Page 73 of The Girlfriend Game
“Kendall, are you pregnant?”
I nod my head, dabbing my eyes again with the napkin. “Yes. Just over ten weeks along.”
Logan lifts her hand to cover her mouth, her long blonde lashes blinking in both joy and sympathy. “Zeke doesn’t know? And that’s why you broke it off with him?”
Shaking my head, I place my palm over my barely there bump, only visible to me from the side-view in my mirror when I’m in my underwear.
“It’s the hardest decision I’ve ever had to make, Logan, because it doesn’t just impact me. I’ve wanted a baby for years, but before now, I was either not ready or I wasn’t with the right man. And now I’m ready and I know Zeke isn’t even close to ever wanting a child.”
I turn and stare off over the water, the cool late-October breeze blowing lazily in the warmth of the fall afternoon. I think of the summer months that have passed and only see a glimpse of it on the surface of the lake.
“But Zeke loves you. He’s crazy about you and I think he would make a great father.”
I give her a sad smile. “Maybe, if he wasn’t adamantly opposed to being one. Any time the topic of pregnancy or children came up, he insisted he never wants any of his own. He doesn’t want that responsibility. Or that lifelong commitment. And knowing his position on the subject and his current state of mind, I am not going to subject him to something he’s not ready for or may never want. I can’t do that to us.”
I place a protective hand over my belly as the waiter returns to serve our lunches, trotting off to get Logan some more bread at her request. I snicker at her obsession. She grins with a good-natured shrug.
I take the time to dig into my salmon and peach salad, the best of the Northwest this time of year, and wonder from Logan’s perspective what she would have done if in my shoes.
When I glance up, she’s staring at me with a thoughtful expression. “I’m sure Carver must have shared with you that we have a son together who is being raised by another couple, right?”
The fork stops short of my mouth, and I set it back down on the plate. I do know about this because Carver shared it with me in our therapy sessions a few years back. It was a difficult situation for him to wrap his head around with lingering feelings of resentment that continued to crop up.
“I do,” I admit.
Logan smooths the napkin over her lap with the flip of her wrist, letting it rest there momentarily. “The long and short of the story is that I was young, completely alone, and desperate when I learned I was pregnant. Carver was heading off to his freshman year of college and his father pressured me into giving the baby up and to keep it hidden from Carver. He assured me it was for everyone’s own good and our futures.”
My heart hurts for what a young teenage Logan must have gone through back then. Or what it cost her. Those decisions are never easy for any young mother to make. But my circumstances are very different than Logan’s. I’m not young nor impressionable, and I believe this to be the right plan for me.
As if reading my mind, Logan continues, her voice full of remorse. “It was years later when Carver and I reconnected. Regardless of what I went through at the time, I’d had a chance to move on and put it behind me. Carver, however, had to experience it for the first time without the benefit of nine months to process it or being there to witness our son being born.”
Logan glances off across the water thoughtfully, a sad expression covering her beautiful features. “He was devastated. And so angry. I hated that my decision hurt him in the way it did. As you know, it caused him a great deal of suffering until he finally came to terms with it through counseling.”
“I appreciate you sharing that with me, Logan,” I reply softly, because it takes guts to look yourself in the mirror and admit a mistake. To realize when you made an error in judgment that hurt others in the process. And even more, to forgive yourself. “But respectfully, our situations are different.”
She rips into a piece of her bread and dips it into the clam chowder bowl she ordered, chewing on it while collecting her thoughts. Logan cocks her head to the side and lifts a shoulder.
“Okay, I won’t nag you anymore,” she smiles sweetly. “You’re a smart woman with a wealth of professional expertise. I’m sure you’ve looked at all the possible outcomes and come to the best conclusion for you. Just know I’ll be here for you every step of the way. And I’m so excited to share our pregnancy journeys together.”
“Me too,” I whisper, emotion welling in my throat.
“But I do have one more question.” She lifts her index finger in the air and then wiggles it toward my flat belly. “Hiding your pregnancy now is easy enough to do. What happens when Zeke sees you again and discovers you’re pregnant?”
I drop my chin to my chest and my gaze travels down to where someday the evidence of my pregnancy will be visible. I’ve considered this possibility quite a bit, and aside from hiding away in my home for the next two trimesters, I’ll just do the best I can to avoid seeing Zeke.
My tongue-in-cheek response isn’t the answer, but at least it earns me a laugh.
“I guess I’ll just have to invest in a wardrobe of oversized men’s shirts.”
