When I woke up the next morning, the sun filtered through the blinds and sliced across my face like a stubborn reminder that life had indeed shifted beneath my feet the previous day. I blinked against the brightness and let out a groan with my arm flinging over my face like I could somehow hide from reality.
I was going to be a father.
The words came again to me and echoed like some kind of surreal mantra, looping again and again in my head with no regard for my sanity. A part of me expected to wake up and realize that yesterday had been some hormone-fueled hallucination. But no…Sophia’s words had been real. Her belly, rounded and undeniable beneath that oversized shirt, had been real. And so had the way she had touched me as she spoke about her past.
“You’re going to be a father, Alex
