My bags are packed and I have one errand left. After that I can’t wait to spend one last night with Cara. The drive across town takes about thirty minutes, but Vincent promised me this was the best jeweler for what I need in the quickest turnaround time. As I pull in and park, there aren’t any other cars. I walk into the small, standalone building in the center of the strip mall parking lot. I don’t see anyone working and start to look through the cases.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

I look up to see a short, elderly man who has a thick pair of glasses on. “It’s okay, I was just looking around.”

“What brings you in?” he asks.

“I was hoping you have infinity bracelets”

“Oh yes, I do. They’re on this side.” He walks to the other counter and I follow him across the store. Vince was right -- tucked in the case is a huge selection. I’d heard about these and never knew exactly what they were ‘til I talked to Alexa. I scan over the selection of bracelets with the well-known figure eight design, searching for the one and then I spot it.

It’s gold, like Cara loves, with a double infinity symbol, both of which are diamond encrusted. It leads into a thick gold band -- exactly what I want. “Can I see that one?”

“This is by far one of my favorites,” he says as he hands it to me. Holding it in the palm of my hand, the metal is heavier than I expected. Looking it over, it’s perfect.

“I’ll take it. I heard you also do engraving?”

“Absolutely.”

“Can you do it for me now? I can pay extra for the rush.”

He looks at the clock, and then hands me a pad of paper and a pen. “I would be happy to. Just jot down what you had in mind and I’ll do it while you wait. Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Great, thank you so much.”

While I write what I want the engraving to say, he says, “I take it this is for someone special, considering you haven’t asked me the price.”

I hand him the note and say, “Yeah, she is special. When it comes to her, money doesn’t matter. She has changed my perspective on life, so little things like this are the least I can do.”

“That doesn’t happen often these days. I’ll have it right out for you.”

“Thank you. Do you think all of the words will fit?” I ask.

He looks over the note. “Yes, sir, I believe they will. Let me key it in the computer to be sure.”

While I wait and check my phone, I have a text from Alexa. Everything good there?

Yup, I found the perfect one. Cara’s going to love it.

The words fit and the bracelet looks amazing. I can’t wait to give her something real as a symbol of my love. Today I’ll finally be able to speak the words I’ve been scared of saying for far too long. The drive across town is quick and I’m anxious as I pull into her driveway. Before I head inside, I take a deep breath and clutch the box containing her bracelet in the palm of my hand. I know I can do this and she is going to say the words in return. I just know it. But Cara is nowhere to be seen. “Baby?” I yell.

“I’m up here.”

Excitedly I jog up the stairs. She’s not in her room so I go into the bathroom. She is sitting on the corner of the tub. Her head’s hung low and she doesn’t make eye contact with me.

“Hey, are you feeling sick again?”

She shrugs her shoulders and I notice the box sitting next to her.

Please don’t let that be what I think it is.

“You’ve got to talk to me, Cara. What’s going on?”

She hands me the test that she’s holding and looks at me with guilt-filled eyes. Her cheeks are flushed and tear-stained. I take it from her and clearly printed across the digital screen reads pregnant. The box I’m holding slips from my grip and wallops on the tile floor. Looking down at it, I’m frozen. My body goes numb and it feels like all of the blood is rushing out of me. Suddenly it looks miles away, as my vision narrows and my heart starts pounding in my ears. My eyes move back to the test in my hand and I can see out of the corner of my eye that she is staring at me.

Fuck, NO! This is not possible. Why is this happening to me again?

“Say something,” she begs.

I just shake my head, trying to calm the adrenaline spiking through every nerve ending. Finally I blurt out, “How did this happen?”

“I don’t know. We’ve never used protection.”

“But you told me you were on the pill.”

“I am on the pill, but it’s not 100% effective.”

“Damn it, Cara, you knew I didn’t want kids.” There is anger in my tone but I can’t help it. One of my worst fears is coming true. Again.

Tears stream down her cheeks like waves of the ocean and she places her face in her hands. “I know,” she whispers.

I can’t control the anger inside of me as I chuck the test at the mirror. It bounces off the glass and pings across the room. Cara flinches but doesn’t look up at me, and I turn and walk away. As much as I love Cara it scares me how good it feels to get away from her.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I slam the front door and get in my truck not thinking twice as I start it and drive away. I’m not sure where I’m heading, but I need to be alone.

Why didn’t I see this coming sooner or catch the warning signs? Maybe if I wasn’t so blindsided I could handle things better. Even when my dad mentioned it I didn’t think for a second that it could be true. I decide to go home and stop at the liquor store on the way. I grab one thing -- a bottle of Patrón. I know that I’m going to need this to get through the night, then hopefully work can consume me for a while as I figure out what to do.

I pull into the garage like a maniac and storm inside, on a mission to get into my loft and drinking to calm my nerves. As I ride the elevator up, I crack open the bottle and take a swig. When I open my front door and walk in, I can smell her scent. Normally it comforts me, but now it scares me. I’m about to ruin her life and there’s nothing I can do. As control of the situation continues to be stripped away from me, I take another swig hoping to dull the pain.

