Page 15

Evan

M ia is much easier to look after than a potted plant, mostly because not only is she able to communicate her needs, she’s also sixteen-years-old and perfectly capable of feeding herself and taking herself off to the bathroom and such. So, unsurprisingly, Tuesday night goes by without any drama at all.

When I’m tucked away in Jay’s guest room (because it was easier than trying to explain crashing in Jay’s bed), I do regret that the sheets here smell like clean linen and not my boyfriend, and that I can’t even call him or text him for phone sex because he’s sharing a room with his colleague.

His colleague who he came out to.

I’m surprised that he did, but also thrilled, too. Not that I thought I was going to remain his dirty little secret, but I’m champing at the bit to tell everyone how happy I am with him. How happy and stupidly in love I am with him.

He’s taken the first brave step by telling his colleague and work friend, and he’s opened the door for me to do the same. And he said that we can tell Mia and our parents, which makes it all feel so much more serious and real, but in all the best ways.

I really wish he wasn’t sharing a room with his colleague right now, because just thinking about him being so confident in our relationship has me getting a little hot under the collar.

I want to call him. To hear his sexy voice. To whisper all my filthy thoughts down the phone line and listen to him pant and swear as we both jerk ourselves off.

My cock swells at the very idea of it.

I tug myself loose from my pj pants and, after spitting in my palm, I stroke my dick to full hardness. Then, in a moment of genius, I grab my phone and snap a dick pic. Then, without any hesitation, I send it to him.

Me

He’s missing you.

The bubbles of his reply appear almost immediately, followed by a barrage of quick-fire texts.

Jay

Jesus, Ev. WTF?

I’m in an Uber with Andi.

I can’t get a boner in an Uber, Ev.

I chuckle and consider how I should respond.

Me

Why not? Don’t think Andi would approve?

Jay

She’s already hit on me once today. I don’t need her getting the wrong idea.

Wait…what?!

My fingers fly over my phone’s keyboard.

Me

What do you mean she’s hit on you today?

Like, seriously hit on you?

I can see the ellipsis bubbles for his reply as I rapidly fire my questions at him.

Me

While you’re practically sleeping in the same bed??

Jay

This was before she knew I was in a relationship.

His responses come back as quickly as my questions.

Jay

I was oblivious.

She was mortified.

And we’re sharing a room with separate beds.

While I’m still contemplating that, he sends another message. It stills my racing heart, soothing some of the panic.

Jay

Please tell me you’re not actually freaking out right now. You’ve never been a jealous wanker before.

I reread the message and chuckle, feeling mildly sheepish. He’s right. I’m acting like a real tosser.

When I message him again, it’s with complete honesty.

Me

I’ve never been in love before.

James’ bubbles appear and disappear before his final message comes through.

Jay

I’ve only ever been in love with you, Ev.

***

I’m still riding the high from James’ sweet message by the time Thursday morning rolls around. We’ve texted on and off for the couple of nights that he’s been gone, but I can’t wait to hold him in my arms and kiss him within an inch of his life. So sue me if that sounds sappy: he started it.

Around ten a.m., my office is evacuated due to an issue with the security system, and I opt to head back to Jay’s place to finish my day’s work there. There’s no point going to my sad, dated, cramped apartment at the back of Burleigh when his bright, airy house in Palm Beach is just waiting for me, after all. Not when this is where I told Jay I’d meet him tonight, after his flight gets in from Sydney at stupid late o’clock.

I’m setting myself up at the kitchen bench, logging into my VPN on my laptop, when a sound filters in from the direction of the bedrooms.

James doesn’t have pets. He doesn’t even have plants anymore (not after the disaster of my last attempt at house sitting).

I lean back on my bar stool and listen intently.

It’s a strange sort of sound. Muffled and distorted, but something like a…howl, maybe?

Worried that I might have left the laundry door open and an animal of some kind has gotten inside, I climb off my stool to investigate.

James will kill me if some neighbourhood cat has pissed on his carpet.

The closer I get to the hallway leading to the bedrooms, the louder the sound seems. I hesitate, trying to determine where it’s coming from, and I determine that it’s coming from Mia’s room at the far end of the hallway.

Great. I can’t imagine a sixteen-year-old girl is going to enjoy having to deal with whatever mess a stray creature trapped in her room has made.

