“What...” He takes a step toward me. “What kind of clinic?”
I bite my lip. Summon the words. Force myself to say it out loud. Two words.
“I’m pregnant.”
Chapter
Seven
“Holy shit.” He stumbles.
Stares at his feet for a moment, wipes a palm across his face. And then he’s in motion. Wrapping his arms around me. Pulling me around to sit on the couch. On his lap on the couch. My cheek to his chest. Hand on my back, rubbing in soothing circles as I sob.
“You’re pregnant. How long have you known?”
“I just took the test.”
“But if you took the test at a clinic, you’ve been worried about it for a while, then. Right?”
I shrug. “I suppose. I was worried. I missed my period three weeks ago. The doctor at the hospital thought I might be pregnant, actually. So it’s been in my mind all this while. And I’ve been getting sick in the mornings lately.”
A silence.
“Holy shit. You’re pregnant.” A silence. “We’re having a baby.”
“Logan.” I realize something, a factor I’m not sure he’s thought of. “I—The time frame. I don’t know—”
He takes my face in his hands, lifts my face up so I’m looking at him. There’s nothing but love in his eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Isabel. Iknow.” He kisses me, quickly, softly.
“Logan, it may not be—”
“You were with both him and me in the same span of time. So it could be either Caleb’s or mine. That’s what you’re saying. And I’m saying I know.”
“And you’re not—you don’t—?”
“What did you think I’d do? Kick you out? Tell you to take it to him? Say, ‘Not my problem’? I love you, Isabel. I’m here. We’re together. No matter what happens.” He pauses. “Is it easy for me to accept? No. I’m not sitting here saying, ‘Hey, cool, the woman I love is having a baby and we don’t know if it’s mine or the man who’s cost me five years in prison and my eye.’ It’s not cool. It’s not fine. Thinking about it in those terms makes me a little crazy.”
“That’s what I’m—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “But what I’m not going to do is condemn you or hold anything against you or push you away. It’ll take time to come to terms with, but I’ll do that in my own way, on my own terms and in my own time. And I’m not going to get all nasty with you over it in the meantime.”
This just makes me weep all the harder. “I don’t understand you, Logan, and I certainly don’t deserve you.”
He touches my chin, and I meet his gaze. He speaks softly. “Doing the right thing isn’t always easy, Isabel. You know that. But it’s always an option. It’s a choice. To be a good person is a choice, day by day. I had to choose—still have to choose each and every day—to not hate Caleb for everything he’s done to me, to not seek revenge. I have to choose, in this case, to continue loving you, no matter what. That means accepting the reality of difficult circumstances. I’m not going to abandon you or push you away. It’s hard, yes, but my love for you is stronger.”
I cling to him. “I love you, Logan. I was so scared. So worried about what you’d say, what you’d do.”
“His, mine, I don’t care. It’sours. We’ll handle this together.” He goes silent. “Have you decided if you’re... keeping it?” This sounds like an afterthought. Something he realized I may have considered.
“I haven’t gotten that far, Logan. I don’t even know... what to do. What to think. What I want. I want to not be pregnant. I want to not... I want to not be such a horrible person that I don’t even know which of you is the father. How awful is that? What kind of horrible woman am I, that I’m pregnant and don’t even know who—who... who the—the father is?”
I break down, then. Truly break down.
Sobbing. Mucus dripping. Chest heaving. Hyperventilating. Unable to function, to see, to move, to do anything other than just... break.
Shatter: to break suddenly and violently into pieces.
Logan just holds me. Lets me break, and clings to me through it.
