The fetus.
All the air left his lungs in an explosive exhale, and then he couldn’t take another breath. Eyes fixed to the little blip on the picture, the tiny dot that was a life…that he’d created…the café and everyone in it faded. He could have sworn he felt the wind on his face, because his skin was being scraped all over, even beneath his clothes.
He knew how the whole make-a-baby thing worked. Not just the physical aspect; he understood that for parents, there was something wonderful about contemplating bits of themselves in new humans, growing in bellies. He’d overheard Mercy giving Michael some sort of father-to-father pep talk once: “It’s you, and it’s her, and it’s perfect, ain’t it?” He hadn’t known, not really. Hadn’t felt that deep kick in his gut, heard that little voice that said,“That’s a part of you right there, boy. That’s your blood, your flesh.”
He heard it now. Loud and clear. Something cosmic was happening to him in this café booth, and he hadn’t been prepared for it. Couldn’t seem to breathe properly.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked, dazed, clenching the sonogram tight between his fingers as he lifted his gaze to Tonya.
Her mouth pinched up tight. “They won’t be able to tell that for a while.”
“Oh.”
“It shouldn’t matter.”
He’d had all these visions of himself being a total asshole to her, self-righteous and furious throughout this meeting. But he was crumbling. “I mean…” He heard the softness in his voice, and hated it, but couldn’t seem to stop. “It’d be easier with a boy. But I’m not saying a girl’s bad or anything.”
She took a slow sip of her coffee and stared at him with such coldness. “You misunderstand me. It won’t matter, because neither one of us are going to be its parents.”
He swore the floor tilted beneath his boots. “What…”
“I’m giving it up for adoption. I’m already looking into agencies.”
He opened his mouth, and…nothing.
Tonya sighed and rubbed a spot on her forehead, like she was tired, stressed, and put out with him. “Shit. This was a stupid idea.”
He could only stare at her.
“Aidan, listen, I didn’t tell you because I wanted to involve you. I genuinely wanted you to know that the next time you tear a girl’s dress open and ride her bareback in a motorcycle garage, there’s a good chance you’ll wind up a father.”
“I…”
“And next time, it won’t be me, but some grabby, lovestruck biker groupie trying to trap you.”
“We…”
“Take this as a life lesson. Always use protection.”
He slapped his hand down on the table and coffee sloshed out of her mug. The condiment bottles rattled and patrons turned their heads sharply to see what the noise was about.
Tonya sat back in the booth, eyes widening.
“What in the hell are you talking about?” he hissed.
She dampened her lips, composed herself. Hardened her stare. “I’m seeing someone. Seriously. He’s one of the investment bankers at my father’s bank. If things work out, he and I will want to have children some day. Children of our own,” she said with emphasis. “I’m not heartless. I’m going to find the child the best parents I possibly can. But I’m not going to keep it.”
He swallowed with difficulty. “Because it’s mine.”
“Because it’s the product of lust and anger. That’s no way to start a life.”
“Do I get a say?”
She made a sound in her throat. “What? You want to be a father? Won’t that get in the way of your stripper-fucking and binge-drinking? That club of yours is no place to raise a baby. Consider it a kindness, me keeping the baby away from you.”
“I…” He couldn’t believe she was saying this, any of it. Her words were precise, unemotional…and completely brutal. Give her child away? Act rationally about the life growing inside her? That wasn’t Mags, wasn’t Ava, wasn’t even Holly, Mina, Nell.
That was his own mother. Down to the letter.