Hoping that it is only a cat or something easy to deal with, I take a fortifying breath and swing Mia’s bedroom door open…and then I freeze.

It’s not an animal. It’s Mia.

What the actual fuck?

Her pretty face red and blotchy, eyes swollen from crying, she hiccups mid-sob, just as startled to see me as I am to see her.

“W-what are you doing here?” she demands in a raspy, gravelly voice.

“ Me?! ” I sound equally as incredulous as I stare back at her. “What are you doing home?”

I dropped her off at school as usual at eight on the dot. I waved her off and watched her saunter up the manicured, winding path surrounded by hedges of some fancy-pants plant just as I’ve done countless times since Jay and I started our fake-but-actually-real relationship.

Then, coming to the conclusion that she’s obviously playing hooky, I pat down my pockets, looking for my phone. Surely the school would have noticed and would have called Jay at the very least.

“I…um…I called the office and pretended I was Dad. Told them I was sick.” Her lips lift at the corners. “They bought my acting.” Her expression falls and then she starts sobbing again.

I have no idea what to do right now.

“Your impressions must be getting better,” I acknowledge, before realising that I am, for all intents and purposes, her stepdad and if James was here, he’d be having kittens over her actions. “But, uh, not good, Mimi.”

Yeah…my ‘stern parent’ voice needs work.

Her lower lip quivers. “Don’t tell Dad. Please. I—” She sniffles and chokes on another sob. “He’s going to hate me as it is.”

“ Whoa .” I’m shaking my head and stepping further into the room on instinct, sitting down beside her on her bed and wrapping my arm around her shoulders as I add, “Jay could never — would never — hate you, Mia. Never. Not even if you killed someone.” I suck in a breath. “Please tell me you haven’t killed anyone, though.”

“No.” The word comes out sounding both pouty and amused, but it’s drowned by another garbled wail. She turns in my embrace and buries her face in the crook of my neck and mumbles words that I’m sure I misinterpret.

Heart racing and arms tightening on reflex, I ask, “Can you repeat that?”

Mia inhales shakily, then says exactly what I was afraid she would. “I might be pregnant.” Then she breaks down, bawling loudly, and my brain struggles to come back online.

Okay , I think to myself, this is slightly worse than what happened with the potted plant.

Not that I’m responsible for…for…well, y’know.

Jesus, I’m thirty-five-year-old. I can say the ‘p’ word.

I just don’t want to.

Because Mia is only sixteen. She’s a baby herself. She’s Jay’s baby.

“Shh,” I soothe, rubbing her back and rocking her a bit like when she was little. “It’s going to be okay, Mimi, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that!” she wails.

“Yeah, I can. Because, no matter what, your dad loves you. I love you. And, hey, he was only two years older than you are now when he had to have this conversation with your grandparents and oh, God, that puts this into a whole different context…”

I actually feel a little bit sick thinking about it.

Jay was so young. He must have been so scared, just like Mia is now. Scared, stressed, unsure…

“H-he’s going to be so m-mad.”

I squeeze her a bit tighter. “He’s not.” At least, he won’t let it show. “But, sweetheart, you…you said might . Do you know for sure? Like, have you taken a test, or…?”

Finally pulling back, she shakes her head and bites her lip. “I’m too embarrassed to buy one. What if…what if someone sees me?”

My heart goes out to her. She sounds so impossibly young right now.

Nodding, I say, “Okay. I’ll go buy a couple. Best to cover our bases, right?” Then I lick my lips anxiously and ask, “Can I ask why you think you might be…?”

“My period is late. A-and my boobs are tender.” Oh, God, I don’t need to think about my goddaughter’s boobs. “And I had gastro last month.”

I frown. “You think that was morning sickness?”

“No.” She sighs, then eyes me warily. “Did you know that vomiting and…other gastro symptoms…can impact the effectiveness of the Pill?”

“Nope. I did not know that.”

“Well, it can. So can taking antibiotics.”

I nod at that. I’m pretty sure that’s how Mia came to be. Or, at least, that was what James said her mum’s doctor had told them.

“Okay,” I exhale, my heart hammering. “Okay. Well, I’ll, uh, I’ll head off to Woolies. Or the chemist. Uh, do you think the ones from the chemist would be better?” I pull out my phone and Google the question, feeling so very out of my depth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Mia shrug. “They’re all the same brands, right? But…maybe get a couple of different brands?”

