Wrong (17 page)

"But why?" I'm confused. "Why was she ever, Luke?"

He sighs and rubs a hand across his face. "We have a history, Sophie. I felt like I owed it to her to help, but I don't anymore." He looks at me. "Is that enough?"

I don't know, but I'm tired, so honestly, I give up on this fight or whatever it is and go to bed.

L
uke insists
on driving me to and from class for the rest of the week. I fear for the future population of Philadelphia with the amount of work he must be missing.

On Sunday I wake up in Luke's bed, same as the rest of the week. It's nice being here. Showering in Luke's giant walk-in shower every morning instead of the questionable dorm showers doesn't suck, that's for sure.

I'm alone in bed this morning, which isn't unusual. Luke hits the gym before I'm awake most days. I stretch under the covers. The mattress quality at Luke's is a world away from dorm life too.

I'm still not sure what I'm doing here. Have I moved in? It would be nice to be asked. Is it permanent?

I stare at the view of Philadelphia from the bed while I think.

Luke's been weird all week. It's sweet, actually. I think he's worried about me, but I'm fine. I don't have any lasting effects from the concussion and my ankle is okay.

He hasn't touched me all week, sexually. Maybe I should initiate? Let him know I'm fine? I've never had to initiate before though, not really. I mean hell, usually smiling can be perceived as an invitation with Luke.

"You're awake," Luke says from the bedroom doorway.

I didn't hear him come in. He's got a towel thrown over his shoulder, his hair tousled from his workout.

"Come back to bed." I pat the bed with my hand.

He walks to the bed and, bracing his weight on his hands, leans in and kisses me. "I'm sweaty. Take a shower with me and we'll go out for breakfast."

Dammit, does he not want to have sex with me? Breakfast sounds like a great idea though. "I want waffles."

"I know you do," he says, pulling the covers off of me.

"And an omelet."

He extends a hand to pull me from the bed.

"Bacon too," I add. "I want all the food, actually."

"We'll order four breakfasts and pretend people are joining us."

"Are you teasing me?" I'm detecting a smirk on his face.

"Never. We'll go to the buffet at Lacroix. They have all the food, I promise."

A buffet? Hell, yes. I bounce out of bed and dash past Luke for the shower.

Luke is ready before me, as he insists I cannot leave the house with wet hair. I'm dressed and sitting on top of the bathroom vanity, hair dryer in hand while Luke stands in the bathroom door fastening his watch to his wrist.

"Almost dry," I tell him. "Can you bring me my purse, please?"

He nods and retrieves it from the floor of my closet and sets it on the counter. I click off the dryer, satisfied the moisture level of my hair will pass inspection, and dig through my purse. I brush some bronzer across my face and apply mascara before coating my lips in pumpkin spice lip balm. Then I pop out today's birth control pill from the packet and pop it into my mouth while filling a glass of water.

"What are you doing, Sophie?" Luke is suddenly beside me, digging into my purse.

"Relax, I'm ready." I didn't take that long. He has no appreciation for how fast I am.

"With these, Sophie," he says, holding up my birth control pills. "What are you doing with these?" He looks pissed.

I stare at the pack in his hand. I haven't missed any, I take them every morning. "I always take them in the morning, Luke, same time every day." I shrug. "Well, within an hour or two."

He stares at me for a second before tossing the pills onto the counter. The pack whips across the surface before hitting the wall and ricocheting into the sink. He turns around and walks to the bathroom door, gripping the door frame for a second before turning back to face me.

"Sophie, you're pregnant."

T
here's dead silence then
. I feel a moment of absolute nothing before my mind starts racing at warp speed. We stare at each other, Luke watching my reaction, my face giving away a myriad of feelings all at once.

"What?"

He doesn't respond, just keeps watching me.

"I'm not." I shake my head. "I take my pills every day. Every single day. I haven't been on any antibiotics." I shake my head again. "No, no, I'm not, Luke."

He looks sad as he leans against the bathroom doorway. "We did a blood test before taking a CT scan of your head while you were in the hospital. And we confirmed it with an ultrasound."

"You've known this for a week?" I'm feeling semi-hysterical right now and I'm sure I sound it.

"I thought you must know," he says slowly, "and I wanted to give you the chance to tell me yourself."

I grab my purse and push past him in the doorway on my way to my closet. I grab a bag and start tossing things into it randomly.

"What are you doing, Sophie?" Luke is blocking the door to the closet, watching me.

