Pretty Little Mistake

When I pull up in front of Lennon’s apartment building, she’s already outside waiting, nervously biting at the side of her thumb.

I roll down the window, sliding my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose. “Why are you pacing?”

She lets out a little scream, evidently startled that it’s me. I chuckle, amused, though I should’ve warned her I was driving us, not just taking the train to Connecticut.

“Why are you in a . . . boat?” She wrinkles her nose at my Tahoe.

“Because it’s my car.”

“This is not a car. This is a whole-ass yacht.”

I cover my mouth with my hand, trying to hide my laugh. “At least it has room for the pet sperm. Are you getting in or not?”

She takes a deep, bracing breath and opens the back passenger door to toss her bag inside.

She then climbs into the front seat beside me with a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to do this.”

I look over my shoulder, waiting for traffic to pass before pulling out. “I know you don’t.”

Perhaps I should be offended that she’s so reluctant to tell her family about the baby, but if anything, I’m angry for her. She’s an adult; we had sex; sometimes babies happen. She shouldn’t feel like she’s headed to the firing squad because of something like this. She didn’t do anything wrong.

“Do your parents know I’m going to be with you?” She fiddles nervously with the hem of her shirt, waiting for my response.

“Yes, I already told you they do.”

Lennon told her parents that she’d be staying with a friend for the holiday. I know they’re not happy about it, but as nervous as she already is, I extended the invite before I even said anything to my mom—I knew she’d be ecstatic—because Lennon shouldn’t have to stay under the roof of people who make her so visibly ill.

We’ll have a Thanksgiving dinner with my parents tonight and with hers tomorrow evening, on the actual holiday.

“Okay, good.” She tucks her hair behind her ears, wiggling restlessly in her seat. “Just wanted to confirm.”

“By the way . . .” Her eyes shoot in my direction at my tone. “I told my mom we’re together.”

“Obviously we’re together. We’re in the same car.”

“No,” I say slowly, fingers flexing against the steering wheel, “I mean I told her we’re a couple.”

“You told your mom we’re dating? Beckham!”

“What?” I keep my tone innocent. “It makes the most sense to say we’re together. We’re having a baby, Lennon.”

“You don’t need to remind me that I’m currently incubating your offspring. Your mom is already planning our wedding. I hope you know that.”

“It’s just one weekend, Lennon.”

She sputters, arms flailing. “No, you idiot, it isn’t only one weekend. This baby makes it life, and you just told your mom we’re a couple.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I think it is. First you wanted everyone at work to think we’re together, and now your parents? I’m starting to think this is some kind of pissing contest, or maybe you really do want to be together.” She gasps, hand slapping to her mouth. I keep my eyes focused on traffic, refusing to let her dramatics thwart my attention. “Oh my God, is that what this is—are you trying to convince everyone we’re together so that we’re so deep in this lie it just makes sense to actually be together?”

“Jesus, Lennon. No. I’m an asshole, but I’m not manipulative.”

“Then please, elaborate on why you told your mom I’m your girlfriend?”

I chew my gum more forcefully than necessary. “Because I knew it would make her happy.”

“You’re . . . you . . . baffling, that’s what you are.” Groaning, she buries her face in her hands. “You do realize your mom talks to mine, right? That means there’s no doubt she didn’t tell her, and now not only have I kept the baby a secret, but a whole relationship too? A relationship that, mind you, isn’t fucking real!” She’s in hysterics now. I did this to myself, but in my defense, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

“I think you’re blowing this out of proportion.”

It’s like an icy wind whips through the car at my statement, and I know I’ve fucked up.

“I know you did not just say that to me.”

“Lennon, it’s a done deal now. What do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know—why don’t you start by telling them you lied?”

“Mmm.” I press my lips together, pretending to think about it. “No, not doing that.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’ll tell them.”

“Think about it. Doesn’t it make the most sense to play it off like we’re together? It’s what they’ll want, and with the baby, they’ll assume it anyway.”

She arches a brow, tapping her lip. “Mmm, you’re not selling me on this, I’m afraid. I might have to tell your mom what a liar you are.” There’s a playful smirk on her lips, so I think she’s kidding.

