"These people look nice." Easton held his phone out Saturday afternoon so I could look at the couple he'd been reading about.

Easton, Lexi, and I were all hanging out at my house, browsing different adoption websites in search of the perfect family for my baby.

I took his phone from him to check out the couple. On the screen was a photo of a nice-looking man and woman. They held each other in a sweet embrace as they smiled up at me.

"They do look nice," I said. I scrolled past the photo to read a little more about them. They were in their early thirties and had been married for seven years. They were hoping to adopt a baby boy since they already had a two-year-old girl who they'd adopted from South Korea two years ago.

I continued reading until another photo popped onto the screen. This one was of them with their daughter who looked like she was laughing.

"Their little girl looks happy, I guess." I rubbed my stomach hoping to feel some sort of inspiration from the baby. I didn't necessarily believe in fortune tellers, or voodoo magic, but if the baby kicked like crazy when I was looking at a particular couple, I would take it as some sort of sign.

I had no idea what I was doing here and could use all the inspiration I could get to help me find the right couple.

But so far, the baby just seemed to be sleeping through the whole thing because nothing had happened yet, even though we'd gone through thirty profiles.

Easton's deep voice interrupted my reading. "They live in Pennsylvania, which isn't too far to visit every so often if you do an open adoption."

I nodded, overwhelmed at everything I needed to consider.

Did I really want an open adoption?

As if sensing how overwhelmed I was, Easton took his phone from my hand. "How about I text you the link, so you can just add it to your list? You don't need to decide right now."

I sighed. "Thanks."

A second later my phone buzzed with the text from him.

"Do you guys think I should do an open adoption?" I looked to Lexi and Easton for reassurance.

"It's really up to you," Lexi said. "I think Maddie said they were a good thing. Right, Easton?" .

He nodded. "There are pros and cons to it just like everything in life."

"Pros and cons?" The way he said it made it sound like he thought there were more cons than pros.

"One of the biggest pros is that you get to choose the parents yourself, which is why we're looking at profiles, right?" he asked.

“Yeah,” I said.

"Getting to talk to the parents ahead of time can help you feel more comfortable giving your baby to them. And then after that, you can have contact—however much or little you and the adoptive parents decide on. I think this will show the kid they weren't just dumped somewhere randomly because you didn't care about him."

"Dumped?" Lexi interrupted him. "Not sure that's the best word choice here."

Easton shrugged. "Sorry. Um...I guess what I'm trying to say is that it can help the kid know where they came from and why they were adopted in the first place."

I nodded. "Yeah, I was reading forums online a while back about kids who had no idea where they came from, and they had a really hard time dealing with some abandonment issues."

Easton looked thoughtful. "Either way you go about it is tricky. The whole situation is hard. But there are a lot of positives that come from open adoption, if that's the way you feel you want to go." Wow, he really must have done a lot of research on this when Maddie was pregnant. I knew he had kind of been her support system and gone to a lot of her appointments with her before she dared tell their dad, but I guess I didn't realize just how much he had learned about the process.

"But closed adoption is okay, too," Lexi added. "If you don't feel you can handle all this stuff, or it's too overwhelming for you, you can do that, too. There are loving parents waiting for a baby to love just the same. And maybe you could still write a letter to him or something, explaining why you did what you did."

"You think that's allowed?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it sounds like it should be."

I leaned back on the couch, feeling overwhelmed. Maybe I should just let my mom pick for me.

Easton touched my arm. "Remember, you still have a few months. You don't have to make all these hard decisions this minute. Give yourself some time."

"I just want what's best for him." I rubbed my stomach and stared at the ceiling, suddenly exhausted.

He gave my arm a squeeze before pulling his hand back. "We're here to support you."

I searched his eyes. He was being so sweet about this—both he and Lexi were.

Maybe it would be okay to tell him the truth. He'd probably be better at choosing the couple for me, anyway.

If he wouldn't try to make me keep it, that is.

Lexi glanced at her watch. "Well, I better get going. Noah’s taking me on a date tonight."

"What are you guys doing?" I tried not to feel jealous of the fact that she had a boyfriend to do fun things with. It had been way too long since I'd been on a date.

She picked up her phone from the coffee table and pushed it into her back pocket. "He's taking me to dinner, and then we're going to play laser tag."

