That was the million-dollar question.
"For a lot of reasons," I answered. "A lot of reasons that don't matter anymore."
He stared down at the test in his hand. "They matter to me."
Okay, I could do this. "I was scared."
"Of what?" he asked, not able to take his eyes from those two pink lines.
"Everything," I answered, because it was true.
"Of me?" His voice and the expression on his face broke me. I'd hurt him. The one thing I never wanted to do but could never seem to escape from doing. It was my damn Achilles' heel: hurting Jude.
"Yes." I swallowed back the lump forming in my throat.
He flinched. "Afraid that I was going to turn out to be some piece-of-shit father like mine was?"
This time I flinched. That thought had never once entered my mind. I'd had a lot of anxious thoughts, enough worries to fill a person's entire lifetime, but that had not been one of them.
"No, Jude," I said, wanting to sit up and go to him, but I wasn't sure my legs would work at this point in the conversation. "That never crossed my mind."
"Then why were you hiding the fact you were pregnant from me for two weeks? Two goddamned weeks!"
He looked lost. And the kind of lost where he wasn't hoping to be found.
"Because of this," I said, motioning at him, feeling my temper boiling to the surface. "Because I was scared of what your reaction would be."
He cracked his neck and looked away from me. "Yeah, well, you were right to be."
"Obviously," I replied, wondering if I could rewind to two minutes ago and tell Jude myself that I was pregnant before he found the test stick.
"Is it mine?"
Now it was my turn for a blow of his to take a while to settle in. Sure I'd heard him wrong, I said, "What?"
"Is. It. Mine?"
Nope, I hadn't heard him wrong.
"Jude," Holly hissed from the kitchen, marching toward him like she was going to punch him in the stomach.
"What?" he said, his eyes crazy. "If she hides the fact that she's pregnant, who's to know what else she's hiding from me?"
Those words, that insinuation, cut me like nothing had before. Jude implying I could have been, or had been, unfaithful to him . . . this was the kind of cut that would never heal.
"Get out," I whispered, staring into my lap. "Just get the hell out."
When he didn't move, I shot up from my seat and pointed at the door while I glared at him with fire shooting from my eyes. "Get the hell out!"
I saw his eyes flash before he turned away, but I couldn't tell if it'd been a flash of anger or hurt. But I was too hurt myself to find out.
Jude stormed down the hall and slammed the door so damn hard, I thought it was going to fall from its hinges.
Before I collapsed back onto the couch, I heard a string of curses, then what sounded like a fist going through a sheet of drywall.
TWENTY
School, dance, marriage, career . . . Jude. My entire life felt like it was hanging in the balance. There wasn't one thing I was certain about anymore. Well, save for one: I was certain I still loved Jude. I wanted to be with him, marry him, live and die with him. When life throws you a curveball like it had thrown me, you realize exactly what is important and what isn't.
Jude, and now our baby, were at the top of that list.
After Jude had stormed out last Saturday, I hadn't seen or heard from him since. Four and a half days I'd gone without knowing what he was thinking or where his head was or if we were going to make up, or if he even still wanted to marry me. If I hadn't developed an ulcer yet, I was close.
When I'd shouted at Anton, "I quit!" last Saturday, I'd meant it. He'd sent a bouquet of flowers and a note to apologize, but I was one forced-upon kiss past forgiving and forgetting right now. One day, maybe, but not a few days later. Anton had crossed a line and proved that he couldn't take no for an answer. It was obvious we couldn't just be friends, so I made an executive decision and cut off all contact. Even Indie had my back. When she found out he'd kissed me, she went ballistic.
After I skipped class again, Holly and Thomas basically dragged me to the studio Tuesday morning. That didn't last long, though, because as soon as I slipped into my dance leotard I could see the slightest of bumps stretching the fabric above my belly. This brought me close to a meltdown. It wasn't just the baby bump; it was everything that had piled up in the days before.
A box of tissues later, Thomas walked me over to my academic adviser and informed her of my "fragile" condition while I went through another box of tissues. By the end of the day, we'd been able to work out a modified schedule that would allow me to continue the semester without having to adhere to a rigorous dance course load. I'd never checked before, because I didn't want to do anything but dance, but it turned out there were quite a few theory courses I could take that would count toward my degree.