"I'm leaving," I tell him. I'm trying so hard not to cry, tears are threatening to fall and I blink my eyes trying to stop them. "I'm going home, where I'm not pregnant." God, that doesn't even make sense. I sling the bag over my shoulder and turn to face him in the doorway, but I can't meet his eyes. I have to get out of here before I lose it. "Please move, Luke," I say, staring at his chest.

There's a pause and then he steps back and I bolt past him.

"Sophie," he calls out after me, but I don't stop and the front door slams behind me as I flee.

I'm not pregnant. He doesn't know everything. I need to pee on a stick. I am not pregnant. These thoughts bounce around my head as I take the elevator to the lobby and refuse the town car the doorman tries to place me in. I take off down 18th Street. There's a CVS around the corner on Chestnut. I hustle down the sidewalk, intent on getting a pregnancy test.

I walk around CVS in a daze. Where are the pregnancy tests? I've never needed one before. I find them in the feminine care aisle, tampons and pregnancy tests all in one spot. Seems ironic since you only need one or the other.

Okay, pregnancy tests. I scan the row. Why are there choices? Will one choice make me less pregnant? Don't they all do the same thing? I feel panicky, I need to get out of here, but which test do I choose? I take three of them and walk to the checkout.

The cashier scans them and asks if I want a bag. Why wouldn't I want a bag? Am I supposed to take them into the back room and pee on them here? I stare at her name tag. Holly. Maybe I'm pregnant with a girl and we'll name her Holly. Holly Miller. I lose the battle with the tears then and they streak down my face. I don't want a baby named Holly.

"So I'll just put these in a bag then," the cashier says as I swipe my card. "With your receipt," she adds, as if asking me if I would like the receipt in the bag will push me over the edge. I'm clearly not capable of answering the tough questions right now.

I grab the bag and walk down Chestnut in the direction of campus. I have no idea what I'm doing. There's a Dunkin' Donuts ahead on my right and I push the door open and walk in.

I stand staring at the menu board until someone behind me asks if I'm in line. I shake my head and tell them to go ahead, then skip the line altogether and lock myself into the bathroom. I open all the boxes and skip the directions. Pee on the stick, wait. Look for a plus sign or double lines, got it. I finish and shove them all into one box and then into my purse and exit the bathroom.

I stare at the menu board again. I should have a donut. That's the normal thing to do while waiting for a pregnancy test, right? Has it been three minutes? The pregnancy tests are in my bag, waiting, while I look at donuts. Cream-filled? Jelly? Oh, look, they have heart-shaped donuts for Valentine's Day.

What kind of idiot has to be told they're pregnant by their boyfriend? I keep picturing Luke's face as I order two jelly-filled donuts and one of the heart-shaped ones with pink frosting. I add an orange juice. The smell of the coffee is almost ruining my desire for the donuts.

I probably can't have coffee anymore anyway. Stupid baby. I slide the orange juice in my coat pocket and continue walking down Chestnut while I shove a jelly donut in my mouth.

I walk and walk and walk. I reach the Schuylkill and realize I can cross the bridge on foot. Might as well just walk all the way home. Luke's penthouse condo is ridiculously close to my dorm room really. Forty-five minutes on foot, tops, less than fifteen by car. But we're worlds apart, aren't we?

He looked so disappointed when he said I was pregnant. Oh, God. I want to throw up, and not because of hormones. How many times did he lecture me about birth control? I think back to the very beginning, in the clinic when I was his patient. Using condoms just because I threw up a couple of times when I was hungover, the birth control refills that were handed to me.

I've become my mother, but worse. My father didn't care he was being used to father children he had no interest in. Luke cares.

I dump the empty orange juice bottle into a trash can and yank open my purse and dump the pregnancy tests as well. I don't need them. It's not like Luke of all people doesn't know what he's doing. My denial is quickly fading, replaced by anger. This is not what I had planned.

I turn right onto Spruce and see Luke leaning against his big stupid SUV in front of Jacobsen Hall. We make eye contact briefly as I approach and he nods but doesn't attempt to talk to me. I cannot believe he knocked me up. Jerk.

I push open the door of my dorm room and walk in on Jean and Jonathan having sex. Can this day get any worse? I should count my blessings at this point, at least there were no toys involved this time. I slump against the wall across from our door and slide down to the floor in a heap. I have one donut left, the heart-shaped one covered in pink frosting. There are heart-shaped sprinkles on top too, I notice as I shove it in my mouth.

