Page 220 of Redeeming 6

“My mam’s in there?” I glared at the secretary, who I was on a first-name basis with. “Why?”

“Why don’t you go on in there and find out, Joseph,” old Betty shot back, not missing a beat. “You know which door it is.”

Yeah, I did.

Third on the right.

“Good luck, Joe,” Molloy whispered, giving my hand a small squeeze. “Love you.”

“Yeah.” I blew out a breath and held the office door open for her. “Right back at ya, Molloy.”

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Beyond uncomfortable, I sat at one side of the meeting table next to my mother, while Molloy and Trish sat opposite us.

On either end of the table sat Miss Lane, our year head, and Mr. Nyhan, our principal, who were doing a fantastic job of talking at us rather than to us.

It wasn’t like Molloy and I were the ones immediately impacted by the pregnancy or anything. Oh no, it was far more pertinent to address our mothers when making decisions on our futures.

Dicks.

Unable to put any amount of pressure on my back, I leaned forward instead, resting one elbow on the table, while dropping my free hand on my lap.

When our principal asked Mam a question, and she turned to give him her full attention, I took the opportunity to discreetly drop the hand I was resting on my lap into her handbag that was sitting on the floor between our chairs. Barely breathing, I rummaged around inside until my fingers probed the familiar circular pill bottle.

Closing my hand around it, I quickly slipped it into my pocket, feeling a rush of relief fill my body at the prospect of not having to face another night of hell at home.

Zoning out their voices and the unsettling urge I had to escape to the bathroom and pop a few C2s, I concentrated all of my attention on my girlfriend, who was nervously chewing on the nail on her baby finger, while her wide-eyed gaze flicked between the four adults in the room.

“By which time you’ll be how far along in your pregnancy, Aoife?”

Molloy’s guilt-ridden eyes snapped to Mr. Nyhan. “Hmm?”

Immediately my back was up.

She didn’t need to feel guilty about a damn thing.

This was on me.

“How far along in your pregnancy will you be when you sit the leaving cert in June?”

“Oh.” Her cheeks flamed and she roughly cleared her throat before casting a nervous glance in my direction. “What date in June?”

“The seventh.”

“Oh.” Another nervous swallow. “I think I’ll be twenty-five weeks by then?”

“You think?”

“Yeah, uh, well, you see, I don’t know for sure.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“Well, I haven’t had my dating scan yet,” she hurried to explain. “It’s today, actually.”

“Why are you pushing her on this?” I snapped, irritated that he was interrogating her. “She already answered you. Give it a fucking rest, will ya? Jesus.”

“Joey,” Mam snapped, nudging me with her elbow while Molloy gave me a grateful smile.

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