Page 26 of FWB

Kenny

I text Max first thing Saturday morning the day after Tiegan’s party asking him to approve immediate paid time off for the coming week due to personal reasons.

I never take my PTO in the middle of the year.

I usually save it for the holidays so I can fly to Massachusetts for a couple weeks to see the family.

Fuck. I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to do about Christmas.

But I need time to process what my life is right now, what it’s going to be very, very soon.

Jazmine is due in less than two months, on Christmas Day. Then my fate will be decided.

I’m either going to be a dad or I’m not.

The one thing I have decided is that if the child is mine, I’m going to fight for her.

I won’t be some deadbeat dad who is never around and only sends child support every month.

Fuck that. This baby doesn’t deserve to come into this; she doesn’t have a choice.

If she’s mine, I’m going to make sure she gets the best life I can possibly give her.

Max texts back immediately, probably already a few Adderalls deep by now, approving my time off request and lets me know he’s around if I need anything.

I send a quick thank you and put my phone away.

At least now I have some time to figure out what the fuck I’m going to do.

Sam has already begun packing up his stuff and moving downstairs to his studio. I can’t thank the universe enough for giving me a friend like him.

My phone dings in my hand, notifying me of an incoming text. Tiegan. Shit. I was so distraught over the news of potentially becoming a father that I completely blew her off all day. And it was her birthday, on top of it all. I open my phone to read her latest message.

Tiegan: Hey, I don’t know if you’re avoiding me for some reason or if you’re really sick, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d at least let me know that you’re okay. Also, don’t forget about the concert in a few days.

I have no idea what to tell her. I can’t tell her the truth, not now. She thinks I’m sick, maybe I can use that to my advantage and buy some more time. I shoot her a quick text.

Kenny: Hey there. Sorry about yesterday. I tested positive for COVID, and came home and crashed. Sorry I missed your party. I hope you had a good time. I’ll be out sick all next week. We’ll talk when I get back to the office. I’m gonna have to miss the show. Sorry.

I toss my phone on the bed, not waiting for a reply.

Hopefully, I won’t get one. I don’t know what to say to her.

She’s so perceptive. She’s going to be able to tell something is up the next time we’re together.

I just have to prolong that reunion for as long as I can until I can come up with an excuse for my aloofness.

I wish I could talk to Sam about this and ask his advice, but I still haven’t told him about her.

With this potential baby news, I don’t think now is the time.

So I’m left to figure this situation out alone.

I can’t avoid Tiegan forever. I don’t want to avoid her.

I don’t want to essentially ban her from my home.

We’ve gotten used to hanging out here when Sam is away.

But I’m terrified that if and when I eventually tell her about my situation, she’s going to bail.

I wouldn’t blame her. She made it clear that she does not want children.

And I made it clear to her that I wasn’t ready for a relationship.

I’m still not, but I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t pictured us together, going to Bruins and Predators games, cuddling on the couch watching bad horror movies because she loves them, and making love every night.

You’re a fool for ever thinking you could have that with her. God, what am I going to do?

As much as I’ve tried to avoid it, I’m starting to get feelings for her.

She is all I seem to think about. Even with Jazmine’s news, I can’t help but wonder how this will affect Tiegan and me.

I know the responsible thing would be to end this thing we have going on now before either of us gets in too deep.

But I’m a selfish bastard. I’m an addict.

And Tiegan is my latest drug. Her presence, her scent, her laugh—it’s intoxicating.

Hopefully I’ll be able to figure out a game plan next week. Otherwise, I’m fucked.