“Oh my God, Aidy.” Wren greets me at the door Saturday morning, her face white as a sheet and her hands gripping my wrists. I thought I could slip in without her noticing, but of course the one time I do, she’s up at the crack of dawn. Judging by the look on her face, something terrible happened or she’s freaked out by the fact that I didn’t come home last night and forgot to let her know.
“What? What it is it?”
“I’ve been trying to call you,” she says, her voice trembling and body shaky.
“Where’s Enzo? My phone died last night. What’s going on?”
“Enzo’s fine. He’s at his dad’s,” she says, face white as a sheet. “Aidy, I’m pregnant.”
“Wren . . .”
She releases her grip on me and backs away, falling limply into an arm chair. Her expression is still dazed.
“Are you sure? Like you’re one-hundred percent positive?” I ask.
Her lashes flutter, and her gaze flicks to mine. “Go check the bathroom. I took five tests this morning. Every single one is positive.”
I abandon my bag, letting it slip off my shoulder and down my arm, and I take a seat across from her. “Okay, so this . . . this wasn’t planned, but it’s okay because you have Chauncey and he’s amazing and he’ll be such a great father. Does he know yet?”
She nods, slow. “Yeah. He was here this morning when I took the tests.”
Brows furrowed, I ask, “Where’d he go?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. He just had this panicked look on his face, like he was just as shocked as I was, if not more so. And he was quiet. And then he left.”
“Jesus.” I bury my face in my hands. Heaven help Chauncey if he so much as abandons my sister. I never pegged him as that type, but it’s always the ones you least suspect.
I save my questions. I don’t need to know how this happened. Condoms break. Birth control isn’t always one-hundred percent. And it doesn’t matter because she’s pregnant and there’s no going back now.
“Aidy, I’m so scared,” she says. “He’s been gone an hour. And he hasn’t answered my calls.”
We sit in silence for a second, letting the weight of everything sink in.
“And I know I had my doubts before,” she says, voice quivering, “but it was only because I loved him so much, I was afraid to lose him.”
“That’s why you’ve been putting everything off?”
Wren nods. “I know it doesn’t make sense to you. But part of me thought that if I could delay the wedding or convince him not to marry me, then I could avoid the inevitable. Guys leave, right? That’s what they do. They love you and they leave you.”
My lips part but nothing comes out. I want to tell her she’s wrong. I want to tell her Chauncey isn’t like that. But I don’t know that I can. All I know is that he was here. And he left. And now he’s gone.
“What am I supposed to do?” Wren buries her face in her hands. “I can barely support Enzo on my own.”
The lock behind me clicks, and the door swings open. Chauncey shows himself in, taking hesitant steps. He and my sister stare blankly at one another at first, and then my sister’s eyes fill with tears that I’m not sure are relief that he came back or sadness that he left in the first place.
He holds something behind his back, and he goes to her, falling to his knees.
“Why’d you leave me?” Wren asks, her expression twisted and hurt.
“I didn’t leave you, baby.” Chauncey’s jaw hangs, words sputtering as he tries to explain. “I don’t know. I was in shock. I needed some air. I needed to think.”
Chauncey, as great as he is with Enzo, has always made it crystal clear to Wren that he didn’t want children of his own. His life is Wren, Enzo, and Finnegan’s Pizza. The man works fifty, sometimes sixty hours a week. He doesn’t have time for much else.
“And I thought about it,” he says. “I thought about everything.”
Chauncey pulls a small bouquet of pink peonies from behind his back, Wren’s favorite, and hands them to her.
“And I think we can do this,” he says. “I mean, I know we can do this. Maybe it wasn’t planned, and it’s not what I thought I wanted, but I want it now. I want it with you. I watch you with Enzo, and you’re an amazing mother, Wren. I can’t imagine anyone else as the mother to my child.”
Wren’s hands fly to her face and she sniffs before dabbing her eyes on the back of her hand.
“I’m sorry I left this morning,” he says. “But I needed to clear my head and really think about this. I don’t want you to think I was leaving you. That I was leaving because of this. I just needed a minute to breath, let this sink in.”
He rises, pulling her up and wrapping his arms around her.
“I love you so much,” he says.
“I love you too.” Wren rises on her toes, kissing him.
“My mother’s going to freak out. You know that, right?” he says with a chuckle. I’ve heard Wren talk about how much his mother’s been pressuring them to have a baby. She treats Enzo like one of her own, but she’s got baby fever something fierce. “She’s probably going to insist that I marry you right away, make things right. You know how she is.”
Wren nods. “I know exactly how she is.”
“What do you say we get married sooner? City Hall? Just like you wanted.” Chauncey wipes a tear from Wren’s cheek. “I don’t need a fancy wedding. I just need you.”
Wren nods, kissing him again. “Yeah. I think that sounds perfect.”
I’m happy for them.
I really am.
“Aidy, I totally forgot you were sitting there.” Wren laughs, drying her eyes. “I’m so sorry we just forced our telenovela on you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I stand, grabbing my bags and wheeling them to my room. I stop and hug each of them on the way. “I do love a happy ending. Congrats. I love you guys, and I can’t wait to have a new niece or nephew to love on.”
It hits me as I leave the two of them, that if they’re getting married in a month, that gives me a lot less time to figure out what my next move is . . . where I’m going to live . . . whether I’m going to stay in New York or move to L.A.
I wasn’t expecting to have to make my final decision yet.
I thought I had more time.
Twenty-Nine
Ace
* * *
“Good to see you, Ace.” Lou meets me at a coffee shop Sunday afternoon. “Jesus, it’s wicked hot out here today. You staying cool, Ace? You doing all right?”
I take a seat across from him, feeling the stare from a group of women sitting at a table a few feet away. Ever since I shaved, I’ve been “spotted” more often. I’ve even signed a few autographs, mostly for kids, because I keep going back to that night when I made Aidy’s nephew cry, and I can’t have that on me again.
“You look really good,” Lou says, finally noticing the shaved look I’m sporting. “Glad you lost that furry animal on your face. Never been a fan of those things.”