“IT’S GOING TO be okay,” I told her, feeling a mixture of fear and pride that the woman I loved was carrying my child.
“No,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. Maybe we should have it terminated.”
“What? No. No f*****g way,” I told her, horrified that she’d even suggested it. “How can you even say that?”
“I didn’t mean it,” she said, sniffling. “I just wanted to see how you’d respond.”
I groaned. Women and their f*****g mind games.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated again. “I was on the pill. I really was. I mean I tried, you know?”
“It’s going to be okay,” I said, reassuring both of us. “It’s going to work out. We’ll get hitched, you can move in with me, and we’ll take care of the baby together. You’ll quit school and be a fulltime mom.”
“Quit school?!” she shrieked. “I can’t quit school.”
“Okay,
