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In my fairy tale, my parents would be ecstatic. My brother would threaten the groom with bodily harm if my soon-to-be-husband ever hurt me. They would laugh it off, hug it out, and then my groom and I would dance the night away before he swept me off into my very own, happily ever after.

In reality, parents turn their backs on their children.

Brothers die.

The happily ever after spent living in a mansion like the one I grew up in turns into a studio apartment in downtown Portland no larger than a shoebox. The disowned princess gets knocked up in a one-night stand and spends the next six weeks puking morning, noon, and night with no relief in sight. My midwife has assured me it will end once I reach the second trimester, but I’m now ten weeks along and more than doubtful.

I’ve had a month now to get used to the idea of pregnant. To weigh the pros and cons of this fiasco I’ve found myself in. I’ve had time to consider all my options and there is only one that brings peace to my soul, while at the same time scaring me half to death.

I’m keeping the baby.

I have to tell the father I’m having his baby.

It’s no longer just the morning sickness causing me to puke.

Butterflies have been swarming inside me, rolling and taking flight ever since I made my decision, but the time has come to let him know.

From everything I know about Braxton firsthand, and from years of Dan occasionally mentioning him, he’s a good guy. A noble guy.

My first impression of Braxton when I walked up to him at Jenna’s wedding ten weeks ago didn’t include any thoughts of good or noble. Nope. My thoughts dove straight to the gutter, and my knees wanted to hit the floor.

The weekend with him had been spectacular, better than any time with a man I’d had yet. Tattooed from his knuckles to his throat with a large piece all over his back and down both sides of his ribs, Braxton was nothing like the country club members I’d been around my whole life.

Tatted and dark and menacing andabsolutely delicious.

Just the memory of Braxton, the way his strong hands tenderly caressed my body, the way he lost control and slammed into me, can heat my body in pleasurable ways. I dream of his groans. I still feel the weight of his body on top of mine. I wake up in the mornings, gasping for breath, reaching for him next to me for another round.

It’s a disaster. I’m still trying to find my footing in Portland after throwing away my family’s expectations of me and going out on my own. I’m struggling to find my place in the art world, working part-time at Gallio’s Galleria while spending the rest of the time working on my own art either outside at the amphitheater when it’s weather permitting, or alone in my apartment.

A baby is the last thing I need thrown into the mix.

It changes all the plans and promises I’ve made.

I’m still keeping it.

I only hope Braxton doesn’t despise me for it. We might have just been a one-night stand but we’re connected through Jenna and Dan and while we haven’t seen each other since the wedding, that doesn’t mean our lives won’t continually cross paths in the future.

I’ve put this off long enough.

Grabbing the notepad where I scratched down his number and address for his tattoo parlor weeks ago when Jenna gave it to me, I slide into a pair of tan ankle boots and toss my purse over my shoulder.

It’s time to face the music.

—

I’m a block away from MadInk, feeling more green due to the sudden movements of the MAX light rail system, on my way to tell the man I barely know I’m having his baby.

I know a few certain things about Braxton Henley. He’s twenty-eight, owns a tattoo parlor in one of the seediest areas of Portland, and he’s been friends with Dan since college. He moved out of Portland to go to college in Seattle, where he also learned the art of tattooing. He’s only recently returned to Portland to open MadInk.

Since Dan travels almost weekly for his job, and I’m busy on the weekends with my own art shows, having only recently moved back to Portland myself, it never worked out for the four of us to get together and meet before Jenna’s wedding.

That’s what I know. He’s busy and drills needles into people’s skin for a living.

Oh, and he fucks like the Energizer Bunny. Actually, he’s better than the batteries that power my own personal go-to device. The man doesn’t stop and knows his way around a woman’s body like he was born to pleasure them. Or, he’s just had a lot of experience.

Which makes me want to vomit.

And did I mention he fosters animals? If he has that big of a heart for animals then he won’t exactly be pissed about the fact he got the maid of honor knocked up, right?