The Moment We Began (A Fairhope New Adult Romance) (9 page)

I think he’s going to ask me how I could be
pregnant when I haven’t really been dating anyone, but he
surprises me.

“Are you going to tell Mason?”

My mouth falls open. “How—”

“I’m not blind, Penny. I’ve seen
the way you both look at each other,” he says. “I knew
something was going on there, but I wasn’t sure how serious it
had gotten.”

“He doesn’t want a relationship with
me,” I say. I fold my arms over the tops of my knees and rest
my head against them. “Sex, yes. Relationship? No. He doesn’t
want to be tied down.”

My voice cracks as I say those last words out
loud. What am I going to do? Can I really raise a baby on my own?

I hide my face inside my arms, exhausted from
crying way too much over the last twelve hours. Eventually, you’d
think the tears would stop coming.

“It’s going to be okay,” he
says. He puts his hand on top of my foot.

“How?” I ask. “It’s hard
to see how this is all going to work out. My mind keeps running
through all these possibilities. Mom and Dad are obviously going to
be devastated. I mean, I know they’ll love their grandchild no
matter what the circumstances are, but let’s face it. A
surprise pregnancy when I’m not engaged or married isn’t
exactly ideal.”

“No, but it’s not like you’re
some teen mom. You’re an adult,” he says.

I snort. “An adult who still lives at home
and who just wrecked her non-boyfriend’s expensive car while
drunk driving,” I say. “This isn’t your strongest
argument.”

Preston smiles and shakes his head. “Well,
you do have a point, there.”

I smile and straighten my legs across the couch.
“And what about Mason? If he doesn’t want to be with me,
he’s not going to suddenly change his mind just because I’m
pregnant,” I say. “And if he does, that’s worse.
I’m not exactly hoping for a shotgun wedding here. I want him
to be with me because he loves me, and there’s nothing I can do
to make that happen. Telling him about the baby is only going to
complicate that whole situation.”

“I know he says he doesn’t want to be
with you, but I swear, you should see the way he looks at you
sometimes when you’re not paying attention,” Preston
says. “There’s something there, Penny.”

Hope flutters through my stomach, but I try to
ignore it. “Yeah, it’s called lust,” I say. “He’s
only interested in one thing. I thought that was going to be enough,
you know? Just to be close to him.”

“I don’t think that’s all there
is for him,” he says. “I know him, Penny. I can tell by
the way he talks about you and looks at you that he cares about you a
lot. And not just as a friend.”

“That’s not what he says.” I’m
scared to get my hopes up. I have to remind myself that just last
night, he told me we weren’t right for each other. He doesn’t
want me. “He’s made it very clear he doesn’t want
me for anything more than friendship and the occasional sexy times.
And weren’t you just telling me last weekend that I should
forget about him and go out with someone else?”

Preston shrugs. “I just didn’t want to
see you get hurt,” he says. “Mason’s...complicated.”

To say the least.

“What are you going to do about the baby?”
he asks. “You’ll have to tell him eventually, I guess.”

I lean my head back against the throw pillow. “I
have to get him to take my calls first,” I say. “I’m
sure he’s incredibly pissed about his car.”

“Insurance will pay for the car. That should
be the least of your worries right now.”

“There’s so much to think about. What
am I going to do about school? I’ll have to miss the last
couple months of Spring semester,” I say. “Should I get
my own place, or stay here? I am not even remotely prepared for
what’s about to happen to my body. It’s making my head
spin just thinking about all of this.”

“Maybe you should try to get some rest,”
he says. “All that stuff will still be here when you wake up.
Maybe after some good sleep, you’ll be able to think clearer
and make some decisions about who to tell and what you want to do.”

“I really wish I could talk to Mason,”
I say. “He’s not answering my calls.”

“It might be better to wait until you know
what you’re going to say to him, anyway.”

I shrug. “I just want to know he doesn’t
hate me.”

“He doesn’t,” Preston says. “I
promise.”

“How do you know?”