I avoid looking into my bedroom and the spot where we could have created a life and throw myself on the couch. Taking another long pull, I allow the sting of the alcohol to roll down my throat. Hopefully after a few more shots the pain will subside and I can focus on what to do.

My phone starts to buzz and I look down at it. It’s Cara, her picture displayed on the screen. It is by far my favorite -- she’s topless lying face down in her white bed with her hair covering half of her face and her chin resting on her hand, which is resting on her arm. I can’t talk to her. I decline the call and take another drink.

Sitting there I mind fuck myself and come to the same conclusion every time. I can’t be a dad; it’s not in the cards for me. After God only knows how long and half a bottle of Patrón, the shots catch up to me and I get tired. The alcohol mixed with the stress is a combination that sends me off. Blackness takes over, which is a relief compared to the turmoil that is racing through my mind.

“Is Abel Mileski available?”

“Yeah, this is him.”

“Abel, this is Doctor Larson with St. Luke’s Hospital. Do you know an Abigail Riley?”

“Yeah, she’s my girlfriend.”

“She was just admitted to the ER and your number is the last one called from her cell phone.”

“What happened? Are she and the baby okay?”

“I need you to come down here ASAP.”

“Please just tell me if she’s okay?”

“Sir, please get down here.”

I hop in my car and fly over to the hospital driving as fast as I can. Lord, please let her and the baby be okay. Pulling up to the emergency entrance, I leave my car in the loading zone and run inside.

“I’m here to see Abigail Riley.”

The woman behind the desk scans her screen and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t have an Abigail Riley here.”

“I was just called by Dr. Larson. He said she was here. Call him,” I scream.

“Yes, sir.”

I run my hands through my hair and pace back and forth, saying a prayer. The ER doors open and out comes a middle-aged doctor with longish red hair and freckles. “Abel?” he asks.

“Yes. How is she?”

Concern washes across his face. “Follow me,” he says and we begin to walk. “Cara was brought in earlier with a lot of stomach pain.”

“Cara?” I ask.

“Yes. Your girlfriend, Cara Savannah. You told me that over the phone.”

I swallow hard and shake my head knowing already what is coming next.

“After you told me she was pregnant, I checked. She was indeed pregnant but it was a tubal pregnancy. We rushed her back for surgery, but it was too late. She had lost so much blood and had a heavy amount of internal bleeding. I’m so sorry, but we lost both her and the baby.”

I collapse to my knees, my stomach constricts as waves of nausea take over. My breathing starts to increase as sweat builds on the back of my neck…

I wake up clutching my chest and gasping for air. Fuck, it was just a dream. Thank God. I haven’t had that dream in over a decade. It’s been that long since I lost Abigail and our unborn child. I remember the day she told me she was expecting and how excited we both were. Call it being young and dumb, or whatever you want, but we were both ecstatic. I wish now more than ever I could feel that same way with Cara, but how can I when what I created is putting her life at risk?

I vividly remember leaving Abigail to go to work. She was tired and going to sleep in, maybe skip classes for the day. And then the call came and she was gone. Everything happened so fast and since that day I haven’t been the same person I once was. That is until I met Cara. For years, I’ve done a damn good job at blocking out every memory and detail possible. Since losing her, I’ve unattached myself from women and have used them for one thing and one thing only. But when Cara came into my life with her smart mouth and confidence, she spun my entire world upside down. Damn it, why didn’t I use protection? I could kick myself right now. Since Abigail passed, I’ve always been a Nazi about it. Yet Cara clouded my judgment with the craving she brewed inside of me for her it had grown to be so immense that I had to feel her -- all of her. I never thought about the consequences or questioned what we were doing. I couldn’t have ever imagined anything like this would happen to me. Not again anyways.

I glance at the clock; it’s six in the morning. Reaching for my cell phone, I notice the half-drunk bottle of Patrón on the table. Damn, that’s why I slept through the night. I unlock my cell phone and there are a few missed phone calls -- two from Cara and one from Vincent. I go into the text messages next and my heart breaks as I read Cara’s words.

I really think we need to talk about this. I’m in just as much shock as you are. I understand that you need some space and as much as that kills me, I’ll do my best to give it to you. But PLEASE don’t turn your back on me. We did this together.

Motherfucker, why did this fucking have to happen? Everything between us was great; I felt so complete. Damn it, now we’re both hurting. Unsure of what to do, I check the next text. It’s from Vincent.

What the fuck happened? You need to call me.

I immediately call him, and he answers on the second ring, “Hey, how ya holding up, buddy?”

“Fuck, Vince. Where do I even begin?”

“Well, you can answer my question. How are you?”

“How do you think I am? I’m not good. How much do you know?”

“At first I didn’t know anything. Lex left work saying Cara had called and she could barely understand what she was saying on the phone and was sick. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but Lex called me late last night to say she wasn’t coming home and explained everything.”

“Did you tell anyone else?” I ask in a sharp tone.

“NO! Of course not. It’s not my place to tell. What are you going to do?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.”

“You’re not saying much this morning. What can I do to help?”

“You can take me back to the first time Cara and I slept together and make me pull my head out of my ass. I don’t know why I was being so naïve. You would think I learned my lesson with Abigail.”