"Sounds fun." I forced enthusiasm into my voice. I didn’t need to be jealous of my best friend. She deserved to have a great boyfriend like Noah. I was happy for her.

She bent over to give me a quick hug. "I'll see you later. Let me know what you need me to do for you."

I hugged her back. "Thanks. I will." And then she left.

I turned back to Easton, wondering why he hadn't left with his sister. There was a nervous expression on his face.

Was he nervous about being alone with me in my house again?

It was then I remembered what he had planned to do tonight. He was going to go see his mom.

He rubbed his hands along the sides of his jeans. "I guess I should probably leave. My mom's band is playing at eight, and you never know how the roads will be."

"Yeah, you don't want to risk missing it," I said.

He nodded, but he didn't look up.

"Are you nervous?" I asked.

He chuckled awkwardly. "A little. But I'm sure I'll live." His lip quirked up into a half smile.

"Would it help if I came?" The words were out before I thought them through. He wouldn't want me to go. We were friends now, sure, but not really the please-come-with-me-because-I'm-going-to-find-my-mom-who-I-haven't-seen-in-a-decade type of friends.

But his shoulders seemed to relax at my offer. "You wouldn't mind?" His tone was so hopeful I couldn't take it back.

I pressed my lips together. I didn't really have anything better to do. "Sure, why not? What are friends for?"

And that seemed to settle it.

I was going to meet my baby's grandma tonight.

Easton went home to change his clothes before we left, wanting to look his best when he saw his mom.

I changed out of my sweatpants, deciding on a fitted navy-blue dress and heeled boots. There was no hope for hiding my belly anymore, so I might as well make it look as cute as it could be.

Plus, if I talked to Easton's mom, I wanted to make a good first impression—well, as good a first impression a pregnant teen could make.

I left a note for my mom, telling her where I would be and that I'd be home by midnight.

Soon we were on our way, driving to Ithaca mostly in silence. I could tell he was nervous about meeting his mom, so instead of trying to make conversation I knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on, I watched him as we drove. It was dark outside, so only the lights from the dash or the oncoming traffic lit his face, but I couldn't help but admire him. He was so good looking, and I was still super attracted to him.

He had a nice nose—not too big, not too small. His jaw, while not as pronounced and squared as Noah's, was strong and slender. And I wished I could run my fingers along it one more time to remember how it felt.

His shoulders were broad, and his arms toned from years of chopping wood in his backyard.

"How are you feeling now?" I asked as we entered the city limits. The GPS on his phone said we'd arrive at the concert venue in eleven minutes.

"Honestly?" He glanced over briefly. "I feel like I'm about to throw up."

"Sorry about that."

He shrugged. "Hopefully, I won't chicken out. This is kind of a once-in-a-lifetime chance, I think."

I nodded. "Do you know what kind of band she's in? Is it a rock band, jazz, or a blues band?"

"I think it's more like a folk band. The pictures I saw online made them look like hippies."

I raised my eyebrows. "I cannot picture your dad being married to someone like that." His dad, a former drill sergeant, was all about structure and following the rules.

Easton merely nodded, his hands gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Which is probably why they're not together now. I think my dad was way too strict and she was too free-spirited for them to get along very well."

"Makes sense."

We drove through the town a little way until we came to a parking lot behind an older brick building. The sign outside was lit up with the words: "The Cornell Brew."

I had expected a much larger place, but maybe his mom was just getting started in this musician thing. I guessed everyone had to start from somewhere.

We climbed out of the car and headed into the coffee shop. A tenor voice and a banjo greeted my ears as soon as we stepped inside the crowded venue. College-aged students with large mugs sat on couches and on just about every available seat they could find. And on the small stage was a college-aged guy with black-rimmed glasses, a white button-down shirt, and a banjo.

Easton turned to me. "Do you want something to eat?" The anxiety in his eyes was obvious. He was so nervous. I wanted to wrap him in a hug and tell him everything would be okay.

But since I didn't know whether he'd accept a hug or not, I simply nodded and said, "Food would be great."

I ordered an Italian club sandwich at the counter, along with a bottle of water, and was just pulling out my wallet to pay when Easton handed the cashier a ten-dollar bill.

"You don't have to buy it for me. I can get it myself," I told him.

He shook his head. "You're helping me out. It's the least I can do."

My chest warmed at his generosity. "Thank you."

"No problem."

