"It's not that simple." Her fists balled at her sides.
"Let me tell you something, young lady, you're about to bring a life into this world." Her dad pointed a finger at her. "And while a single mom can raise a child on her own, having a father involved can make everything a lot better. I'm not saying to get yourself involved with anyone dangerous, but this isn't the time to play games. It's the time to buckle down and get serious because having a baby is going to be one of the hardest things you'll ever have to do."
"Dad, I don't know." She bit her bottom lip.
"Well, I do," her dad said. "You know that your mom and I had a lot of trouble with our relationship when you were younger. I couldn't say a thing without her chasing me around with a frying pan."
That was something Emmy remembered well. She could also recall her mom throwing plates and her dad howling at her until his voice went hoarse. The two of them had had one fight after another. Hell, she could swear that she'd spent half of her childhood hiding underneath the table, praying that a flying dish wouldn't whack her on the head.
She nodded. "Your fights were awful."
"After the arguments got too bad, we started marriage counseling," her dad said. "I must admit I was skeptical about the whole psychiatry thing at first, but after a couple of session, I could feel our marriage growing stronger. Then one day the doctor said something to me that stuck—communication is key to every good marriage. And the man was right. Your mom and I had stopped talking about what was bothering us and let our emotions build up. Before I knew it, both of us were so full of anger that all we did was fight all day. We still loved each other deep down, but the anger made us forget that."
"What does this have to do with me?" She wasn't throwing plates at Sebastian.
"It sounds like you haven't talked at all with this guy about what's going on." Her dad studied her. "You say you don't know if he's unfit to be a father. Well, I think you need to discuss it with him and give him a chance to be a proper parent. If you don't, it's not just you who'll be missing out. It's the baby as well."
Emmy felt like she'd been hit headlong by a speeding truck. Her heart thundered in her chest, and her eyes widened in shock. On some level, she was terrified of going to Sebastian and looking him in the eye. Every time she gazed into his face, she was certain that she would be reminded of what he was. And yet her dad was right, too—if Sebastian would make a good father, then she'd be taking away something from her baby by not speaking with him. And even though she hadn't been pregnant for long, she already knew that she didn't want to deprive her baby of anything ever. Plus, if the child was a werewolf—a shiver of horror ran down her spine—there were questions that she wouldn't be able to answer. What if the child needed help? What if it always felt out of place because of her lack of explanations? That wasn't fair to the baby either.
Yet she also feared that going to Sebastian would be putting the child in harm's way. Having him rip her and her child to shreds was one of her deepest fears. Yet if he'd wanted to kill her, wouldn't he have done so already? The truth of the matter was, she may have been shocked, confused, betrayed, and angry, but deep down, she was certain that Sebastian wouldn't lay a hand on her. Call it instinct or just plain naive trust, but at that moment, it was what she believed.
"So, what do you think?" Her dad examined her.
The next words were the hardest thing she'd ever had to say in her entire life. "I'll go talk with him."
She gasped as if it had caused her physical pain to say the words.
"Good." For the first time that morning, her dad grinned.
Her mom beamed. "Now, let's all have breakfast. I know that this isn't the best situation, but since it's happening anyway, we should make the most of it."
As the tension dispersed, Emmy realized that everything was going to be okay. Her parents had let things go—and had begun to accept her baby as well.
"So, what are the chances that this kid is a boy?" Her dad was trying to act neutral, but she could see he was hiding a smile.
"I don't know, about fifty-fifty." She grinned.
"Smart aleck." Her dad tousled her hair.
"Your father has always longed to have a little boy," her mom said. "He wants somebody to hassle into joining a football team."
"That's something you'll have to take up with God." Emmy snorted. "I'm afraid I don't have much control over the gender."
Her dad clasped his hands together. "Please God, let it be a boy."
"I'm going to pray it's a girl," her mom whispered in her ear.