“Yeah,” I swallow. “Yeah, okay. Good plan.”

I look back down at my phone and bite my lip. Should I call James? He’d get on an earlier flight home for an emergency like this. Except getting here earlier isn’t going to change whatever the test results say, is it? And he’d just stress for the entire flight and taxi ride back home.

Deciding not to involve him until we at least have test results, I slide the device back into my pocket. Then I press my lips to the top of Mia’s blonde head, reassuring her, “It’ll be okay. No matter what, sweetheart, I promise.”

***

The tests are inconclusive. I bought three in three different brands which all alluded to being some kind of early-response test, and Mia scurried into the bathroom with them as soon as I handed the bag over.

She was pale and shaking when she came back out, frowning at them in her trembling hands.

The digital one reads ‘Negative’. One of the older-fashioned ‘two line’ tests hasn’t even come up with the control line, making it null and void, but the third has what looks like —from certain angles, anyway— a very faint second line.

Fuck.

Mia’s big, blue eyes are wide and wet as she looks up at me. “What do I do?”

Heart thumping madly, I take the tests, drop them into a ziplocked bag, and tell her I’ll take her to her usual GP. When I call the clinic, the receptionist must hear the anxiety in my voice, because an appointment opens up miraculously for us.

Despite my nerves, I get us to the clinic in one piece. We’re distracted on our walk through the busy car park, though, and I have to yank Mia back to my side when some guy in an SUV zooms past us in his haste to find a spot. Distractedly, I give him the finger and shout after his car for him to slow the hell down. He almost hit us! People around here always drive like they’re the only ones on the road, even in parking lots like this one.

I don’t usually lose my temper, but I was already shaken. Still, I should know better to keep my wits about me, especially when I’m supposed to be keeping my Goddaughter safe.

With my heart hammering from the close call, I’m even more anxious by the time I get Mia into the clinic, and she refuses to let go of my hand when her doctor calls her name.

I get an arched eyebrow from the woman as I take the spare seat in her office, her gaze flicking down to where Mia’s hand is holding on to mine for dear life.

“Hi,” I greet with an awkward smile. Doctor Miranda Rogers is about my age, with dark hair and a sharp, intense aura about her. She has pronounced cheekbones and a long, thin nose. She’s very attractive, and also incredibly intimidating right now. “I’m Evan.”

“And you’re here with Mia because…?”

“He’s my godfather.”

“I’m engaged to her dad.”

Mia and I answer at the same time, and Mia gives me a questioning look for a moment before turning back to her doctor, adding, “Dad’s in Sydney for work.”

At least Doctor Rogers seems a little more relaxed by my presence now. She nods, then offers Mia a softer expression. “So, what brings you here today?”

Mia squeezes my hand tightly and pulls the plastic bag of tests from her cross-body handbag. “I took these earlier and I still don’t know…”

Great . Neither of us can say it out loud, apparently.

Without a hint of judgment, the doctor takes the tests and examines them through the bag. She sets the bag down on her desk and then turns back to Mia. “Alright, well, a blood test is going to be the most effective way to determine whether you’re pregnant or not. But, first, let’s run through the reasons why you think you might be, okay?”

Mia nods. I feel like an intruder as she answers the questions, which are pretty standard. When was her last period, did she miss any pills, has she had any symptoms, when did she have sex, and: “Did you use a condom?”

I close my eyes and try very hard not to react when Mia winces and shakes her head.

That , I think, James will be pissed about .

He’ll probably also go apeshit over her having sex at all, but to not use a condom? Ignoring the risk of pregnancy, what about the risk of STIs?

“I know ,” Mia says, and it takes me a second to realise that she’s talking to me. I glance at her to find her looking at her feet, scuffing the toes of her school shoes over the speckled linoleum floor. “I know how dumb that was. But…but he didn’t have any and I really liked him and—”

“I remember being sixteen,” I surprise myself with how calm I sound, even if my voice is a little strangled. “I did some stupid shit, too. You know it wasn’t the best choice; I’m not going to yell at you for it. That won’t change anything.”

Your dad, on the other hand…

Mia launches over the armrests of our respective chairs, hugging me as she starts to cry all over again, and I catch the doctor’s eye over her shoulder. The look on the woman’s face is one of approval, and I find that oddly reassuring.

This step-parenting thing is way harder than I thought it would be.