Page 113 of Sugar & Shadows

I would not. In fact, the suggestion was insulting. But I willed my mouth to remain closed.

“You’re a good guy. I know you’ll do the right thing,” she went on, her hands folded in her lap. “I’m planning to continue the pregnancy, and I assume you’d like to be part of that too.”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” I said, rankled by the defeat in her voice.

Had I not made it clear? I was in. No matter what. And the way she kept acting like I was some bystander in all of this was frustrating. Like fatherhood would be an obligation to me, not the most important, terrifying, consequential job of my life.

She turned to me, worrying her bottom lip in a nervous way that was so foreign. “It is. Don’t you realize it would be so much easier that way? If I could just control everything? I like control. And if I’m going to raise a daughter, I want to do it right.”

Like a record scratch, all my thoughts came to an abrupt halt. “Did you say daughter?”

Lips pursed, she nodded.

“But it’s so early,” I said, heart thudding. “Did the doctor do a test?”

“God no.” She huffed softly. “From what I read last night, genetic testing isn’t done until at least fourteen weeks. But I just know.”

“How?”

She tilted her head and frowned. “She came to me in a dream last night. We had an argument about wardrobe choices suitable for preschool graduation.” Her lips twitched. “Obviously, she was at the top of her class.”

“In preschool?”

“Yes. Keep up.”

“So science has not confirmed this?” It had been a long day, and Sabrina was not exactly herself.

“I don’t need science. The girl had my dark hair and eyes. She was sassy as shit, and she had a crooked smile.”

Breath held, I brought a hand to my lips. A crooked smile. Just like mine. Okay, I guess it was a girl, then. The realization hit me square in the chest. A daughter. Our daughter. Half me and half Sabrina.

“Maybe she’ll be calm and easygoing,” I joked.

Sabrina cackled. “There is no woman in the history of my bloodline who has been calm or reasonable. We’ve been shit-stirring opinionated bitches since the Stone Age. Best to start preparing yourself now.”

Laughter rolled out of me, matching hers, the bruise on my eye throbbing with the intensity of my joy. She was absolutely right about that. I was cooked. This kid was the size of a pea, and she already owned me.

I leaned back against the cushions, an entire future flashing before my eyes. One I’d never considered. Fatherhood. Carrying a little girl on my shoulders. Sitting patiently while she painted my nails. Standing on the sidelines, holding her water bottle while she brutalized the little boys on her kindergarten soccer team. A whole life—a full-fledged destiny—playing in my head like a movie.

And instead of panic, contentment settled in my chest.

What if I’d never been given this opportunity?

“What do we do now?” I asked.

She sighed, slumping back. “I have no idea.”

I grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“I have to have a procedure,” she explained. “To remove the IUD.”

My breath caught. “Is it dangerous?”

She shook her head. “No, not really. But the longer it stays in, the higher the risk of infection. Dr. Storrow referred me to a specialist in Burlington, and I have an appointment Thursday.”

“I’m coming,” I blurted.

She made it sound like this was no big deal, but a procedure? Infection? My fingers itched to pick up my phone and start researching.