“Is that what’s got you so upset?”

“Yeah. That and the fact I’m not father material. Have you forgotten I’m covered in tattoos? How can I make any child proud? Then you add my line of work and that I’m gone for three to four straight days per week. This is all a clusterfuck of a mess.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Not anymore.”

“First of all, knock it off with the booze. Second, kids don’t see tattoos; they see their parent. And you need to look at the positives with your work. You have an awesome, well-paying job, not to mention that you’re home for three to four full days a week as well. Most parents can’t say that.”

“Don’t call me a parent. I told you I don’t know the first thing about this shit.”

“Did you even listen to a word I just said? You did this, whether you like it or not.”

“Yeah, I fucking heard you. And do you remember what happened the last time this occurred? Both Abigail and the baby died. Who’s to say it’s not because of me? Think about it -- there has got to be something wrong with me.”

“I’m trying to talk some sense into you. Do you remember when I was freaking out about asking Lex to marry me and you said, ‘She’s not Angela?’ You need to take a dose of your own advice.”

“Dude, that’s way fucking different. I’m not talking about some bullshit with an ex who cheated on me. I’m talking life and death!” I scream into my phone and hang up.

Damn it!

I thought he would help me, not make this shit worse. I hop up unable to sit here and think any longer. I don’t know what to do, but I have to get my mind busy. I stare at the bottle and as tempting as the Patrón is, I can’t. I have to cover at the other station or Tom will have my head on a silver platter.

Maybe a shower will help. I walk into the bathroom and the sight of Cara’s things hits me and hits me hard. What the fuck have I done? Why was I so idiotic to let this happen? My mind gets away from me, picturing her showering with a huge, round stomach. Water cascades down her precious, pink body that’s filled with life, a life we created.

Being a little bitch, I run my hands over my face and through my hair, pulling on the roots and screaming in anger. I’m losing my fucking mind.

I turn away from the image and my back on Cara because I’m a coward. She and that baby are better off without me. I’m no good for either of them.

I snatch my keys and bolt, heading out of my loft and taking the stairs down all eighteen flights, hoping that running the stairs will occupy my mind long enough to take a sliver of the pain away. I emerge into the lobby and head out the front doors, just as the sun is just beginning to rise.

I jump in my truck and drive, unsure of my destination, focusing on the road ahead of me. The stoplight changes from yellow to red and I gas it, running through the intersection like an asshole. Why do I feel the need to push the limits? I guess I could blame the anger; at this moment all I can see is red rage. Christ, it would feel amazing to hit something right now, whether with my truck or my fist. I don’t have a preference.

I go to the only place that comforts me -- my dad’s. Pulling into the driveway, his house is quiet. I walk up and knock on the door. He opens it and I can barely bring my eyes to meet his. Moving out of the way, he gestures for me to come in. I give him a hug and walk over to the couch, flopping down and throwing my arm over my eyes.

“What’s going on, Son?” he asks.

I shake my head back and forth, unable to speak the words. He slaps my leg and I look up at him as he sits in the chair across from me. “Come on, you came here this early in the morning, so speak.”

I sit up and rest my elbows on my knees. Leaning over, I stare at the carpet and shake my head again. “You were right, she is pregnant.” That’s all I say and I know immediately he gets what I’m going through. He and my mom picked me up ten years ago when I experienced this with Abigail. I know he knows what I’m facing.

“How does that make you feel?” he asks in a calm even tone.

“Like a fucking loser. What, was one girlfriend dying not enough? I’ve avoided relationships for this exact reason, and here I am about to ruin another life.”

“Whoa, Son. I don’t think I would go that far. First of all, you’re not a loser. Maybe this happened for a reason and it’s for the good, not to ruin either of your lives.”

I rub my hands over my face and get off the couch. I can’t sit here any longer. I start to pace thinking about his words. Could this be for the good? I find it hard to believe, not with my past. Plus, if things do work out, I’m no dad. I don’t know the first thing about babies or which end is up when it comes to raising one.

My dad walks past me and into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” he asks.

“Nah. I have to get to work soon.”

“What are you going to do about this? You can’t just avoid it, you know? You’ve done that for ten years.”

“I don’t know. I just need a little time to think.”

“What does Cara have to say about this?”

I shrug my shoulders, ashamed that I left her. A man would’ve stayed around to stick this out. He would have comforted her and told her everything would be okay. But that’s not me. I’m a pussy and run from my problems. It’s what I do. It’s the only way I know how to handle things, which is sad because it’s not even handling them.

“Abel?” my father asks sternly, pulling me out of the irrational thoughts that consume me.

“I left when she told me.”

“Son, you’re not going to like this but I have to say it. You are just as responsible as she is for this whole situation. You cannot turn your back on her or that unborn child. Do you hear me, Abel Wesley?”

I nod my head and hug my father tightly as he embraces me. I look at the clock on the wall. It’s 6:30. I have to get going if I don’t want to be late for work. “Just promise me you’ll do what’s right?”

“I will,” I say and turn away from the comfort of my dad’s hold. I know I have to face this and can’t avoid it forever. But I also have to find an answer within myself before I do so.