Wiggling uncomfortably in my seat, I clear my throat and change lanes. “Can’t we just play family for one extended weekend?” I hope I don’t sound like I’m begging, but I’m afraid I might. “Would that be so awful? We might as well try, right? We need the practice.”

She grows quiet, minutes passing as she ponders my question. I don’t dare utter a word while she thinks. I turn the volume up on the radio a smidge.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she says, “You have a point.”

“See?” I point a finger in the air triumphantly. “I have good ideas sometimes.”

“Only sometimes. Don’t let it go to your head.”

I’m already grinning. “I definitely won’t.”

With a sigh, she curls her arm against the window, resting her hand on her fist. “I’m taking a nap.”

“Okay.”

There’s a yowl from the back seat. She sits straight up and peers into the back. “You brought your cat?”

I scoff in offense. “You thought I’d leave Cheddar behind? Never. That’s my cat son.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised, and yet I am.” She seems almost pleased that I brought my cat. When I go on work trips, I have a neighbor who looks after him, but since I’m going to be at my parents’ place, it made the most sense to bring him. “I didn’t even notice the carrier when I put my bag in.”

“I’m full of surprises. I’m not the guy you think I am.” The guy I try to make her think I am.

She curls back up to go to sleep. “That remains to be seen.”

With a sigh, I turn the radio up even louder.

I pull into the circular paved driveway of the stone mansion. It’s the kind of place that’s more castle than home—a display of wealth, not warmth. But I know I lucked out that the two people who adopted me are some of the kindest people out there.

Even if their house is showy as fuck.

The SUV isn’t even in park when the massive front doors swing wide, and my mom runs out with open arms.

Lennon sputters awake, wiping drool from her mouth. After a bathroom break about an hour ago, she went right back to sleep. I wasn’t even going to make any stops since the drive is a relatively short one, but Lennon said the baby demanded she had to pee. I wasn’t about to deny the pregnant lady a bathroom.

My mom stands nearby, clapping excitedly while she waits for us to get out of the car.

“Showtime,” I tell Lennon.

I don’t give her a chance to respond before I get out of the car, then grab Cheddar in his travel carrier from the back. After making my way around to the passenger front, I open the door for Lennon. My mom positively beams.

The look Lennon shoots me isn’t angry, not anymore; she just looks worried.

“We’ll be fine,” I say low enough there’s no chance of being overheard.

Taking a deep breath, she nods before taking my hand to help her out of the vehicle.

“I’m so happy to see you two.”

Lennon gives a small, awkward wave. “It’s so good to see you, Tracy. It’s been way too long.”

“Oh, you have no idea. I had to practically beg this one to come home for the holiday.” She motions to me as if it isn’t already obvious enough I’m the one she’s referring to. “Can I have a hug?”

“Jeez, Mom, what am I? Chopped liver?”

From inside his carrier, Cheddar yowls in agreement.

“You are when you bring home Lennon as your girlfriend. Why didn’t you tell me you two had gotten together? I gave him your number, you know.” Finally, she pulls her into an embrace. Her lips part in surprise and she pulls back, holding Lennon at arm’s length. “Please, don’t take offense—it’s just . . . are you?”

I step up behind Lennon, wrapping my arm around her shoulders. She stiffens for half a second before she sinks against me. “You’re not imagining things, Mom.” The excitement is already building on her face. “Lennon’s pregnant.”

Her mouth forms a perfect O as she jumps up and down. “A baby! I’m going to be a grandma!”

“And there’s more—”

Her eyes widen with excited wonder. “Is it twins?”

Lennon nearly chokes on her own saliva at that preposterous accusation.

“No, not twins,” I tell her. “It’s just that Lennon and I were together already when I had lunch with you that day, so you can’t exactly take credit for this.”

She’s stunned into silence. It’s a miracle. My mother is never lacking for things to say. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

There’s genuine hurt in her voice. I feel like even more of an asshole, since it’s all a lie anyway.

I tilt my head down to Lennon, and she blinks up at me, curious as to how I’m going to explain this one. “It was so new,” I say, staring at her and not my mom. “We made each other promise to keep it secret.”

