college, or would he have to get a job to support Grace and her kid? His mind spun out of control as he started adding up the cost of diapers and formula and rent. For a second he hated being a guy, because being the guy meant he had all of the responsibility (except for carrying the thing for nine months and pushing it out and taking care of it), and none of the rights.
“I did. They’re not speaking to me.” Just thinking about that made the tears well up and Grace wondered if she would ever be able to stop crying, or whether the baby had turned her into a blubbering mass of blubber.
“I bet. Fuck.” Although he was furious with Grace for not telling him first, letting him have some say in what came next, Nick felt a little bit sorry for her. The Warrens’s numerous high-profile good works had made them minor celebrities in Silver Lake, and Grace’s little foray to the dark side in the back of his Jeep was likely an unforgivable crime. Based on his limited knowledge of them, it wouldn’t surprise Nick if they never spoke to their daughter again. That last night with Grace, the night they had apparently made a baby, Grace’s main worry had been getting home before curfew, because she didn’t want to get in trouble with her parents. “What about me? Did you tell them I was the father?” Not that he was scared — no one was going to force him to do anything — but it would be nice to know if Grace’s dad was going to show up at his house with a shotgun and a marriage license. And what would Nick’s parents have to say about this? If he had to give up his scholarship, his parents would likely cut him off as well. He could hardly comprehend how a perfect day could fall apart so fast.
“I told them I was pregnant, they said some mean, horrible things to me, and now they’re giving me the silent treatment. That’s pretty much it. My mom knows it was you, but I don’t think she cares — it’s the fact that I did it at all. I’m the one who’s related to her, and I’m the one who’s going to have the evidence under my shirt for the world to see. I’ve humiliated her and my dad. Apparently that’s an unpardonable sin.” As miserable as she was, Grace felt slightly better talking it out with Nick. Not that he was saying anything kind or comforting, but as her accomplice, he had to have some empathy, even though he was doing a good job of hiding any feeling at all. How she wished she’d seen this side of him before her panties came off.
“So why didn’t you just have an abortion and leave them out of it? They didn’t need to know what happened. You should have come to me right away, and we could have taken care of everything ourselves. What did you think was going to happen when you told your fucking parents?”
“I don’t know,” Grace said quietly. She didn’t want to admit that she’d stupidly thought that telling her parents would make it better.
“Now that you’ve dragged the moral majority into this shit show, my future’s about to drive off a cliff, and for no good reason. It could’ve been a dented fender, and now it’s going to be a fucking ten-car pileup,” Nick seethed.
“That’s what Jennifer said, but how could I keep it from them? They would figure it out. Besides, I thought you were on the other side of the Atlantic, and I don’t have five hundred dollars for an abortion.” Grace was already regretting her decision to own up to her sin to Betsy and Brad. Jennifer had vigorously advised against it, and now Nick was raking her over the coals.
“They wouldn’t have figured it out if you’d gotten rid of it right away.” Calling the baby, or fetus, or whatever it was,
it
, felt wrong somehow, but it was much easier to distance himself from an ‘it’ than from the soft, round, blue-eyed baby that ‘it’ would become in a matter of months. “Fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself. “So your friend Jennifer knows. You haven’t told anyone else, have you? You
“I did. They’re not speaking to me.” Just thinking about that made the tears well up and Grace wondered if she would ever be able to stop crying, or whether the baby had turned her into a blubbering mass of blubber.
“I bet. Fuck.” Although he was furious with Grace for not telling him first, letting him have some say in what came next, Nick felt a little bit sorry for her. The Warrens’s numerous high-profile good works had made them minor celebrities in Silver Lake, and Grace’s little foray to the dark side in the back of his Jeep was likely an unforgivable crime. Based on his limited knowledge of them, it wouldn’t surprise Nick if they never spoke to their daughter again. That last night with Grace, the night they had apparently made a baby, Grace’s main worry had been getting home before curfew, because she didn’t want to get in trouble with her parents. “What about me? Did you tell them I was the father?” Not that he was scared — no one was going to force him to do anything — but it would be nice to know if Grace’s dad was going to show up at his house with a shotgun and a marriage license. And what would Nick’s parents have to say about this? If he had to give up his scholarship, his parents would likely cut him off as well. He could hardly comprehend how a perfect day could fall apart so fast.
“I told them I was pregnant, they said some mean, horrible things to me, and now they’re giving me the silent treatment. That’s pretty much it. My mom knows it was you, but I don’t think she cares — it’s the fact that I did it at all. I’m the one who’s related to her, and I’m the one who’s going to have the evidence under my shirt for the world to see. I’ve humiliated her and my dad. Apparently that’s an unpardonable sin.” As miserable as she was, Grace felt slightly better talking it out with Nick. Not that he was saying anything kind or comforting, but as her accomplice, he had to have some empathy, even though he was doing a good job of hiding any feeling at all. How she wished she’d seen this side of him before her panties came off.
“So why didn’t you just have an abortion and leave them out of it? They didn’t need to know what happened. You should have come to me right away, and we could have taken care of everything ourselves. What did you think was going to happen when you told your fucking parents?”
“I don’t know,” Grace said quietly. She didn’t want to admit that she’d stupidly thought that telling her parents would make it better.
“Now that you’ve dragged the moral majority into this shit show, my future’s about to drive off a cliff, and for no good reason. It could’ve been a dented fender, and now it’s going to be a fucking ten-car pileup,” Nick seethed.
“That’s what Jennifer said, but how could I keep it from them? They would figure it out. Besides, I thought you were on the other side of the Atlantic, and I don’t have five hundred dollars for an abortion.” Grace was already regretting her decision to own up to her sin to Betsy and Brad. Jennifer had vigorously advised against it, and now Nick was raking her over the coals.
“They wouldn’t have figured it out if you’d gotten rid of it right away.” Calling the baby, or fetus, or whatever it was,
it
, felt wrong somehow, but it was much easier to distance himself from an ‘it’ than from the soft, round, blue-eyed baby that ‘it’ would become in a matter of months. “Fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself. “So your friend Jennifer knows. You haven’t told anyone else, have you? You
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