Accidental Pregnancy

“Sure,” she replies.

There’s nothing else, though. Amanda is the type who usually wants to make definite plans, so the fact that she didn’t suggest a day means that she really is tired and off. I send her one last message.

“I hope you feel better soon.”

She doesn’t reply. I sigh and put down my phone. Part of me thinks that I should put it off a little longer; if Amanda is feeling so ill, she probably won’t want me to spring my identity on her so soon, not while she’s trying to recover.

I flatten the thought. No. It’s cowardly ideas like that which have gotten me into this mess in the first place.

“I’ll organize to bring her around to my place as soon as she’s feeling well enough to meet,” I tell Alicia. “I can’t wait to introduce you to her; I think you’ll really like her.”

“She sounds pretty amazing, especially if she’s able to keep you in line,” Alicia laughs. “I’ll look forward to meeting her.”

I smile. The thought of Amanda meeting my current life is a terrifying one. I want her to accept my life and want to be part of it.

But thinking of showing Amanda around my office, or meeting Alicia, or being introduced to my colleagues as my girlfriend… That thought is amazing, and I suddenly want to see it happen more than anything. I straighten my shoulders. The time for holding back is over.

I’m going to make it happen.

Chapter Twelve

Amanda

I feel like an absolute idiot.

I turned up at my mother’s house and knocked on the door. When she opened it, I burst into tears.

It must have been startling for her. I haven’t cried, at least in front of my parents, in years, even when my father threw his toughest ultimatums at me. But the combinations of all the revelations that have hit me in the last hour – the pregnancy, Lyle’s secrecy, my own reaction to it all – has finally pushed me over the edge.

“Amanda!” my mother cries, shocked. “What’s wrong?”

She ushers me inside. My shoulders are heaving with sobs, and thick tears are flowing down my cheeks. I feel disgusting and horrible and ugly, but I can’t stop crying. I find myself pushed onto the couch in the lounge and, when I next look up, I can hear my mother bustling around in the kitchen, the kettle on to boil.

I manage a watery chuckle. Whenever someone is upset, my mother’s solution is always tea. Not that I can blame her; she makes this amazing herbal concoction that can put anyone in a good mood.

Though I don’t think even that miracle tea will be enough for me today. My fledgling smile drops as I think about everything I’ve discovered.

By the time my mother returns, a steaming cup held carefully in front of her, my sobbing has slowed to a stop. I’m still crying, but I’m doing so quietly now with soft sniffles, dabbing at the light tears that are spilling from my eyes.

“Feel better?” my mother asks, setting the tea down on the low table in front of me.

“No,” I say bluntly, my voice thick. ?

?I feel horrible and clogged and empty.”

She chuckles softly in reply.

“That’s normally what crying does,” she agrees. “But you’ll feel better for it later. Now, why don’t you tell me what happened? Does this have something to do with Lyle? Do I need to talk to him?”

I have a sudden vision of my mother going after Lyle with a rolling pin for making me cry. The image brings a reluctant smile back to my face, one that twitches at the corner of my lips.

“No,” I say. “You don’t need to say anything. He didn’t really do anything.”

“Really?” my mother asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Well…it’s what he didn’t do that’s the issue,” I say, looking away. “He’s…kept a few things from me.”

“Like?” my mother presses.