Unexpectedly Expecting || BWWM

The nausea hadn't gone away in weeks, and now I was starting to feel bloated and lethargic all the time. Zyla's endless nagging finally won—I went to the doctor trying to convince my self I wasn't pregnant.

At first, the visit felt routine: the nurse took my temperature, checked my vitals, and asked questions. 

Then came the question that shifted the air in the room.

"Is there any chance you might be pregnant?"

I laughed bitterly. "No way. I'm on the pill."

"Have you been taking it every day?"

I froze.

No. I hadn't.

Suddenly, my palms were clammy as I waited for the results of the urine test. Memories of all the mornings I forgot my little pill flooded in like a crashing wave. My legs felt like jelly, and my stomach twisted tighter with every second.

The doctor came back with a bright smile. My heart dropped. Was that a smile of relief or one of congratulations?

"Good news! Your test came back positive."

"Huh?" My brain refused to process his words.

"You're pregnant."

 "No, no, no. That's impossible. I told you I'm on the pill," I argued, my voice laced with disbelief.  

"While the pill is effective, it's not foolproof—especially if doses are missed." He spoke gently, but I was too stunned to respond. 

 Pregnant? The rest of the appointment blurred. 

The doctor gave me pamphlets, referred me to an obstetrician, and offered kind words that bounced off my mental shield. By the time I was back in my car, the world felt heavy, distant. Pregnant. The word echoed in my head, taunting me. 

My mind raced. How was I going to tell my mom? Zyla? And then there was him. 

 The man. 

 My stomach churned as I realized I didn't even remember his name. Duke? Dave? No... Bean? Why did I keep thinking of "Bean"?

 My phone buzzed, pulling me out of my spiraling thoughts. Jeffrey's name flashed on the screen. 

 "Hey, Jeffrey," I answered, trying to keep my voice steady. 

 "Hey, sweetheart. Sorry to bother you on your day off, but I've got a big delivery coming in. Could you swing by and sign for it? Cara needs to leave soon." 

 I sighed. "Sure. I'll be there in 15." 

 Work was the distraction I needed. ---When I arrived, the delivery truck was already parked outside. I rushed in to relieve Cara, who bolted out with her usual shy smile.

 I signed for the boxes, grateful for the mindless task of unpacking books and scanning them into inventory. The bell chimed, and Jeffrey walked in, looking as calm and collected as always. But there was a tired edge to his eyes.

 "Thanks for coming in," he said, leaning against the counter. "My son... well, let's just say he needed my attention today." 

 "That son of yours seems like a handful," I teased, trying to hide my own turmoil. 

 Jeffrey chuckled. "Oh, he is. Love him to death, but I'm always worried he'll show up one day with some girl and say, 'Surprise, you're going to be a grandpa!'" 

 The comment struck a nerve. My face heated, and I stared at the computer screen as if it held the secrets to life itself. 

 "Hey," Jeffrey's voice softened, "you alright, kid?" 

 I opened my mouth to brush it off but stopped. Jeffrey was one of the few people who wouldn't judge me, and I needed to talk to someone. 

 "I'm fine," I lied, but it came out shaky. Jeffrey's eyes narrowed, his fatherly concern sharpening.  

"You're not fine," he said, pulling a stool to sit across from me. "Come on, spit it out." 

 I hesitated. Then, in a small voice, I said, "I'm pregnant." 

 Jeffrey blinked, his face momentarily blank. Then his lips curved into a wide smile. "Well, congratulations!" 

 "I'm not sure it's good news," I mumbled, looking down at my hands. 

 His smile faltered, replaced with understanding. "Talk to me." 

 I hesitated, then spilled everything—the weeks of nausea, forgetting the pill, and worst of all, not even knowing how to find the father. 

 "He was... a one-night stand," I admitted, cringing. "I was drunk. I don't even remember his name. I think it was Duke or something. All I can remember is this stupid word—Bean."

 Jeffrey raised an eyebrow but didn't laugh or judge. "Did you tell your sister?" 

 "Not yet. I don't even know how to begin telling her—or my mom. And how am I supposed to find him?" 

 Jeffrey nodded thoughtfully, then gave me a small, encouraging smile. "You'll figure it out. You're stronger than you think, Ivory. And listen, no matter what you decide, I'm here for you. You don't have to do this alone." 

 Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back. Jeffrey's support felt like a lifeline in an otherwise stormy sea. 

 "I sent my location to Zyla that night," I blurted suddenly, remembering. "I don't know which apartment was his, but I remember the building." 

 "There you go!" Jeffrey said, his smile returning. "Start there. You might be surprised. Maybe he'll want to be part of this." 

 "Or maybe he's some rich bachelor who wants nothing to do with a baby," I muttered. 

 "That's his loss, then," Jeffrey said firmly. "But you deserve answers. And if you decide to tell him, I'll back you up every step of the way." 

 The bell chimed as a customer approached the counter, and Jeffrey stepped aside to let me ring them up. Once the store was quiet again, he patted my shoulder. 

 "Go home and get some rest, kid," he said. "You've had a hell of a day. I'll handle the rest of these books." 

 "Thanks, Jeffrey," I said, my voice thick with gratitude. 

 As I left, his words stayed with me. Maybe I wasn't ready to face the man or the world, but knowing I had someone in my corner made the path ahead a little less daunting. 

 Later, as I drove home, Jeffrey's words stuck with me. Maybe I should tell him. Maybe he'd care. But as I parked and sat in the silence of my car, doubt crept in like an uninvited guest.

What if he didn't care? What if he laughed in my face? Or worse, what if he was a deadbeat who only brought chaos into my child's life?

I pictured his fancy apartment, the smell of expensive cologne, and the way he carried himself—charming, confident, detached. Men like that didn't usually want messy, complicated responsibilities.

I shook my head, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

Maybe it was better not to find him.

Did I want to risk opening that door only to have it slammed in my face? Or worse, what if he pretended to care, only to vanish later?

No, I thought firmly. My child deserved stability, not uncertainty.

Jeffrey's words echoed in my mind: You're stronger than you think.

This baby was mine, and I'd figure it out—on my own.