“Of course I knew,” he said. “Anyone walking into this office could tell that. So she’s pregnant?”
“Yeah.”
“And she’s keeping it?”
“I tried to convince her otherwise, but . . .”
“You tried to convince her to get an abortion?” he asked skeptically.
“I don’t think she’s really ready to be a mother, to be completely honest. I sure as hell am not interested in being a father. Nor am I interested in getting together with her, as I’m sure she was initially hoping. Pregnancy is not a cure-all for any relationship woes, and we weren’t even in a relationship.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll say. Well . . . what are you going to do?”
“Pay child support, I guess. Be involved when I can. But if she thinks that we’re going to be going to the playground together and holding hands while we push Junior on the swing, she’s got another thing coming to her.”
“Is she going to take you to court? For child support?”
I stared at him. “Why would she do that?”
“Sometimes that’s how it happens. Some people want to get everything drawn up legally, so there’s no gray areas. Court can be expensive.”
“I’m aware.”
“My cousin went through something similar. They were married though. Dan, remember him?”
“Not really.”
“Yeah, well. He and his wife got divorced, she tried to get custody of the kids, it was a big fucking mess.”
“Annie and I weren’t married. And will never be married. So that’s one whole can of worms we don’t have to deal with.”
“She’s going to have your kid, though,” Jonathan said. “That’s going to be the tie that binds you guys for the rest of your lives.”
Was I mistaken or was he deriving some sort of enjoyment from this? A little bit of schadenfreude, perhaps?
“Eighteen years,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light even though my stomach was turning as I said it. Eighteen years sounded like a long ass time.
“It’ll be forever,” he said. “Yeah it’s eighteen years until you’re a legal adult, but if there’s grandkids or anything like that—”
“Let’s not even go there,” I said. “Grandkids? Please. This thing is the size of a sesame seed.” Confiding in Jonathan was obviously not the way to go. Not that I was expecting it to make me feel better, but his assertion that this was just going to bind A
nnie and me together forever was, well . . . not helpful, to it mildly. “Anyway,” I said. “Have you finalized the list with Dan about who’s going to be working on the Paradise Breeze?”
“I looked it over; Dan should be giving me a call any minute to go over a couple things. There was a conflicting schedule with Chapman, and Baker said something about not being able to stay the whole time in Nantucket, so we’re trying to figure out if it would make more sense to let him do the first leg of it or just take him off this completely. I know he and Martin have rapport. Oh, and Billy McAllister called and Ghanizadeh is going to be back around at some point next week; they’re not sure when exactly, but they’re going to want three or four more guys down there than normal.”
“Yeah, sure, great,” I said. “He must really like it there at—”
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” I said.
It opened, and Daisy poked her head around. “Jonathan?” she said. “Dan’s on the phone for you.”
“Daisy,” I said. “I thought you left.”
“I did—I forgot my purse. I just came back to get it.”
“I didn’t even hear the phone ring.”
She pressed her lips together. “Well, it did. Just once, though, I was right there at my desk when it rang. I figured I might as well answer it.”