I felt a sudden twinge of nausea when I rose from the table and I looked accusingly around the coffee shop. I had been smelling the breakfast of the person sitting at another table a few rows away, and I couldn’t believe they were having scrambled eggs at this time in the morning. Of course, the fact that it bothered me so much did strike me as somewhat odd—it wasn’t like me to be so offended by what someone chose to have for their meal, but today, it was overwhelming.

They took another bite of their eggs, and I thought I was going to be sick, so I rushed to the bathroom. I hated vomiting, but with how unsettled my stomach had been the past few mornings, I didn’t think I would be able to help it.

After flushing the toilet, I took a minute to sit down and gather my thoughts. I had never been one to really think much about my cycle. Of course, I took the pill—though I had to admit I wasn’t as on top of it as I should have been. I quickly ran through my mental calendar, trying to remember the last time my period had come.

Suddenly, it struck me—I was more than two weeks late. I had been so wrapped up with what had happened with Antonio, followed by getting back into the groove of my job that I had lost track, and I had a sickening feeling in my stomach because of it.

Grabbing my things, I hurried out of the coffee shop, heading for the nearest store. The longer I thought about it, the more convinced I was there was something amiss. And I was right.

I looked down at the double bars on the stick and sighed before letting my hand fall to my leg. My mother had always told me to test a couple of times to make sure that I was getting the right result, but I didn’t need to. I could test ten more times or even a hundred more times. It didn’t matter how often I tested, the facts were the facts. I was pregnant, and Antonio was the father.

I swore under my breath as I looked around the bathroom stall. Of course I wasn’t going to find the answer written on the walls, but there was little to offer me any real comfort. I couldn’t have a child. Not right now. I had a career, a life that I was living. If I was going to have a child, I was going to have to say goodbye to my job first and foremost. There would simply be no way I could work around daycare and childcare if I were to continue to do this.

I’d have to say goodbye to my house. Though I had thought it a good rule that there were no children in the building when I moved in, now that I was faced with this, I was going to have to find somewhere else to live—somewhere that was a lot more kid-friendly than my current situation.

I was going to have to say goodbye to my selfish schedule and doing what I wanted when I wanted with whom I wanted. I was going to have to say goodbye to the life I was used to living, and say hello to a new life I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

This would be a lot different if I had a husband, or even a boyfriend for that matter! What on earth was I thinking? Now I’m going to have to tell him. I’m going to have to tell him! I can’t do this on my own, and I don’t care what he wants to do about it.

The thoughts were running through my mind at an alarming pace, and I could barely keep up with them. I was doing my best to string things together logically, but it seemed the more I chased down one thought, the less it would make sense and the more other thoughts would tear through my mind at a terrifying speed.

I took a deep breath in and let it out again slowly. If I was going to make sense of this, I was going to have to think about it rationally, which meant I was going to have to forget my plans in life and think about how I was going to take care of a child. Sure, I knew Antonio would very likely have little interest in being a part of the child’s life, or even knowing if the child was a boy or girl for that matter, but I wasn’t going to be the only one financially responsible for this baby.

He was right there with me that night, and he had the money. I told myself that he would be happy to pay for at least some of the expenses that went with having a child, if he only knew that he was going to be a father. I rolled up the test in a section of toilet paper and slipped it into my purse. Stepping out of the bathroom stall, I glanced around at the other women who were checking their makeup in the mirrors and washing their hands.

I did my best to appear casual and nonchalant as I also washed my hands, but it was difficult. I had so many thoughts running through my mind, and all I really wanted was the assurance that it was going to be okay. Facing the future now seemed ominous and overbearing. If I was going to make it, I would have to have some sort of support and that was going to have to come from the man who was partly responsible for this situation.

I had to get a hold of Antonio.

I feverishly looked through my phone’s contacts for his number. I had nearly deleted it so many times, but a small part of me clung onto the last remaining connection I had to him, and I was relieved that I still had a means of getting in touch with him.

I selected his number and pressed the phone to my ear, breathing a sigh of relief as the phone began to ring. I could feel my heart beating in my chest as I listened, and I carefully formulated in my mind what I was going to say. I didn’t want to sound too upset, for fear he was going to think it was some sort of trick.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to sound nonchalant about the situation, either. This was a big deal, and no matter how much he was going to be involved with the child, I would be facing an entirely new life now.

When the call suddenly disconnected, I looked at it in surprise. Breathing a sigh of frustration, I dialed again, only to have the same thing happen once more. I swore as I threw my phone across the room, not caring that it hit the wall and fell to the floor with a thud. I buried my face in my hands and took a deep breath in before letting it out again slowly.

His number was disconnected. Try as I might, I wasn’t going to be able to give him the news over the phone. I was going to have to do it through another way—I was going to have to go back to San Peluzzi.

I slid into a chair and thought about the prospect. I had the money, and I certainly could take the time off work if I was so inclined. But there was a catch. It was going to cost a lot, and it was going to require that I put my life on hold once more in order to make it happen. It wasn’t something that I could do on a whim, it was going to be something I would have to commit to.

I looked down at my belly and sighed. The changes that were going to happen were going to happen whether I wanted them to or not, and now I was left dealing with the consequences. If I was going to get the help that I knew I was going to need with this child, I was going to have to go to the one person who could help me, and that was Antonio.

The familiar feelings of anger and not wishing to see him again rose up in my chest, but I was quick to dismiss them. There was something more important on the table now—something I couldn’t ignore.

Like it or not, Antonio and I were going to have one thing in common forever.

We were going to be parents.