“My parents don’t know either. About us or the baby,” Lennon hastens to add, panic infusing her voice.

My mom covers her mouth. “Oh, thank God I didn’t let it slip to Deidre. I spoke to her this morning, but I got distracted and didn’t mention it.”

Lennon’s shoulders relax at this development. “We were going to tell all of you in person, but this one”—she pokes my side—“got a little overzealous and told you ahead of schedule. Well, at least about us.”

“That’s my Beckham.” She beams from ear to ear. “He can’t keep secrets from me.”

I grab our things out of the car—weighed down between our bags and all Cheddar’s things—and finally head inside. Meanwhile, my mom chats with Lennon about anything and everything. If Lennon’s bothered by her rambling, she doesn’t show it.

Because the house is so big, it takes a ridiculous amount of time to get to my bedroom. It’s still pretty much the same from when I was a teen—heavy black furniture, gray wallpaper with a subtle design I never was able to pinpoint, and thick carpet that I swear is more cushioned than some mattresses.

My mom follows us up, still talking Lennon’s ear off.

“I’ll leave you two to get settled in for now. Your dad and I will be in the drawing room when you want to find us.”

She eases the door shut behind her. It latches with a soft click.

“The drawing room,” Lennon repeats, shaking her head, with her arms crossed under her breasts. There’s a soft, almost annoyed smile on her lips. “Sometimes I forget how rich our families are, and then I come home.”

I set our bags down on the couch in the corner. Sunlight streams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I don’t.” My back is to her so I can’t see her reaction.

The bed creaks. “You don’t what?”

I turn around to find her sitting on my bed, taking in every detail of my room. There’s not much to see. I never was big on personal items.

“I never forget how much money they have. Sometimes I think you forget that I grew up under very different circumstances than you before I was adopted.”

She looks down at her hands, studying her nails. “I don’t mean to.”

I know she doesn’t. But growing up in the literal lap of luxury as she did, she has trouble relating to other people who didn’t. It’s not her fault for being born into the family she has. I know Lennon has a good heart, but when you grow up in a family so wealthy that a million dollars is spending change, then it’s hard to understand the real world, how bad things can be, that children are beaten and go to bed hungry.

I cross the room to her, then gently encourage her to look up with my finger beneath her chin.

She blinks those big brown eyes at me. I’ve always loved her eyes so much, the dark warmth of them, how easy it is to get lost in their depths. I overheard someone say once that brown was the ugliest eye color. I disagree. I find it to be the most beautiful, downright fascinating in the way the color shifts in different lights. From nearly black to a color that’s almost golden. There’s nothing boring or ugly about brown eyes. Especially not on Lennon.

“I know you don’t mean to, but the fact remains that you were born into an incredible life some people only dream of. I’m not saying it was perfect for you—I’m only beginning to see that, and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner—but you being able to forget that you come from a life with all this?” I swing an arm to encompass my massive bedroom, which I know for a fact is smaller than hers at the Wells mansion. “That’s a privilege you can’t deny.”

She nods, no doubt understanding what I’m saying.

I let my finger fall from her chin, and my hands go to her belly, hidden beneath an oversize sweater. She’s grown so much, and according to her, her belly has popped. Whatever that means.

“Can you believe it?” I murmur, awed.

“That you knocked me up? Definitely not.”

“I don’t want to fuck this kid up.” I hate the vulnerability that rings in my voice, but the words are out there between us, and I can’t take them back now. I’m always assuring her that she’s going to be a great mom, but I’ve never voiced my own fears to her.

“You won’t.” She puts her hand over mine.

My eyes flick up to hers. “How do you know?”

She gives a small, amused smile. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t be worried about it.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Throwing my own words back at me, honeybee?”

Her smile grows. “Always.”

Heaviness hangs between us, the weight of our combined futures.

“We better go find my parents.”

She doesn’t respond right away. “Okay.” She slips off the bed, shocking me when she stands on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek. “This baby is lucky to have you as its daddy.”

I smile to myself, letting her take my hand and pull me from the room.