Southern Storm (Southern 3)

“I wasn’t with anyone else,” I say, looking down. “He was my first. He was my only.” God, I can’t believe I confessed that last part. He didn’t have to know that, but since I’m already telling him my deepest, darkest secret, I might as well tell him the rest. The minute I say the words, I see the look on his face and the questions that are forming. I’ve been on dates, but they have never even gotten past first base. I tried, but the reality was, none of them were Beau.

“You don’t have to.” He looks at me, and I avoid his eyes.

“After he said that, I knew that I was going to be in this alone. I just …” I put my hand to my stomach the same way I did eight years ago. “I went over it in my head for a week. I even went so far as to tell my mother.”

“Oh, good God,” Beau says and rolls his eyes. He isn’t wrong.

“Yeah, that’s a story for another day. Needless to say, she told me that I would ruin my life by having a baby.” I have to get up now to say the rest of my story, the nerves running through me, but the minute I stand, the room spins, and I fall back onto the couch.

“No more whiskey,” I say, and he smiles at me for the first time since he’s gotten here. But I can’t sit, so I try to get up again, and this time, I get my balance right.

“I scheduled an appointment and went to the doctor. I sat in that waiting room.” I close my eyes, and I’m back in the bleak room with white walls and the blue plastic chairs. No pictures even hung on the wall. It was the most depressing room I’ve ever been in, and you have to think that there is no way it would ever be a happy place anyway. “I sat in the waiting room by myself, and I just kept telling myself that this was the only choice. It was the only choice.” I wipe the tear off my face, but another follows right after. “They called my name, and I got up, but something just …” I shake my head. “I couldn’t do it. I just, he was the size of a pea, but I already loved him more than anything in the world.”

I walk over to the fireplace and look at the picture sitting on the mantel. It’s the first picture they took of Ethan when they placed him on my chest. I will never forget that feeling. It was an all-consuming love, a love I could never put into words. “That night was prom.” My finger traces Ethan in the picture. I turn to look at him, and he sits there, looking like he wants to jump up and grab me, but he knows I have to get this out. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who to go to.” I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I’m lying. I wanted to come to you.” I’m going to blame the whiskey for that slip. His mouth opens, but I don’t give him a chance to say anything. “I wanted to run straight to you but …” I shake my head. “I just couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to see the look of disgust on your face.”

He jumps up now, and before I even know what is happening, his hands are on my arms. “I would never ever do that to you,” he says, his voice high, and he moves his face closer to me. He pulls me to his chest, and for the first time ever, I sob while someone holds me. For the first time, I have someone holding me up, and I am not standing by myself.

“I’m so sorry, Savannah.” I wrap my arms around his waist. “It’s over,” he tells me with one hand holding my head.

Standing here in the middle of the living room, he holds me as I cry. This man who has been by my side since I can remember, this man who loves with his whole heart, this man who I would do anything for. “I’m sorry that I ruined your big night,” I say into his soaked shirt. My ear rests on his chest, and I listen to his heart beating. “I never wanted you to find out like that.” He just rubs my back. Neither of us says anything when his phone rings in his pocket. He ignores it, but then it rings again, and I step out of his arms.

“You should get that,” I say and try to smile. “You’re the mayor now.”

He shakes his head and takes the phone out of his back pocket. “Fuck that,” he says, declining the call. He looks at me. “It’s my father.”