Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

NOVEMBER

ONE WEEK LATER

I feel like such a fool. Last week's events are still a blur of emotions and mistakes, leaving me feeling ashamed and embarrassed. I couldn't believe how I had acted and how he knew just how to deal with me. And now, to top it all off, I still need to tell him about the baby, but I’ve got a plan. I’m going to make him his favorite dinner and tell him using a t-shirt I found at the mall today that says #1 Daddy . The second I saw the stupid twenty-dollar shirt, I started to tear up. I just had to have it. It’s the perfect way to break the news to him. It’s cheesy, but he’s gonna love it.

I know I need to get him in the right state of mind before breaking the news. He was already struggling with so much at work, not to mention his hobby of underground MMA fighting, which no one but me knows he does. I don’t want to add to his burden, but I also know that I can’t keep this from him any longer.

Talking to my sisters has helped. I’m sitting at the kitchen island, stuffing hideous wedding invitations. They are gold and ugly.

The cacophony of sound is actually helping me by drowning out my thoughts. Over the last week, I’ve talked to them more and more. I love them already. We’re fast friends, more than really. Lincoln had a late meeting at the office, so it was the perfect time to talk to them.

“How come you aren’t having a glass of wine?” February asks, which is funny to me since most of my sisters are in various stages of pregnancy, too. January and February just had babies. March and April are both due in December. June, July, and August are due next year. I haven’t heard anything about September or October yet, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. The secret Delacroix girls are super fertile it seems.

“I can’t drink right now; I'm pregnant,” I reply before thinking about what I’m saying. With the gasps and everyone talking so loudly all at once, it’s no wonder I don’t hear the alarm chime as the door opens.

“You want to repeat that?” he demands, his voice deadly and quiet. The front door slams, and the voices on the phone go quiet.

"I’m going to have to call you back,” I say.

“Okay, Call us back,” March says.

“Yeah we are going to need to hear more about that,” April says.

“I will,” I say, hanging up the phone and setting it down on the counter. Taking a deep breath, I approach him, ready to open up and tell him what I’ve been hiding. His expression is guarded, but I can tell he is trying to understand but he heard what I said.

“What did you just say?” he asks again.

He turns away from me, and I move toward him.

This is all my fault; I have to fix it. I have to make him see that I didn’t keep this from him purposefully, not maliciously, anyway.