But it’s Autumn’s choice too, and as much as I may be ready for the adult consequence of our actions, she is not. Her mother is sick and she is in a career crisis. This will stress her out. I can already see the look on her face when I tell her. She’ll close back down, never touch me again. But still, I owe it to her to tell her and give her the options.
“Plan B,” I say, turning it over in my mind.
“Tonya at CVS is really discreet.” He winks at me.
I roll my eyes. “How many times have you done this?”
He puts a finger to his lips. “You don’t want to know.”
I tap the packet of Plan B in my pocket nervously before knocking softly on Autumn’s front door. After picking it up from the CVS, I got Taco Bell and ate in my car while I went over fifteen different versions of whatever I would say to her. Then I texted her telling her that we needed to talk. I’m pretty sure I freaked her out.
She opens the door in her pajamas, hair tied in a top knot, and frowns at me. “Everything okay?”
I nod, motioning to the porch swing. She shuts the front door and follows me outside, the frown still in place. She sits next to me wringing her hands together, and I feel awful that she must be worrying about what I have to say.
“I don’t know how to say this so I’m just going to blurt it out,” I mumble.
“Owen, what’s going on?” Her voice cracks.
“Tonight … before … in your room … the condom broke.”
Her mouth forms a little “Oh” and her eyes grow wide. “I see.” She shifts nervously, and just like that I can see every awful memory of what happened before flood her face. Post-traumatic stress is a very real thing, and it has a long memory.
I press on with my speech, pulling the Plan B out of my pocket and laying it in her lap. “I don’t know where you are in your cycle, but I wanted you to have this and to know that I support whatever you want to do.”
Out of all fifteen versions I ran through in the Taco Bell parking lot, this was what I settled on. It didn’t make her feel guilty; it was supportive; and it didn’t press my opinions on her.
She frowns, her eyebrows drawing together. “So, this is where you were tonight?”
I nod, swallowing hard, praying she won’t close up and leave me.
“It happened again…” she breathes.
I nod, a little relieved that she’s talking to me, processing things.
“Maybe we’re just destined to have a baby together.” I laugh nervously, and then regret it the moment her face falls.
“Is that what you want?” Her face is a mask of flat emotion. I can’t tell what she wants me to say. This feels like a trap. If I say yes, she feels like it’s all on her again to make the hard choice. If I say no, I’m an unsupportive asshole.
“I want what you want,” I hedge.
She crosses her arms and glares at me. “Owen, don’t do this again. Tell me what you want, not what you think I want to hear.”
She’s right.
I clear my throat. “I’d love to have a baby with you. No matter what our relationship turns out to be, I’d always be there to support you and the child.”
Her eyes widen like she’s shocked at my answer and I suddenly feel self-conscious. “But I mean, if you take the pill that would be fine too. Whatever you decide.”
She’s quiet for a moment, staring down at the package. “You’re a sweet man, Owen Miller. I’m not sure I deserve you.”
Her words crush me. What have I done wrong that she doesn’t realize her worth? That she doesn’t see how lucky I am to have her?
“Autumn, look at me.” I hold her gaze and she swallows hard.
“I stood drunk in your dorm room and called you a murderer in front of your entire floor. And you forgave me. It’s me who doesn’t deserve you.”
Tears well in her eyes, before she chuckles. “Making friends was a bit of a challenge after that. Not gonna lie.”
She’s trying to joke but guilt threads through me as I reach out and take her hands in mine, pulling them up to my lips so that I can kiss her fingers. “This isn’t like last time. You have seventy-four hours to decide which path you want to take.”
She nods, and I can see the terrified deer-in-headlights look in her eyes.
“Want me to leave you some time alone? Or…” I want to be supportive of whatever she needs without smothering her.
She shakes her head. “Stay the night?”
Relief crashes through me. This time is different. It’s going to be okay, we’re going to be okay. But I don’t like the way she’s looking at the cardboard pill box. Like she can’t wait until she’s alone so she can take it. Maybe that’s why she asked me to stay, so she can put off the irreparable decision for just a little longer.
I’m too scared to ask her what she wants to do about the situation … so I don’t.
Chapter 18
Autumn
I couldn’t sleep last night, even in Owen’s arms. I just kept thinking about that fucking pill in my purse.
Plan B.
More like Plan WTF.
How did I get myself into this situation AGAIN? It’s like Owen looks at me and boom, I’m pregnant. One session of wall sex in my childhood bedroom and a broken condom later and now I can’t sleep.
Owen’s chest rises and falls at my back in a hypnotic rhythm, but I can’t lie here any longer. Instead I’m thinking of sore breasts, swollen feet, and an adorable baby with Owen’s eyes and my smile.
Do I want a baby?
After the abortion so long ago, I hadn't allowed myself to dream of having a baby one day, in the way most women I know dream of it. It felt so out of reach, maybe even something not allowed to a person who'd made the kind of choice I had. You didn't want a baby back then? Then you don't get one ever.
That's not how the universe works, and I know that, but guilt is a multi-pronged weapon.
Instead of thinking of Owen and I in domestic bliss with a baby, I can’t stop thinking about everything going wrong in my life.
My mother is battling cancer for the third time.
I am jobless and in a small town that doesn’t exactly have a lot of opportunity for someone with my qualifications.
I just started hooking up with my high school sweetheart who ruined me for every other guy and…
I should throw a baby in there?
No. That would be crazy. Right? Maybe if my shit were more together … but at this point Owen would have to financially support me and the baby and I never wanted that kind of life.
A kept woman.
I pull open my period predictor app for the fiftieth time and check the day in my cycle again.
Ovulating.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I feel like I can’t breathe. I need to go for a drive. The sunlight is just peeking through the curtains in my room and I know I have to get out of here before Owen wakes up. I can’t face him right now.
Stepping into my bathroom, I brush my teeth and pull my purse over my shoulder. Reaching into my bag, I pull out the Plan B and flip over the package.
When using this product you may have…
Nausea