“Because we all make mistakes. And because
true friends are going to stick by you even when you seriously fuck
up,” he says. “Mason’s been in your life too long
and he cares about you too much to turn his back on you over this.
You should have seen him out there after your accident. When you
drove off, he rushed inside and yelled for help. We heard the tires
squeal and all hopped in the back of Knox’s truck to come find
you. He wasn’t mad, Penny. He was terrified.”

My eyes widen. So I hadn’t dreamed it. “He
was there?”

“Yes. He might just be taking some time to
work it out in his head. Maybe he thinks you need some space. Get
some sleep, okay? I’ll stay out here and watch TV just in case
you need anything.”

I nod slowly and yawn, suddenly so tired I can
barely keep my eyes open.

I stand and wrap my arms around him. “Thank
you,” I say. “I don’t know what I would do without
you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,”
he says. “I love you sis.”

“Love you, too.”

I disappear into my bedroom, but keep the door
cracked. Just knowing Preston’s there watching out for me
helps. When I lay down, all I can do is toss and turn for a while, my
mind spinning with questions and fears. Eventually, I fall asleep and
dream of what it will be like to hold a tiny baby in my arms.

That evening, I emerge from my bedroom to find
Preston sitting on the couch in my living room watching baseball.

My hair is wild from tossing and turning and my
jaw is throbbing. There are bandages covering the worst of the cuts
on my face and hands and knees. I walk over to the table to find the
extra gauze and bandages we picked up on the way home.

“Hey sleepyhead,” Preston says. “Did
you get some good rest?”

“A little,” I say. “I didn’t
want to get out of bed, but I desperately need a shower. I stink.”

“I thought I smelled something,” he
says.

I throw a box of gauze at his head, but he catches
it instead.

“Lucky catch,” I say.

“It’s the skills,” he says,
laughing. He turns around on the couch to look at me. “They
didn’t want to wake you up, but Mom and Dad want to see you
downstairs as soon as you’re feeling up to it.”

“I don’t think I’m ever going to
feel up to that conversation,” I say, groaning.

“You should just get it over with,” he
says. “You’ll feel better once it’s done and
they’ve said whatever it is they need to say.”

“I can’t tell them about the baby,”
I say. “Not yet. Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“I’m going to get in the shower and
get dressed,” I say. “I’ll be out in a little
while.”

He nods and goes back to the Braves game.

I linger in the shower longer than I should, but
the hot water feels so good. I let it wash the dried blood from my
scratches and the dirt from my legs and hands and hair. When I come
out, I feel like a new person. Naked, I stand in front of the large
mirror in my closet and place my hand against my tummy. I turn
sideways and try to imagine what it will look like when I start to
grow bigger.

I’ve always been a baby freak. I’m
always the first person to show up at baby showers. Usually with the
biggest, most extravagant gift. Any time one of my cousins or someone
else in our family has a baby, I make a beeline straight to them,
begging to hold the little one. I love babies so much, and have
always wanted to be a mom. I just never thought this would be the way
it would happen.

But here, all alone in my own space, with no one
watching or judging, I gently rub my hand across my stomach.

And I smile.

I feel stronger when I walk downstairs to face my
parents. Like no matter what they say to me, I know I have something
of my own now. Someone I need to be strong for.

Still, stronger doesn’t mean I’m not
also a little bit sick to my stomach.

I hate disappointing my parents. I hate it when
they’re mad at me. They get that look in their eyes that makes
me feel like I’ve just ruined their lives or something. Like I
am personally responsible for their happiness and instead, all I’ve
done is make them sad.

I’ve gotten plenty of lectures before, but
I’ve never done anything that has remotely compared to the
complete fuck-up of last night.

I’m relieved to see Preston sitting on the
piano bench in the great room. Dad is sitting next to Mom on the
couch, so I sit down on the chair closest to the piano. I don’t
know what to say, so I keep my mouth shut and pray this doesn’t
last long. I’m incredibly tired, which I’m guessing is a
side-effect of the pregnancy. I could literally lay my head down on a
rock and fall asleep right now.

The tension in the room is thick and sharp and
uncomfortable.

I fidget, waiting for someone to say something.

