One to Tell the Grandkids (4 page)

Taryn stopped short in front of the door, taking her friend by the shoulders. “You said you’d be good.”

“I’ve got some tact.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Though I still say we should rile them up a bit. Let them believe we’re together.”

“Maybe my family are assholes about some things, but they wouldn’t actually care if I brought home a girlfriend.” Her smile fell. They wouldn’t care about the gender of any potential significant other, but getting pregnant without a significant other at all would be a different story.

“You don’t have to tell them yet,” Mel said as Taryn unlocked the door.

“Yeah, I’m not planning on it, but things aren’t exactly going my way lately.” She pushed the door open.

Her father found them first. He smiled when he saw her and pulled her into a hug. “Hey, Taryn. Long time no see, girl.”

Taryn clung to her father for a few seconds before she let go. “Sorry. Been a little crazy, you know?” She stepped back from him. “You remember Melanie, right?”

Her father’s smile was quite a bit tighter for her friend. “Of course.” He offered his hand. “Melanie. So nice to see you.”

Mel’s grin was wide, and she took his hand, shaking it with a little too much enthusiasm. “Likewise, Lucas.”

Taryn resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her parents didn’t like her friends. Then again, there wasn’t much about Taryn her parents liked.

“Mike and his family are here, too,” her father said.

Nodding, Taryn moved farther into the house.

Her mother, Faye, was sitting with her sister-in-law, Pauline, at the kitchen table chatting. Mike and Pauline’s six-month-old daughter, Bailey, was sleeping nestled in her bouncer.

Taryn spared a cheek kiss for both adults and drew her fingers down the baby’s soft hair, a lump growing in her throat. She had to swallow several times, horrified for a moment the emotion was going to overwhelm her. “I’m going to say hi to Mike and Dill.” She hurried outside before her mother could draw her into conversation.

Mike was in the wide backyard with Dillon, his five-year-old son. “Hey, kid. Hello, Melanie,” he said in greeting. “How are you?”

“Eh.” Taryn sat on the step trying to be the picture of nonchalance.

“You know Tare,” Mel said. “She’s boring. No surprises there.”

Taryn narrowed her eyes at her friend, but if he noticed anything strange, Mike didn’t say so. Instead, he shrugged. “I think boring can be mistaken for steadiness, and there’s nothing wrong with a steady life.”

“Look, Aunt Taryn.” Dillon ran up to her, taking her by the hand and trying to drag her to her feet. “Grandma and Grandpa bought me and Bailey a play set. Only Bailey can’t play on it ‘til she’s bigger.”

“Looks like fun, Dill Pickle.” She got to her feet only to have to sit back down when a wave of vertigo hit. “Whoa.”

“Taryn?” Mike took a step toward her, but she held her hand out in a stopping motion.

“I’m fine. I just got up too fast.”

“Wanna help?” Dillon asked, missing the shift in the atmosphere.

“Nah. I’m good.” Taryn rubbed her temples. “I think I’m just going to chill out here and watch you do all the work.”

Mike gave her a once over before he returned to his work. “Are you sure you’re okay, kid?”

“It was nothing.”

“You look pale.”

She could see it took some work to keep his voice steady. His eyes were wary and just the slightest bit scared. She knew where this was going, and she had to stop it quickly before it got out of hand. “I’m—”

“Who looks pale?”

Too late.

Taryn’s heart plummeted to her shoes. The worry on her mother’s face wasn’t hidden at all. Faye’s eyes swept over Dillon and Mike first before she looked on Taryn. She put down the bowl of potato salad she’d been carrying and cupped Taryn’s face between her hands. “Oh, honey. You don’t look well at all. What is it?”

Taryn batted her mother’s hands away. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I’ve just been a little under the weather lately, that’s all.”

She regretted those words as she said them. In other families, those words meant exactly what they were supposed to. In other families, maybe her mother might have fetched her something warm to drink, and that would have been the end of it. This family wasn’t so blasé about illness, no matter how innocent.

“How’s your appetite? Have you been eating right?” her mother asked.

“I’ve been eating fine.”

“How long have you felt like this?”

“Not long. I’m fine. I promise.”

“What other symptoms do you—”

“Can you calm down, please?”

“Calm down about what?” Her father had joined them outside. His arms were crossed, his expression stern. “What’s going on?”

“Taryn’s sick,” her mother said.

“She almost fainted,” Mike added.

“I didn’t almost faint. I stood up too fast and got dizzy. I’m fine.”

Like her mother, Lucas’s face lost a bit of color. He took a step forward, his hand out. “What’s wrong? Have you seen a doctor? What did the doctor say?”

Taryn took a few steps back as her family crowded her. By then even Dillon looked worried. “I haven’t been to the doctor. I’m fine.”

“Even if you think it’s nothing, you know you should—”

“I’m not sick.” Taryn stomped her foot, frustrated. “I’m pregnant.”

As though to prove her point, a wave of nausea hit Taryn with the strength of a tsunami. She bolted with her hand clapped over her mouth, only making it as far as the kitchen sink. She heard footsteps behind her and tensed until she heard Mel’s sardonic chuckle. “The best laid plans and all that,” her friend said, helping Taryn hold her hair back as she wretched.