It was then I realized he hadn't ordered anything. "Are you not hungry?"

He shook his head. "I can't really eat right now."

I couldn't eat when I was nervous, either.

We grabbed a tall, round table in the back corner. Easton wrung his hands as he looked anxiously around the room. His mom's group wasn't set to go on until eight, so we still had about five minutes.

"This sandwich is delicious," I commented, hoping to distract him for a moment. "You want some?"

I knew he was nervous, but I didn't want him to pass out from low blood sugar before his mom even came out. He had a fast metabolism and got lightheaded when he exercised without eating. This situation was probably similar to that.

"I'll get something to eat after."

The banjo guy finished his final song, and then a middle-aged woman went to the stage.

"Is that her?" I whispered to Easton.

He squinted his eyes for a moment, like he hadn't seen her yet. But when he realized I was talking about the woman on the stage, he said, "No, that's not her. My mom has bright red hair now—at least the pictures online made it look red."

The woman on the stage thanked everyone for coming and had us give the banjo guy one last round of applause.

When the clapping died down, she leaned closer to the microphone again. "We're excited to have September Road, a folk band out of Rochester here to sing for us tonight. Let's welcome them to Ithaca."

The crowd clapped politely, and soon, a lady with bright red hair appeared on the stage with two other guys wearing black hats. His mom looked younger than I’d expected, but still about ten years older than her bandmates.

"Thank you all for having us," Easton's mom spoke into the microphone, her voice surprisingly low, and she looked just like Lexi without the glasses. "We're excited to play for you tonight."

I watched Easton for his reaction to seeing and hearing his mom for the first time in over a decade and noticed his face had gone white. I reached over and placed a hand on his knee in what I hoped was a comforting gesture.

He looked at me and gave me a small smile before covering my hand with his own and squeezing it.

Their set lasted for half an hour. Easton gripped my hand tightly the entire time, not relaxing for a second. It was hard to watch him as he watched his mom, a mixture of hope and fear in his eyes.

This better not turn out to be a bad idea.

There was a thirty-minute break between their set and the next group. Once they finished, they put their instruments away and went to mingle with the crowd.

"I guess it's now or never." Easton sighed heavily when people started moving around and chatting with each other.

"Do you want me to come with you?" I asked, since he still had a firm grip on my hand.

He seemed to think it over for a moment before shaking his head. "This is something I should do on my own."

"I'll be here if you need me."

He finally let go of my hand and stood.

I flexed my fingers to get the blood flowing back through my veins properly as I watched him weave his way toward the stage. His mom was in the center of the crowd, talking animatedly with the people around her. A line had formed to greet her and her band, and Easton joined the end of the line.

He glanced back at me as if looking for reassurance, so I waved.

I hoped, for his sake, that she’d somehow recognize him after all these years. It would be hard if your own mother didn't know who you were—though he did look a lot different than he had in elementary when she left his family.

I took a sip of my water as I waited for him to near the front of the line. I must've taken just one sip too many because I suddenly had to go pee.

I sat in my seat and crossed my legs, hoping that I could put off going to the bathroom for a little longer. Easton needed me. I couldn't be in the bathroom when he spoke to his mom.

There were still two people ahead of Easton when the baby sat on my bladder just right, making me feel like I was going to explode.

Mean baby.

I rushed to the bathroom, hoping I'd make it back in time to see how his conversation went. But there was an endless line in front of the women's bathroom, and of course, no line for the men's.

I tapped my hand on my thigh and shifted my weight from side to side as I waited. Why had I drunk so much water?

When I finally made it out of the bathroom, I scanned the room for Easton. But he was nowhere to be seen and his mom was already talking with another group of college-aged kids.

I walked around and searched the crowd, but I couldn't pick out his light brown hair. After making a few circles around the room, I grabbed my coat from my chair and gave him a call.

His phone rang and rang before eventually going to his voicemail. But that made sense because the room was loud, and he probably couldn't hear the ringer, anyway.

After another few times around the room without seeing him, I decided to check outside.

A cold breeze whipped at my cheeks as I opened the door, the bell ringing above my head. I walked down the sidewalk and turned the corner to head toward the parking lot. It was then that I saw him sitting on a bench behind the building.

"Easton," I called to him as I approached.

He looked up at me before wiping his arm across his eyes.

Oh, no. Something was wrong.