The door opens and Jonathan appears with Jean right behind him.

"Sophie, what are you doing here?" Jean asks, concern on her face.

"Eating a donut." I hold up the remaining half as evidence.

They look at each other for a moment and then Jonathan helps me off the floor while Jean holds the door open. Once I'm on my feet Jonathan takes off and I flop across my old bed.

"What's going on, Sophie? I thought you were staying with Luke?"

"I'm"—I sigh—"pregnant."

"Oh." Jean looks surprised. "Oh, wow." She's quiet for a moment. "Luke didn't take it well?"

"He's the one who told me."

"He knew before you did?" she asks incredulously.

"I'm an idiot," I reply, blowing hair off my face.

"No, Sophie, no, you're not. What's going on?"

I fill her in and she listens patiently. She rubs my back while I cry and lets me talk and vent all afternoon. All week really. And she lends me clothing, since Luke moved all of my things into his house.

Luke calls, and I send him to voicemail. I'm not ready to talk to him. I'm not ready for any of this.

"
H
oly shit
. Pregnant?" Everly looks horrified. She's staring at my stomach like she suspects baby cooties are airborne.

"It's not contagious, Everly."

"I know that," she responds unconvincingly while running a hand across her flat stomach. She hops up on the back counter and stares at me while swinging her feet. "Have you told Luke? How'd he take it? Are you gonna HEA?"

"Are we going to what?"

Everly rolls her eyes at me. "HEA. Are you going to get married, have the baby and live happily ever after?"

"I don't know." I shake my head.

"Well, how did he react when you told him? He's really old, he might want a kid," she offers.

"He told me, actually."

Everly stops swinging her legs. "How? Were you playing some kinky pregnancy test game? Please say yes," she pleads.

"Uh, no." I point to my head. "Concussion? Hospital? Remember?"

"Oh, right," she says, deflating.

"Enough about me. What's new with Professor Camden?"

Everly freezes for a brief second then shrugs. "Nothing. And if you think I'm done talking about the chicken nugget in your uterus, you're mistaken."

I ignore her and move to assist a customer.

"So, what's your plan?" Everly asks when I'm done.

"It's been three days, Everly, I'm supposed to have a plan?"

Everly looks at me like I'm crazy. "Yeah, you're Sophie. You probably had a plan within three hours."

I slump against the counter. "I had planned to graduate without a pregnancy, so maybe planning isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Everly just waves her hand for me to continue.

"I think I can afford a one-bedroom in a decent area as long as I find a full-time position by graduation."

"You can afford a three-bedroom and a pony with the amount of child support Luke will be paying."

"No." I shake my head. "No, I don't want his money. I'm not my mother." The back of my eyes burn and I will myself not to cry.

Everly hops off the counter and hugs me. "I know, bitch. I know," she says, rubbing my back. Only Everly can call me a bitch at a moment like this and make it comforting. "Sophie, you're the most conscientious person I know. No one will think you got pregnant on purpose."

I spot a shiny new Land Rover parking out front as I pull away from Everly. I can't believe he's stopping in for his Tuesday morning coffee run like nothing has happened. I duck into the back and leave Everly to deal with him, busying myself unpacking a shipment of paper cups.

I don't stop until Everly appears, leaning against the door jamb. "You're so stupid," she says in way of greeting.

"I know," I agree, slumping.

"No, dumbass, about Luke." She points her thumb in the direction of the street. "He traded in a sports car for an SUV."

"Everly, I don't want his money. He can buy three cars for all I care."

"I cannot believe you're the smart one," she mutters. "First of all, that's a luxury Land Rover, not a car. And secondly, it's a
Land Rover
, Sophie—that's the equivalent to a minivan for Luke. Jesus, he probably has a baby name site bookmarked on his laptop. You two are gross," she finishes and walks back into the shop.

I chew on my bottom lip while I think about what Everly is saying.

"He asked about you," she calls out as she walks away.

T
he next two
days pass in a blur. I attend class, study and send out resumes. Boyd leaves me several messages about meeting to talk, but my energy level is so low all I've managed to do is text him back. Being an incubator is exhausting.

I'm confused. Everly and Jean haven't been with Luke these last few months. They haven't heard the reminders about taking my pill at the same time every day, the refills being handed to me. The inquiries about my period. I don't think Luke wants a baby. At least not this second, or maybe just not with me.

I'm back at Grind Me on Thursday working when I look up to find Boyd across the counter from me.

