My breath lodged in my throat. “I . . . I don’t know.”

There was another pause. “You have options.”

I closed my eyes. The milk had started to curdle in my stomach. “I know.”

“Do you know how far along you are?” she asked. “It can’t be that long.”

“Based on the one test and timing, I’m at about five weeks.” I opened my eyes and drew in a shallow breath.

Some of the color had returned to her face. “Okay.” Her tone told me she was moving into Mom-can-take-care-of-this mode. “About this guy. Does he know?”

I shook my head. “I just found out this past Sunday and I needed to wrap my head around it first.”

“Understandable.” Her hand returned to smoothing the dog’s back. “Do you plan on telling him?”

My mouth opened, but I didn’t have an answer.

She pressed her lips together and then nodded slowly. “If you choose to not go through with this, that is ultimately your choice. No one else’s. I believe that, but I also believe you need to tell the father. Sorry, hon. That’s just the way I feel.”

The father . . .

God, hearing words like that was like getting shocked by a live wire.

But I knew in my heart of hearts that I personally wouldn’t feel okay with not telling Nick. Not giving him the chance to at least know what was going on, to weigh in with his opinion. In the end, what he felt might or might not sway my decision. I didn’t know, but I didn’t believe that everyone else needed to feel the same way I did. To each their own. It was not my business or my place to say, except when it came to me.

And I knew I had to tell him.

“We need more cake for this conversation.” Mom woke the sleeping dog and placed it on the floor, where Loki scampered off to the water bowl. She went to the counter and returned with two huge slices, one for me and one for her.

“Thank you,” I whispered, my throat scratchy.

“Honey.” She reached over, cupping my cheek. “This isn’t the end of the world. Yes, this is a big deal. It’s a huge one—one that no matter what you decide is going to stay with you for a very, very long time.”

A knot formed in my throat, cutting off my words.

“No matter what you choose, no matter what option you’re going to go with, I will love and support you either way,” she stated, and the tears filled my eyes then. “You decide you’re not ready for this, I’ll be right there with you if you want me to be. And if you decide you want to go through with this and have that baby, I’m going to be a proud grandmother—a damn good-looking grandmother, too.”

I laughed shakily as a tear snuck free and coursed down my cheek.

Mom caught that tear with her thumb. “No matter what, I love you and I will always be proud of you.”

Chapter 13

I made it back to Plymouth Meeting by noon on Sunday, and while I was still freaking out every couple of minutes, I had a better grasp on things. Going home to my mother was the smartest thing I could’ve done.

Hearing her and being around her, spending Saturday curled up on the couch watching movies and pigging out, had helped ground me. We had talked about it, that evening over sundaes, going over the . . . the choices I had and their ramifications. There was no doubt in my mind that she had meant what she said. No matter what I decided or what happened, she would support me.

Though when I left a few hours ago, I could tell she had visions of onesies dancing in her head as she stood at the door, holding Loki in her arms.

My apartment was chilly when I stepped inside. Taking my bag to my bed, I dropped it off and then turned around, heading for the thermostat in the hallway. I cranked it up and then ate the cold-cut sub I’d picked up on the way back.

When it was close to one, I picked up my phone and brought it to the couch with me. I figured Nick had worked last night and I hoped that I wasn’t about to wake him up with my text. Of course, I could call him, but that would seem odd since neither of us had ever called one another before, and I could imagine him pushing until I told him what was up over the phone.

Hey, you around?

I winced after I sent the text, because how lame was Hey when I was about to deliver news he could not have ever expected. A handful of moments passed before I got a response.

I thought you didn’t like me anymore.

He had to be talking about the fact I’d ignored his last text. I was about to respond but he beat me to it.

I’ve been living in this dark, dark place.

My brows rose.

Another text came through. Not eating. Not sleeping.

“What the . . . ?” I whispered.

So, so sad. I shaved my head bald.

There was a pause. I’m totally just kidding.

A startled laugh erupted.

And all of that was probably creepy, huh? Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?

Despite everything, I smiled as I shook my head. He was . . . Nick was a handful. I finally sent him back a text. Is there any way I can see you today? I paused and then added, It’s important.

Several moments passed before I got a response. Sure. I can be there around three?

I’d texted back letting him know that was okay, and the next two hours were filled with antsy pacing. When he knocked on my door, a few minutes past three, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I hurried to the door, opening it.

Seeing Nick after almost two weeks had passed was like laying eyes on him the first time. Dark hair brushed his forehead, the ends curling slightly. His hair was growing, I realized. Those light green eyes were warm and curious as they drifted over my face, and his smile was lopsided. The white thermal he wore stretched over his broad shoulders, and as my gaze dipped, I could see that his hard chest was outlined. He had to have one hell of a workout plan, but I wasn’t sure how he stayed in shape.

I was pregnant with . . . his kid, and I hardly knew anything about him.

God, that was like dunking your face in ice water.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside. “Sorry I’m late. There was an accident. Took a while to get around it.”

“It’s okay.” I closed the door, ignoring my pounding heart. “Would you like something to drink?”

His curious gaze stayed with me. “Sure. What do you have?”

“Um. Soda. OJ.” I started for the fridge, wishing I had something harder for him to drink. “I have sweet tea.”

“That’ll work.”

Busying myself with getting him a glass, I tried to act normal. “Did you work last night?”

“Yeah.” Without looking at him, I knew he was just outside the kitchen, watching me. “I got off at one. Right now, I’m only working Thursday through Saturday.”

“Is that enough hours?” I faced him, and sort of wished I hadn’t asked that. Then again, it was sort of necessary. “I mean, Roxy works four days there, doesn’t she? Ten hour shifts.”

“She does.” He took the drink, eyeing me. “I only need to work those days right now.”

What did that mean? I knew Roxy made decent money bartending, but she also did graphic design and that kind of stuff on the side. How much money was Nick bringing in if he only needed to work three days? Or maybe he didn’t need to work a lot because he could still live at home with his parents, for all I knew.