Finally, Dad lifts his head. He waits for me to
meet his eyes. When I do, the anger and disappointment I see in them
makes me feel like I’m wearing a fifty pound cloak of shame
around my shoulders.

“I cannot even begin to tell you how angry I
am right now,” he says. His voice is calm and even. Controlled
and very deliberate. “Your actions have not only put lives in
danger, but they’ve also put our entire family name in the
toilet. A drunk driving accident isn’t something that can
easily be swept under the rug. There are police reports, insurance
claims, hospital records. Several documented reports as to what
happened last night, which means your mother and I are both having to
call in personal favors to try to get this taken care of so you don’t
have to sit in jail.”

My head snaps up at the word. I definitely can’t
afford to go to jail right now.

“You’re lucky you’re not losing
your drivers license all together,” he says. “I managed
to get any charges dropped, but believe me when I say that if
anything like this ever happens again, you’re one hundred
percent on your own. Drunk driving is completely unacceptable, Penny.
I’m so ashamed of you.”

I bite down on my bottom lip.

“I’m not even sure how you got the
keys to Mason’s car, but you better believe I’m going to
be questioning him intensely about why he gave you access to his car
when you were obviously under the influence,” he says.

I sit up. “Wait, it wasn’t Mason’s—”

He holds up his hand. “Don’t speak.
Now is when you listen.”

I collapse back against the chair, my toes tapping
against the hardwoods. He can’t possibly blame Mason for this.
If he accuses him of being in any way responsible, he’s only
going to make things worse for me. Dammit. I should have a right to
talk, here. I understand them wanting to say their peace, but I’m
not going to let him make it worse.

“I’m also having Knox’s bar shut
down pending an investigation into over-serving,” he says.

I shoot up. “No! You can’t do that, it
wasn’t Knox’s fault.”

My father stands up, too. He towers over me. “I
will do what’s necessary to make sure something like this
doesn’t happen again.”

“If you want to yell at me, go ahead. Rake
me over the coals, tell me I’m an idiot, whatever. But don’t
drag my friends into this and ruin their lives over my mistake,”
I say. “Knox did nothing wrong. I had been drinking before I
even got to his bar. Besides, he had already closed up for the
evening. It was a private party. As far as Knox knew, I was there
with Braxton. I didn’t even have my car there.”

I realize I have no idea what happened to Braxton
last night. I assume he just headed home after I left the bar, but I
hadn’t even thought of him until now. I’m sure after the
way I acted, he’ll never want to talk to me again anyway.

“And as for Mason’s car, I stole it,”
I say. “I got angry, grabbed his keys and took off. He tried to
stop me, but didn’t get to me fast enough. You can’t
blame him for that. It’s not like he handed the keys to me. I
took them out of his pocket. It was my mistake. My fault. No one
else.”

My father clenches his jaw, the muscles in his
cheeks tensing. “What were you thinking?”

“Obviously I wasn’t thinking,” I
say, sitting back down in my chair.

“Obviously,” my mother says. “It’s
things like this that could ruin your life forever. If you had hit
someone else, you could have been charged with a serious crime,
Penelope. This is no laughing matter.”

“I’m not laughing,” I swallow a
lump in my throat.

“Neither are we,” Dad says. “We
have given you everything you could have ever wanted in life. Every
opportunity to make the most of yourself. When you make stupid
decisions like getting behind the wheel of a car and speeding through
downtown, it’s like saying you don’t care if you throw it
all away. How do you think that makes us feel?”

I don’t answer. It’s not the kind of
question that really needs an answer.

“You looked so beautiful and mature last
night,” Mom says. “When you walked out of this house with
that handsome young man, I had this vision of you as a young wife
starting out in life. Someone with real dreams and goals and a great
future ahead.”

She’s laying the guilt on thick, and it’s
working.

“I feel like you just took those dreams and
stomped on them.” She’s crying now. “You’ve
broken us, Penny. The trust between us has been broken, and it’s
going to take a long time to heal this. You’re an adult, so
you’re free to make your own decisions, but if you want to
start building back our trust, there are going to have to be some
consequences.”