Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
That I’m the father.
And I am scared fucking shiftless. Absolutely terrified.
I know I sound like a complete pussy when I tell my brother the truth. “I’m not ready for this. I’m fucking twenty-seven years old and nowhere near ready for this.”
Max steps closer to me and puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. He gives it a squeeze and stares me right in the eye. “I know you have to be scared right now, and I know you think you’re not ready for this. But baby brother, we can get you ready for this. You’ll have me and Jules nearby, and you know there’s no doubt that Mom and Dad will be there for you, as well as Malik and Simone.”
Of course I know that. My family is the fucking bomb. While I’m closest to Max because of our connection to hockey, I’m still very close to my other brother and sister and my parents.
“How did she leave it with you?” Max asks.
“I asked for a paternity test,” I tell him. “I don’t think that made her happy, but you know after that shit I went through with Tiffany I can’t help but be cautious.”
Max nods. He is well aware of the one time I took a stab at a relationship and found out that I’d latched myself to a whole lot of crazy. After just a few weeks of exclusive dating, Tiffany was trying to get me to pick out engagement rings. That freaked me the fuck out and I called it quits. She continued to stalk me for several weeks until I had to threaten to go to the police to get her to leave me alone. I’m not stupid enough to think all women are like this, but I am smart enough to know that this is a possibility.
“What does your gut tell you?” Max asks me cautiously.
With a sigh of pure resignation I tell him, “I think it’s mine. Stephanie doesn’t come across as crazy, and if she thinks I’m the father, I probably am.”
Max takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Okay, this is my advice. I think you need to accept that this is probably a done deal. You need to decide what type of role you want.”
“Role?”
“Do you want to be actively involved in the kid’s life or do you just want to pay child support?”
The look I give Max says I think he’s a dumbass. “Seriously, dude? Do you even know me at all?”
Max laughs. “You’ll be involved. I know that, but I just wanted to point out…you’ve got options.”
“Moving on,” I say dryly. Because if I have a child, even though I’m not ready for it, I’m totally going to be involved. That’s serious shit and I wouldn’t ever fuck around with that. My parents definitely taught me better.
“Then you need to make an effort to get to know Stephanie. If you’re going to share custody of a child, you’ve got to have some type of established means of communication.”
I don’t like it, but I admit this is good advice. While Max is the romantic and would probably offer to marry a woman he got pregnant, he knows that’s not me. I would never shirk my responsibility to a child, but I don’t believe marriage is necessary to raise one.
“And she definitely wants to keep the child?” Max asks me, which causes my stomach to turn sour with fear.
“We didn’t talk about that,” I tell him in a panic. “She said she has a doctor’s appointment next month. You don’t think she would have an abortion, do you?”
“I don’t know, man,” Max says empathetically. “Is that even a possible choice for you?”
I mutter a string of curses and look at my brother helplessly. “I don’t know, Max. I don’t fucking know what to do.”
Chapter 2
Stephanie
I pull up my mother’s phone number from contacts and dial it, pressing my cellphone tight to my ear. As expected, I get her voicemail. She never answers my calls, but I prefer it that way. Over the years we’ve lapsed into the habit of communicating through voicemail, because it’s just easier.
I’m still reeling from the news that I am in fact pregnant. There was a part of me that didn’t believe the home pregnancy test, so I was actually faintly surprised when the doctor confirmed it. I mean…I didn’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I be feeling something if I’m pregnant? A fluttering in my stomach? Sore boobs? I know nothing of pregnancy. I have no clue what to do or how I’m going to raise a child. It’s not something I had ever planned to do.
It’s not something I ever wanted to do.
It’s so daunting I believe I would literally sell my soul to the devil if I could just have one person I could confide this information to. A friend, a family member—hell, even a trusty neighborhood bartender I could spill the secret to and ask for advice.