To some degree hadn't she taught her son about shading the truth by pretending if she filled her house with plants and overbright smiles no one would notice her empty marriage?
Chris jammed his hands in his pockets. "She was worried she might be pregnant and she came over here to run the test while you were gone since there's, like, never a quiet time around her house. It's a real fishbowl over there. But she's not pregnant, so it doesn't matter, right?"
Not pregnant. Relief took the edge off her fears. If the test had been run correctly.
Rena laid a hand on her son's arm, patted until his shoulder dropped with lowering defenses. "What about false negatives on the test? She needs to be careful and take care of herself, just in case."
"A couple of hours after the test, uh, she found out for sure." Red crept up his face, tipping his ears beneath his dark curls. "She said she figured it must have been stress affecting, you know, her cycle."
J.T.'s jaw flexed. "And this makes everything okay?"
"Yeah, of course it does, Dad. She's not pregnant. Great news."
Foot throbbing as much as her head, Rena slid back into her chair, her hand tugging Chris around to face her while J.T. calmed down. "You two were lucky this time. But what happens next time? Safe sex is important for more reasons than unplanned pregnancy. There are diseases out there that can kill you."
"Like I don't know that already? They've been telling us that in school since junior high."
"All right, just doing the parent thing and checking." Rena drew in a shaky breath. "I wish you would have at least brought Miranda over to meet us."
"Miranda? I'm not seeing Miranda. She's just somebody—" Chris shuffled his feet, squeak, squeak "—from work."
J.T.'s shoulders bunched over their son's shoe squeak that chimed like a telltale lie detector. Rena rushed to add, "Okay then, whoever it is, I wish we could meet your friends."
"When?" Chris's deepening voice grew louder. "When's ever a good time around here lately? Besides, like you two have any room to preach to me about getting somebody pregnant even if I had done it."
"Enough." J.T.'s curt edict cut the air.
The air snapped between father and son. Chris's words hurt, but not as much as watching her family disintegrate under the weight of mounting tensions. "J.T., it's okay."
"Like hell it is." J.T. stepped over the pile of trash and stopped nose to nose with his son. "Don't ever talk to your mother that way again."
Chris backed until his butt bumped the counter. "Fine, okay. But I'm not dating anybody. I'm definitely not getting busy with anybody. God. Like anyone would have me. I helped a friend. That's all. You don't want me messing around in your business? Well, stay out of mine." He pivoted on his Nikes and sprinted up the stairs two at a time.
His door slam echoed.
Rena sagged back in her chair. So much for her pride in her mediation skills. Now the evening sucked on all levels. Her hands fell to her lap, peanuts and hope weighing like lumpy cookie dough in her stomach.
Kneeling, J.T. scooped up the garbage, stuffing it back into the bag until at least the floor was clear, if not their lives.
She wadded up the empty snack wrapper and extended her hand to add it to the trash. If only she could back the day up to the start of their drive, just Cokes and kisses. No stupid "Did you ever love me?" questions. "We'll talk to him again tomorrow."
J.T. gave the bag ties a vicious yank. "Damn straight I'll be talking to him. And he'll be giving you an apology shortly thereafter."
She bit back the urge to tell him to go easy on her little boy who wasn't so little anymore. More than ever she needed to let J.T. find his way as a solo parent, too, in case…
The peanuts gained fifty extra pounds of dread in her stomach.
She inched her hand up into her loose shirt and released the waist button on her skirt. She would need maternity clothes soon, new baby things. Would she and J.T. shop for a baby crib together this time? Or would they need two, one for his place and one for hers?
Reaching under the sink, he unrolled a new garbage bag and lined the trash can. He prowled the kitchen, closed an open kitchen cabinet Smacked the lid back on the airplane cookie jar.
Finally, the kitchen immaculate, he sat, leaning down to untie one boot, then the other. "At least we have a clue now as to why he's been so preoccupied."
"Do you believe him when he says he couldn't have been the father? He's sixteen, almost seventeen. I understand teenagers have sex." She was proof of that one. "But Chris hasn't seemed to go out much in anything other than groups."
J.T. dropped the boot on the floor beside the other. "I think he's telling the truth. Except I can't help but wonder what's up with this friend Miranda or whoever she is. She's obviously sleeping with someone, and she didn't turn to the father. What the hell's wrong with the guy that she wouldn't go to him?"
The unspoken accusation of Rena keeping the pregnancy secret flicked her conscience. "I know I should have told you about the baby sooner."