“Hey, Boyd,” I greet him.

“You’ve been ignoring my calls, little sister.” He smiles as he says it.
“I’m sorry.” I pause. “I’ve had a lot going on.”

“Yeah. I remember college life. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do than return family phone calls.”

“I wish it were that simple.” I groan.

Boyd frowns. “Listen,” he says, tapping an envelope I’m only now noticing on the counter. “I have to leave town for a bit for work, and I wanted to take care of this before I left. Can you take a break? Or we can meet after your shift?”

We sit in a corner booth and Boyd slides the envelope across to me.

“What is this?” I ask, holding it between my fingertips.

“Your inheritance.”

“What?” I drop the envelope on the table in alarm.

“Your inheritance,” he repeats. “From our father.”

“That’s yours, Boyd.” I shake my head. “I don’t want it.”

Boyd shakes his head at me and runs a hand over his jaw. “He meant for you to have that, Sophie.”

I barely refrain from snorting. “He never even bothered to meet me.”

“I talked to my mom,” Boyd says. “She knew.”

I slump in the booth. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse. I’d hoped she was oblivious to the fact that her husband cheated on her. But why did I wish that? So I didn’t have to feel guilty on my mother’s behalf? How stupid.

“I’m sorry, Sophie.”

Wait, what? “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

Boyd laughs. “Why?”

“My mom had no business messing around with your dad. He was married.”

Boyd tilts his head and gazes at me for a minute. “Is that what you’ve been carrying around in your head these last few months? Sophie, we have nothing to do with anything that happened over twenty years ago between our parents. And if either of us should feel guilty for our parents’ actions, it’s me, not you. Your mom was barely an adult, yet as far as I can tell, she’s the only one who responded like an adult to a bad situation.”

“What do you mean?” I’ve never really looked at my mom that way before.

“My mom knew about the affair, Sophie. And she lived in fear, not of losing our dad, but of having her sham of a marriage exposed. She didn’t want to end up on the covers of the newspapers as yet another scorned political wife.”

“Can’t say I blame her, Boyd.”

He ignores me and continues. “When she learned your mom was pregnant she threatened to cut off our father’s campaign funding if he didn’t end it with her. Discreetly. Our father had a decent net worth by the time he passed,” he says, nodding to the envelope, “but my mother’s family has the real money. The kind of money you need to win a campaign.”

“So he chose his political career,” I fill in.

Boyd nods. “But I dug around some more. He never meant to write you out completely. Not financially at least. You”—he nods to the envelope—“were supposed to receive that when you turned eighteen.”

I center the envelope on the table in front of me. “Why didn’t I?” I ask, looking up at Boyd.

“My mother,” he answers with a grimace. “She had it buried. She knew with our father’s death that no one else knew about you. She didn’t count on a paper trail that would come back to haunt her.”

I blow the air out of my lungs. “I’m a mess, Boyd. I’m pregnant,” I blurt out and continue in a rush. “I’m pregnant. I’m just like my mother. I’m repeating the cycle! I’m gonna have a baby just like me. And half this baby’s family will pretend it doesn’t exist.”

Boyd leans back in the booth and tilts his head. “Are you pregnant with a married senatorial candidate’s baby?”

“No. Don’t be ridiculous. Luke’s the only affair I’ve had. The baby is Luke’s.”

“Luke’s married?”

“No!”

Boyd shakes his head. “Do we need to have a come-to-Jesus moment, little sister? How are you anything like our father and your mother?” Boyd asks, leaning his elbows on the table top.

“Because it wasn’t planned, Boyd. Luke doesn’t want a baby. And his family hates me.”

“Is that what Luke said?” Boyd scowls. “Is that what he said when you told him?”

“Well, no. He knew before I did.” Boyd’s eyebrows rise at this. “And technically he’s the one who told me.”

“And then he offered to set up a trust fund for the baby’s eighteenth birthday and kicked you out?”

“No! Then I left before he had the chance.”

“Oh.”

“I just, I feel like a burden. He didn’t ask for this.”

“Neither did you, Sophie. But you got in this together and you haven’t even given him the courtesy of discussing it like the adults you both are.”

Hmm. He has a point.

“You don’t need Luke, Sophie. If he’s not interested in participating in this baby’s life, you’ve got plenty of options in that envelope right in front of you, and you’re graduating in a couple of months. You don’t need anyone to take care of you. And no one is running you off except for you. Talk to Luke.”