Chapter Twenty-Two

Of course, he figured it out.

Will was certain that Jackson knew more than he was telling as the two of them sat at a table at Ted’s a half-hour later. Jackson had called Will once he’d been ordered to get out of the house, and the two had met for a beer.

“The women are at the house,” Jackson said once they were settled in with mugs of beer in front of them. “There’s something going on. It’s ... Kate said it was girl stuff.”

“What kind of girl stuff?” Will wanted to know.

“I don’t know.” But Jackson was avoiding his eyes.

“Baking? Crocheting? Flying kites and talking about feminine hygiene?” Will joked. But Jackson didn’t even crack a smile, so he knew it had to be serious.

“Rose is upset,” Jackson said.

“Wait, Rose? What about?” Will felt a surge of dread, of concern.

“I don’t know,” Jackson said again. “But … she was crying. And the others were trying to calm her down. And … and when I offered her a drink, they all yelled at me.”

“They yelled at you?”

“Yeah. And they told me to leave. Not that it was a burden to get the hell out of there, with all that girl emotion going on.”

“I’ve got to go find out what’s happening.” Will got up from his chair and grabbed his jacket.

“No, man. Don’t. I think … whatever’s going on, they need a little time.”

Will sat back down heavily. He felt worried, and a little bit guilty, even though he couldn’t think of anything he might have done wrong.

“She’s not pissed at you. At least, I don’t think so,” Jackson offered, seeming to read his mind. “I said that I’d kick your ass if they wanted, and they said no.”

“Well, that’s comforting.”

“I guess.”

The bar was half full, about typical for a weekday night. The Rolling Stones were playing over the sound system, a smattering of customers were sitting at the bar, and a couple of guys were arguing over their pool game. It was early, so the place didn’t yet smell like sweat and spilled beer.

“Do you think it has something to do with her mom?”

“No,” Jackson said.

The quick, confident response confirmed to Will that Jackson knew something he wasn’t telling. The guy looked worried, and that wasn’t typical of Jackson, who usually had only two modes: happy and angry.

“What’s going on, Jackson?” Will asked, sitting up straighter in his chair. “If you know what this is about …”

“I don’t know. I’ve got an idea. But if she hasn’t told you yet …”

“Told me what? Jackson? Come out with it.” Will was getting scared now. Scared that Rose really was angry with him, for reasons unknown. Scared that she might break it off with him. Scared that something was wrong with Rose, with her life, something that was causing her pain that he wanted to fix. What if he couldn’t fix it, whatever it was? What if she was in trouble, and he couldn’t help her?

“You called me because you want to tell me. Didn’t you?” Even as he said it, he knew it was true. “Well, I’m here. Tell me.”

Jackson squirmed in his seat, looking like a kid who’d been caught cutting class. He ran a hand through his auburn hair and grimaced.

“Aw, man. I shouldn’t be doing this. If she wanted you to know …”

“Just tell me. If she needs my help, I want to help her. And I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Dude. I think she’s pregnant.”

Will had heard it said before, metaphorically, that someone felt the world dropping out from under them. That phrase had held no meaning for him until this moment. Because right now, it really did feel as though the floor had disappeared, as though he were floating in a vertiginous, spinning freefall that would end—if indeed it did end—in a crushing impact when he finally hit the ground.

“You … I …”

“Yeah. That’s about how I thought you’d react,” Jackson observed.

“Did they tell you that? What … How do you know that?” Will was sputtering, dizzy, unable to focus.

“Instinct, man. Rose was crying, and they were all gathered around, and they freaked out when I suggested maybe she could use a drink. Plus, Kate might have mentioned something about a bad condom a few weeks ago.”

Will was stunned not only by the idea of impending fatherhood, but also by the knowledge that the news of his faulty condom had spread so far and wide.

“But … she said she was on the pill.” But even as he said that, he knew that wasn’t right. That wasn’t what she’d said. He’d asked if she was on the pill or something, and she’d replied, Or something. Which had been classic avoidance of the question. He’d have realized that at the time if he hadn’t been so addled by the stupendous sex.

“Yeah, well, don’t go buying onesies just yet. I don’t know for sure that’s what’s going on, I just have a hunch.”

The mention of onesies made Will clutch at his beer and chug half of it in a single draft. It helped, somewhat. But he was still conscious, so it didn’t help enough.

“What should I … I don’t …” He scrubbed at his face with his hands.

Jackson sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Is this gonna be a deal breaker for you? Are you about to crush her heart? Because if you are …”

“What? No. Of course not. No.” The very thought was appalling. In fact, the first thought that had jumped into his mind, after the blind panic, was marriage. He’d thought about Rose and marriage before, but she wasn’t ready to hear it—nor would he expect her to be after just weeks of dating. But now, if a baby were to force the issue, maybe he could … No. It had been a challenge just getting her to acknowledge that they actually were dating. This would be a jump she wasn’t likely to make.

