“Let’s just say I’ve never gotten to the point of seriously considering it,” he said slowly, those dark espresso eyes on her face.
What was he thinking?
“So, do we have a timeline?”
“A what?”
“For a decision. You didn’t say how far along your daughter is.”
“Oh.” That kind. “She’s seven weeks now. So yes. Obviously, an abortion has to happen in the next few weeks.”
“Surely the sooner the better.”
“Yes.” She bent forward, her stomach cramping. How strange. Painful cramps had once been a way of life for her. Menstrual cramps, but stress-related stomach ones, too. Divorce had miraculously cured the second.
“Trevor wanted to know why the decision was Cait’s. Why isn’t it his.” Temper flooded her, but he shook his head. “I told him because it’s her body. That said…I ask that you think about him, too. He’s not ready to be a father.”
She was still sizzling. “I doubt you were, either. You need to stop pushing. I said I’d talk to you, not give you a vote.”
His eyes narrowed. “I seem to remember a promise that you’d listen to me.”
Oh, hell. “I’ve listened.”
“Have you?” He pulled out his wallet and tossed some bills on the table. “Seems to me that mostly you talked and I listened.” Their gazes met. “I’ve left enough to take care of the bill.”
And he walked out on her again.
Which she completely deserved, Molly admitted. What is wrong with me?
Excellent question.
* * *
TREVOR STALKED CAIT the next day. Only way to put it. He told himself she was asking for it.
Even so, she stayed surrounded by friends all day and almost got away after the last bell because she didn’t stop at her locker the way she usually did. She zipped out of class and shot across the commons for the front door like an Indy 500 driver with her foot to the floor. Fortunately, Trev had been careful to take the desk closest to the door himself in his last class, he clock-watched and, since he’d never even pulled out his binder to take notes, was able to launch himself through the door while the bell was still ringing. The two of them reached the double exit doors at almost exactly the same minute. They were the first there although the commons was now flooded with jostling bodies.
“After you,” he said, bowing and opening a door.
“Um…I was going to wait for Jenna.”
“You don’t have dance today.” He had her schedule down.
Her cheeks flushed. “I was going over to the school, anyway.”
Sure she was. “Then I’ll walk you.”
She gave another desperate glance behind him in hopes of spotting a whole crowd of her friends, no doubt, that would provide her with camouflage. Not happening. He had her in the crosshairs now.
“Is talking to me so bad?”
“I know what you want to say.”
“What’s that?”
“You want me to…” Her eyes got super wide at the same time as she shut up.
Wow, good thing. He shouldn’t have pressed her when there were other people around. Trevor took her arm and steered her toward the sidewalk. “Were you really going to dance?”
Her gaze slid his way. “I guess I don’t have to.”
“We can just walk, then. Cut through Terrace Park.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
She looked really hot today. Not that she ever didn’t. Her hair was the prettiest he’d ever seen, especially in the sun. And there was some sun today, the first in close to two weeks. Cait wore jeans, flip-flops that showed off toenails painted bright pink and a formfitting long-sleeved T-shirt. Also hot pink, which gave, like, a pink tint to her reddish-gold hair.
God, he’d had such a thing for her. He was still confused about how it could have gone so cataclysmically bad. Well, the pregnancy part he got; that was his fault. But the rest.
They were all by themselves when she spoke. “Abortion. That’s what you want me to do.”
His heart began to pound hard, as if he was about to go out on the court for a big game. “You can’t really want a baby.”
Her blue-violet eyes flashed at him. “Of course I don’t!”
“Then what’s the deal?” he asked reasonably. He thought.
“The deal is that we made a baby, okay? This isn’t like…like I shoplifted something I can get rid of in a Dumpster so no one ever knows I did it.”
“It’s hardly even some cells yet.” Trevor didn’t actually know. Didn’t want to know. And why would she?
“I think it might be a couple of inches long now,” she said in a small voice.