I watched my youngest sister, Marcela, practically raise my niece, Isobel, on her own. For that reason, I knew better than to believe it was as cut and dry as Brynn was trying to make it seem. Besides, it wasn't in me to turn my back on my responsibilities. I wasn't that type of guy. I'd be lying if I didn't say this was difficult to wrap my head around, though.
The waitress came to take our order and Brynn told her we needed a moment, although, I was sure she had no intention to order a meal any more than I did. The woman walked away and left us alone again.
All the air rushed from my lungs when I breathed deep. "I'm gonna need some time to think. Just … about everything," was the only thing I could bring myself to say at the moment.
"Take all the time you need," Brynn replied, sealing the response with another half-hearted smile, one that faded when she turned to gaze out the window beside us.
The overall vibe I sensed coming from her was that, with or without me, she was determined to do this. However, I was almost certain that, given the choice, no woman ever really wanted to endure something like this alone. Who would?
There was still the likely possibility of this kid not even being mine, but I could no longer deny that Brynn and I had been together. Because of that, I didn't really know how to feel at this point or what to think. Just yesterday, my world was all black and white, no gray anywhere in sight. But if this kid turned out to be mine, if I ended up being the father...
… that would change everything.
Chapter Three
Brynn
"Mona, you can-NOT say anything to Cedric," I insisted. My brother would hear my news when I was good and ready for him to know.
An exasperated, "Wheww, girl," was my best friend's, and sister-in-law's, only response after I divulged the details of my predicament. With her on the other end of the phone, instead of being here in person, I had to imagine the expression that went along with the sound she made. If I had to guess, her light-brown face was now tinted with a hint of red as she frowned like she always does when she disapproved of something.
She knew all my dirt, but this was different. This was bigger than all my other petty secrets combined and soon there'd be no hiding it. Now that Marco and I had talked, I figured I may as well tell those closest to me what was going on, too. There wasn't much of a point in keeping this to myself.
I started my confessions on the easy end of the spectrum with Mona, all the way in Atlanta where she and my brother recently relocated. Then, I would end the evening with one of the hardest conversations of them all-the one I'd have to have with Naseem.
I plopped down on the couch in my robe and gripped the warm mug of tea in my fingers. I made it to calm my nerves when he called to say he was on his way, but it wasn't helping a whole lot. Naseem was one of the most even-tempered, mellow people I knew; however, what I had to say tonight would, beyond the shadow of a doubt, hurt him.
Deeply.
From the outside looking in, sharing this with him would probably seem easy to most people because, technically, we'd only gone on the one date. There wasn't a firm commitment between us. However, the situation was further complicated by the fact that we'd been friends for so long-since college. While friendship mostly defined what we were to one another, there was another side to us. Acknowledging this fact about a month ago was what led to us finally deciding to give dating a try. So, the next weekend, squeezing our plans in before his trip home to visit his parents in Jordan, we went for it; we had dinner and went to see a movie. It was our first outing with the mutual awareness that we might just be more than friends.
And then this happened.
If only I'd known then what I know now; I never would've dragged him into this.
If I'd found out I was expecting just a few weeks sooner …
Mona took a breath on the other end of the line and I was all ears, knowing she was about to either scold me or ask a ton of questions.
"So, you don't remember anything? Like … nothing? None of the juicy details?" she prodded.
I sipped my tea before answering. "Nope. Not a thing. Only a little of our conversation before more drinks were brought to us … and before we … you know … headed to the men's room," I added, mumbling the last part.
Ugh … I would forever be the woman whose child was conceived in the bathroom of a seedy bar. I cringed at the thought of it.
"Damn, now you got me wishing I had stayed sober. How did I not notice you were missing?"
I breathed into the phone. "Beats me, but I'm beginning to think you need to brush up on your friendship skills." My statement made her bust out laughing. "I'm officially deeming this your fault. If you'd been keeping an eye on me, none of this-"
"No. Nope. Don't even try it, Brynn," she cut in, making me smile. "Your lady bits, and who you decide to let sample the goods, is none of my business. My friendship skills are not what's being called into question here," she asserted. "Your sanity is."
I almost spit my tea out. "I can't stand you. Here I am, baring my soul, telling you all my business, and-"
"And I'm keeping it real like you knew I would," she answered.
I propped my feet up on the coffee table and replayed the reunion with Marco in my head while Mona sat quietly. I pictured him again, sitting across from me in the booth, wearing a tee that fit just tight enough to show the hard lines of his physique through the material. His hair was cut low, buzzed with just enough left behind to cover his scalp. It was dark, thick, and kind of reminded me of velvet. I'd actually bet that was exactly what it felt like.
I'd gotten the chance to study his tattoos without him noticing that I stared. One encircled his left wrist just above an expensive watch-a saying scribed in Spanish. There were several others surrounding a more prominent one on his forearm-an artistic rendition of the Puerto Rican flag. It was designed to appear as if the flesh of his arm was being torn away, revealing the flag underneath. Normally, something that graphic, something so violent, probably wouldn't have appealed to me, but on him … on him I didn't mind it. It was art.
My hand, warm from my mug, touched the front of my neck as I continued to visualize him. The veins and striated muscle made the image on his forearm stand out even more, unobstructed by the presence of sparse, dark hair.
And his scent … That was one thing I hadn't forgotten about him. It was like masculinity in its purest, most potent form.
Undiluted.
Enticing.
"So, what's your plan?" Mona asked, jarring me from my thoughts. "Are you gonna track this guy down?
Biting my nail, I debated whether or not to tell her I'd done that already. Hell, I probably would've dragged her along with me if she hadn't moved out of state, but maybe going alone was best. Maybe this was one of those things I needed to handle on my own.
"Actually," I started, "we met up to talk early last Saturday. A week ago."
She was quiet, which meant she was likely stunned that I hadn't said anything before now. "Ummm, okay. So, how'd that go?"
I shrugged. "Fine, I guess. Could've been worse."
Definitely could've been better.
"Well, what'd he say? You're being really tight-lipped right now and, mmm mmm, I don't like it."
I smiled and relaxed deeper into the cushion. The conversation was still fresh in my head, including the lie I told about it being fine with me, whatever he decided. Of course I didn't want to deal with this alone, but I also knew neither of us planned it. Although he didn't come out and say he didn't want any parts of this, I still got the impression that he really didn't give a damn. So, because of what my gut was telling me, I was prepared to figure out how to do this alone; how to be mommy and daddy.
In no way was I suggesting that Marco and I try to be together or anything like that; I was simply giving this guy a chance to co-parent, a chance to know his kid. If he didn't want that on his own, there was nothing I could do or say to make him want that.
I'd survive either way.
"He just said he needed time to process everything," I replied, summarizing the conclusion Marco and I reached.
Mona was quiet and I could practically hear the wheels turning as she thought. "Are you … are you sure you wanna do this, B? I mean, there are other options."
Options. I knew what she meant.
I was already shaking my head before she finished her sentence. "Mona, you know my story. I won't even consider it," I answered, stopping myself from reciting my list of reasons out loud. She already knew them; already knew how I felt about terminating. I'd never judge a woman for making that decision for herself, but that's just it; it's a personal decision. For me, it simply wasn't on the table as a possibility.