“Are you sure?” Jackson said, picking up the thread of the conversation. “Better guys than you have been known to run like hell when the little line turns pink.”

“I’m sure.” Will took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m sure. Jackson … I love her.”

Jackson gave Will a half grin. “I was hoping you’d say that, since she’s practically my sister-in-law. If you were going to run, I might have had to kick your ass whether the girls wanted me to or not.”

“Look who’s talking,” Will said. “You used to have at least three clearly marked exit routes ready before the first date.”

“I’ve changed,” he said mildly. “And anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s about you and Rose, and your kid. If there is a kid. I’m pretty sure there is one.”

The phrase your kid made him dizzy again, but he rallied and managed to focus.

“Okay. So, let’s say it’s true. What should I do? I know I want to be with her. But Rose … she’s been on this ‘I’m through with men’ kick, and I was just barely getting her to admit that maybe she’s not. And now …”

Jackson rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “Ah. So, you’re not the one who’s going to freak out and hit the door. She is.”

“Right.”

“Let me think about that a little.”

They both thought about it while they drank their beer and watched the crowd at Ted’s. Will reflected that there had to be a way for him to adapt to this new information, a way to work the situation so that Rose would know she was safe with him and wouldn’t feel the need to shut him out. He just didn’t know what it was.

“Should I go to her?” he said at last. “Tell her I’m in? Let her know I’m not going anywhere? Because I’m not.” Just saying the words gave him a new sense of determination to stick, no matter what.

“I don’t know.” Jackson shook his head, thinking. “Maybe. Maybe not. You know what we need? We need a girl to help us think this through.”

The idea was appealing. If they could get Kate to come down here to Ted’s, she’d probably have a greater sense of what Rose needed—and how Will could best give it to her—than he and Jackson did. But the women were so tight, like sisters, that it seemed likely Kate would then tell everything to Rose. And that could scare her away or make her angry, neither of which Will wanted to do.

Jackson seemed to read his mind. “We could ask Kate what she thinks, but then she’d tell Rose.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed. “And then Rose would feel manipulated.”

“And then God help you,” Jackson added.

But if that wasn’t going to work, then what?

“All right,” Will said after a while. “Let’s break it down to the basics. Do I tell her I know? Or do I wait for her to tell me? If it’s even true.”

“It is,” Jackson said.

Deep in his gut, the place where the truth lived, he knew Jackson was right.

“Okay, so …”

“Okay.” Jackson sat forward, ready to work the problem. “You tell her you know, what’s she most likely to do?”

“Well, she’s not going to start calling me darling and knitting baby booties. I think that’s pretty safe to say.” Will pictured the image of Rose as a motherly June Cleaver, and smiled. “She’s more likely to tell me that she doesn’t need me. Because it’s really important to her to believe that she doesn’t need anyone.”

“But she does need you,” Jackson said.

“I know that. But it’s not about what she really does need. It’s about what she wants to need. And she doesn’t want to need anybody. Because people have always let her down in the past.” He thought about that for a moment, then amended it. “Well, not her friends. But men. And her mother.”

“Okay. So, if you tell her you know, then she can either become a partner with you, or she can become this tough-as-nails, single pregnant woman, toughing it out on her own and taking on the world solo.”

Will gave Jackson a pointed look. “Which one of those sounds like Rose?”

Jackson shook his head. “Dude, you’re screwed.”

“Right. Plan A isn’t going to work. But Plan B … I could just keep quiet. Wait for her to tell me. Wait for her to do what she’s going to do. Meanwhile, I’ll just … I’ll be there for her. I’ll be rock solid. I can do that. And when she sees that …”

Jackson raised his eyebrows. “Could work. Or she could break up with you without saying why, and then you’d still be screwed.”

It was a possibility. Then he thought of another possibility.

“She’s … oh, God. She’s not going to … Is she going to have the baby? Do you … What did Kate say?” The idea that Rose might get an abortion was a sudden, horrifying possibility. If Rose wanted an abortion because she truly didn’t want to have a baby, then that was one thing. But if she was considering abortion because she thought she’d be in this alone … Well. If that was an issue, he’d have to tell her he was in this to stay. And he’d have to tell her today.

“We didn’t get that far,” Jackson told him. “Remember, I’m not even supposed to know. But if I had to guess, I’d say she’s keeping it. They yelled at me when I offered her a drink. All of them, even Rose. Would they have done that if she wasn’t keeping it?”

Probably not. That thought was comforting.

Will decided that there was only one thing to do: He would keep his mouth shut and simply be there. He’d be there when Rose was scared, he’d be there when she was happy. He’d be there if she tried to push him away. He’d just be there. In the wild, when a predator approached a skittish prey animal, it had to move slowly, carefully, to avoid spooking the prey and causing it to run. This was like that, sort of. Except that Will’s goal with Rose wasn’t to attack her; it was simply to love her, and to make her feel safe to accept that love.