Did I plan to be a young single mother? No. And even though I’m scared of what the future might hold, I’m excited too. I don’t know why I denied the truth for so long when a certain sense of contentment has lodged deep in my bones now I have faced up to my new reality.
It was selfish not to have done a test a few weeks ago when I first suspected. There isn’t just me to consider now. I’m nurturing this little life, and I need to take care of him or her. I vow to make a doctor’s appointment ASAP, and I make a mental note to download a couple of pregnancy books on my e-reader. “It’s you and me, kiddo,” I whisper, running a hand across my stomach. “I might not know the first thing about being a mom, but I promise I will learn and I will try.”
Wiping all trace of tears from my face, I swipe my purse, jacket, and car keys, stopping by the sunroom where Mom is reading to let her know I’m heading out. Tony trails me out the front door, and I hand him the keys to my black Lexus SUV, happy to let him drive for a change. He stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head, and I laugh. I get it. I hate having anyone do anything for me, and I usually insist on driving myself everywhere. But I’m still a little dazed, and I need time to try to make sense of my muddled thoughts.
I message Pen from the car, praying she’s at home and that Esme is with Mikel, her latest fuck buddy. I don’t plan on keeping it a secret from her. I just need advice from my straight-shooting levelheaded best friend right now.
Esme will freak out when she discovers I’m pregnant. She sees how hard her sister struggles as a single mother, and she won’t be calm or reticent about vocalizing her opinion. I can’t handle that yet.
Pen’s immediate reply states she is home alone, and I settle back in the seat, thinking over my options as we drive toward the city.
“Hey, you.” Pen greets me at the door with a hug, which I readily fall into. “Come in.” She steps aside to let me enter the three-bedroom condo she shares with Esme and another friend from U of C while Tony takes up guard in the corridor. Pen drags a chair out for him to sit on, handing him a bottle of water. He nods his appreciation before sitting.
Pen closes the door behind us, and I pull off my jacket, dropping it on the arm of the couch. I survey the homey open-plan living area with a pang of envy. I wanted to room with my besties, but Father put his foot down, and Mom sided with him. She fought tooth and nail to get him to agree to let me attend Loyola, and she educated me in the fine art of compromise. So, I had to sacrifice living an independent college life in pursuit of my career of choice. After this semester, I have one more year before I’ll graduate with my biomedical science degree, and then I have another two years to specialize in acupuncture and homeopathy.
“You look gorgeous,” Pen says, cocking her head to the side as she examines me. “Did you do something different with your hair or have you found some new miracle skincare products because, girl, you’re glowing.”
“That would be the pregnancy hormones,” I deadpan, flopping down on the couch.
Pen stumbles back, clutching the sideboard to steady herself. Her eyes are almost bugging out of her head, and her mouth is gaping open.
“I probably shouldn’t have blurted it out like that,” I admit, shrugging. “But there’s no easy way to say I’m knocked up.”
“Oh. My. God.” Composing herself, she rushes to my side. “Stupid question, but are you sure?”
“Yeah. I took a test, but I’ve known for a few weeks. I was just too chicken to confirm it until now.”
“Wow.” She sinks into the soft couch beside me. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure—except I’m keeping it.” An involuntary smile ghosts over my lips as my hands automatically move to my stomach.
“I already knew that part.” She twists around so she’s facing me. “You were born to be a mother, Sierra. You’re strong and patient, and you have that legendary Zen energy working in your favor.”
“I’m scared,” I admit. “When I imagined myself as a mom, there was always a dad, a husband, in that picture, and I was older.”
“Age doesn’t make a mother, and who says there won’t be a dad? A husband?” She twiddles the small engagement ring on her finger as she arches a brow.
Pen knows who the father is because I haven’t as much as kissed any other guy since Vegas. It’s not for lack of attention. There were a couple of guys I met over the Christmas break, at college parties, who would’ve happily taken me to their beds, but I already suspected I was pregnant, and I had zero interest in further complicating the situation.
“I’m not a little kid with a crush anymore, and I won’t entertain delusions. Ben might be willing to sign up for parental duties, but there’s no way he’s interested in being my husband.”
“You won’t know until you talk to him.” She purses her lips for a moment. “You are planning on telling him, right?”
I nod. “He has a right to know, and I owe it to my child to tell him. How he reacts and deals with it is on him then.” Kicking off my shoes, I rest my back against the arm of the couch, tucking my knees into my chest. “But I am scared that involving him could mean I’m opening me and my child to a world I know nothing about. You saw those men he was with.”
“I know, and you’re right to be concerned.”
Silence engulfs the room for a few minutes. “Do you think I should leave it alone then? Just do this myself?”
She drags her lower lip between her teeth. “I don’t envy your position, Sierra, but I can’t tell you what to do. It’s got to be your decision.” Reaching out, she clasps my clammy hands in her warm ones. “Just know that whatever you decide, you have my support, and I will help you as much as I can.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Thank you, Pen. I really needed to hear that.” I sniff, wiping a couple of errant tears from my cheeks. Pregnancy hormones are no joke. It’s like they are directly connected to my tear ducts. “I was thinking about this on the way over. I feel like I must tell him. At some point, my child will ask who their daddy is. How could I live with myself if I kept him or her away from Ben because of my suspicions? I could be wrong. Just because Scarface Salerno is clearly part of the mob doesn’t necessarily mean Ben is too.” I know I’m likely grasping at straws, but I’m trying to justify it so I do the right thing.
“Do you know how to reach him?”
I shake my head.
“We can Google him.” She grabs her iPad from the side table. “If he’s got connections to the mob, there’s bound to be something online about him.”
“I’ve been tempted to Google him plenty of times,” I admit. “But I’ve held back because he told me to forget about him, and I worried I might find something I didn’t like.”
Whether he is in the mafia or just has mafia connections, Ben is a dangerous man. I saw enough to know it, and I hope I’m doing the right thing here. Because protecting my baby is my only priority, and if that means I end up having to keep this a secret from my baby daddy, then I won’t hesitate to do it.
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