Past…
“I’M PREGNANT.” THE NEWS FALLS from my mouth, dripping like hot acid from my tongue.
I’d been sitting on my living room couch, patiently waiting for Thomas to arrive. I knew he was on his way to pick me up. He’d called twenty minutes ago, advising he was going to be late. We were planning on going to dinner tonight, then stopping over at a mutual friend’s for her twentieth birthday party.
Instead, I’ve derailed our plans—for the rest of our lives. I spilled life-changing news, not because I wanted to tell him, but because I didn’t want to be alone with the fear of it any longer.
No matter how hard I try to push the words away, the results the doctor brought in this morning won’t change.
One night.
A single, drunken night spent without protection in the bed of a man I know, but hardly know at all, and I’m pregnant. My unborn baby will start its life with two people still trying to find the path to their own.
“You’re what?” Thomas responds, desperate for clarification.
“I took a home test a few days ago. I went to the doctor today. He confirmed what I knew. Thomas, I’m pregnant.”
His head rears back and panic blankets his every feature. “We were careful, right? I mean, Kat, are you positive?”
Am I positive I’m pregnant? Yes.
Am I positive I want out of this? Yes.
Am I positive the only way our fathers will accept this child as one in their family is for us to marry? Yes.
“I’m positive.”
Rubbing his jaw, Thomas lets loose a quiet, “Fuck.”
Not exactly the response I was hoping for, but then I hadn’t thought of what his initial reaction would be. Mostly because I didn’t care. I’ve already decided I’m keeping the baby, whether he wants to be in its life or not.
“Okay,” he adds, this time with an assuring nod.
Walking from the front door, Thomas watches carefully as he takes a seat on the couch at my side.
Squeezing my thigh, he reassures, “We’ll be okay, Katherine. No matter what happens, I’m here.”
Expelling a fabricated laugh, I question, “Are you saying this for you, for me, or the baby?”
Smiling, Thomas casts a quick glance down at my still flat stomach. “I honestly have no idea.”
“I’m sorry,” I return for lack of anything to say. “I know you weren’t expecting—”
“I wasn’t,” he agrees, rubbing my upper back for comfort.
Thomas’ touch is clinical. The caress comes from a man who doesn’t know what to do with a crying woman. Not the gentle, intimate, caring touch of a man who loves a woman and wants to help shoulder her worry and despair.
“What do you really want?” I ask, searching his blue eyes and hoping they have the answers I haven’t been able to find.
“Does it matter?” he counters, not in anger or agitation, just indifference. “This isn’t about us.”
Thomas is five years older than I am. He’s already graduated from college. After our first official date, where he left me alone and later let me leave with Mason, I never imagined we’d be here.
Four months have passed since Mason left. Since, I’ve been longing for the only man I’ve ever trusted. To see his face, to touch his body, to have his arms around me.
Only a few weeks had passed when Thomas showed at my door, asking me to lunch so he could apologize for letting me ‘slip away.’ Initially, I had refused, not wanting to chance my heart to another. Mason wasn’t here, but I still felt as if I were in some way cheating. Thomas kept his insistence—sending flowers and stopping over. Because I was desperate for distraction, I finally said yes.
Lunches turned to dinners.
Dinners turned to dates.
Dates turned to sex.
Sex turned to this.
All my plans of finishing college have been derailed.
Everything has changed.
And worse, Thomas and I have nothing in common.
Thomas loves history—he thrives on learning the way the world once was. He doesn’t spend money without good reason. And he refuses to pay full price for anything. He enjoys the taste of foreign beer.
I love sports—namely baseball. I love to read about anything but history. If I could, I’d spoil myself in cutoff shorts and flip-flops of all kinds. Give me an evening out in the back of a pickup, with music blaring in the middle of nowhere, and I’m happy.
Thomas and I also don’t run in the same social circles. Other than our fathers’ friendship and business, there’s no real connection between us at all.
Yet, deep down, I know the last man who touched me before Thomas isn’t coming back. The only man I’ve ever loved is forever out of reach. After our night of saying goodbye, neither Mason nor I have fought to see the other again. No plans to visit have ever been made.
The first few weeks after he’d gone, he called. Several times. Sometimes just to hear my voice. There wasn’t a lot to say and being that I was hurt, afraid to tell him how badly I wanted him back, silence took up the space between us.
After a few empty calls, he stopped calling at all.
I still think about him, though. A few times every day, in fact. I’ve thought about where he is, what he’s doing, and if he’s found someone else to care about.
He’s in San Diego.
He’s happy.
He’s moved on.
And I’m alone.
“Marry me,” Thomas suggests simply. “I know what we have isn’t ideal, and maybe you’re not in love with me, but we’re going to be parents.”
“You want to marry me? You want this baby?”
“I do,” he says quickly. “I care about you. And I think eventually we could be happy together.”
Eventually? Could be?
Caught off guard, I return, “But don’t you think this is fast? I mean, you’re just starting your job.”
Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, Thomas brings me into this side. “I am, but we’re already seeing each other. I care about you.”
He cares about me.
“And our families are tight. We’d have their support in this. Not as if our future hadn’t already been mapped out since the day you were born.”
This is hardly the fairy tale I considered as a child.
But…
“Marry me,” he pushes.
With Thomas, I’d have a husband.
“I don’t know,” I return.
With Thomas, I wouldn’t have the baby alone.
“We can do this. I know we can.”
With Thomas, I’d have the security of knowing, no matter what happens, he’ll have our family’s best interest at heart.
“We’ll make a life together. It’s not one we imagined, but still. We can do this.”
With Thomas, though, I’ll never have the man I once dreamed of marrying.
I have to let Mason go for good.
Looking up into Thomas’ hopeful gaze, I nod once, and he smiles as I say, “I’ll marry you.”