Taryn said nothing. She laid her head on the cool countertop and closed her eyes until the room stopped spinning. Mel tapped her hand and helped wrap her fingers around a cold glass of water. “Thanks.” She rinsed out her mouth with her first gulp before drinking down the rest of it.

Mel looped their arms together. “It’s not too late to tell them we eloped.”

“What would be the point of that?”

“I don’t know. I just felt like adding to the drama. I’m a joiner.”

“Sickness doesn’t go over well here. Whenever Dillon gets a cold, it’s a national emergency, poor guy.”

“I guess I can understand that.”

Taryn took another few breaths testing to ensure the nausea had passed. “Okay. Time to face the music.”

Outside, the family had returned to a more normal state. Her father was at the grill with the chicken and steaks. Mike and Dillon were back at the play set. Her mother, Pauline, and baby Bailey, awake now, were at the picnic table.

When she stepped out into the backyard, all eyes were on her. Grumbling under her breath, Taryn went to sit down opposite her mother and Pauline. Melanie sat beside her and held her hand.

Her mother was the one to break the ice. “Well, you didn’t have to scare us half to death.”

“Sorry, Mom. I wasn’t planning to tell you yet.”

“Why not?”

Taryn shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re not supposed to say anything before the second trimester, right?”

“That doesn’t apply to your mother. How far along?”

“Not that far.”

“Have you seen a doctor?”

“Not yet.”

“That’s important, Taryn,” Mike said. “You need to—”

“I’m not an idiot. I’ll go.”

Her mother paused, and from the look on her face, Taryn had a feeling she knew what was coming. “I wasn’t aware you were seeing someone.”

And there it was.

“I’m not.”

“What does that mean?”

Mike spoke for her. “It means she probably doesn’t know who the dad is. How typical.”

Taryn chafed. “I know who he is. I’m not a prostitute.”

“Whatsa prostitute?” Dill asked, watching the proceedings with wide eyes.

“I think we should go wash up,” Pauline said. She shifted her daughter to one arm and grabbed her son by his hand. “Come on.”

“But, Mom, whatsa prostitute?”

“Thank you for that.” Mike’s look and tone were scathing.

“What the heck is your problem? Typical? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means none of us should be surprised you’d be so irresponsible. That’s about standard for you.”

“Wow, don’t be such a prick,” Mel said. “You didn’t even give the girl a chance to speak. What if she’s carrying a baby for a friend, huh?”

Everyone’s eyes were back on Taryn. “Is that what you’re doing?

Taryn didn’t miss the hope in her mother’s voice. “No.”

“The point is it could have been,” Mel said.

“Melanie is right,” Lucas said, his voice firm. “Michael, there’s no reason to be nasty to your sister.” He looked to Taryn. “Why don’t you tell us what’s going on.”

“Look, it was my fault,” Mel said before Taryn could get her thoughts in order. “I was the one who dragged her out to LA, and I was the one who pushed her to drink.”

Taryn winced. Mel was trying to be helpful, but that was the worst thing she could have said.

“You’re drinking again?” The disappointment was thick in her father’s tone.

“No. I’m not drinking. I drank. Once. And yes, I went home with a random guy, and I got pregnant.” She glared at her brother. “Are you satisfied? Does that make you happy?”

“You want me to be happy that you’re going to be responsible for an innocent life? And who knows what the father is like.
Do
you know who the father is?”

“Yes, I know. Of course I know. His name is Slate. He happens to be a nice guy.”

“Oh, yeah. I bet he’s a prince.”

“Michael William,” their father said in a warning tone. “That’s enough. We need to take it down a notch. Regardless of how you feel, your sister is in a delicate condition, and you shouldn’t yell at her.”

Her mother took a shuddering breath before she spoke. “So the father knows, then?”

Taryn fought back a grimace. “Yes.”

“What does he have to say about everything?”

“He said he wanted to be involved.”

“Well, that’s good, right?”

“How do you know it’s good?” Mike asked, crossing his arms. “What do you know about this asshole?”

“He’s not an asshole, first of all,” Taryn said. She sighed, knowing this wasn’t going to go over well. “He’s a tattoo artist.”

Sure enough, her parents balked. “Do you have a tattoo?”

Taryn almost laughed. Trust her mother to be more upset at the idea of her having a tattoo than her getting pregnant by a total stranger. “I don’t have a tattoo.”

Beside her, Mel rubbed her back, and Taryn felt comforted. Taking a deep breath, she calmed down enough to tell the whole story, editing where she needed to. They had questions, and she didn’t have many answers.

“You told him two weeks ago, but it doesn’t sound like you know much about him,” her father said.

“We haven’t had a chance to talk about everything.”

“You don’t even know how old he is.”

“She’s lying for him,” Michael said. “She doesn’t want us to know he doesn’t want to take responsibility.”

“That’s not it. Slate’s trying his hardest. He calls me at least once a day, but I don’t pick up the phone.”

“Why on earth not?” her mother asked.

“Because I’m pissed.” Taryn’s voice rose as the bitterness poured out. “Because my breasts ache, and I hate throwing up. Because strong smells make me swoon, and I work around strong smells.”

Mike huffed. “If you’re blaming him for you being pregnant, you should have—”

“Oh my God. If you finish that sentence, I am going to deck you for her,” Mel said.

“You really aren’t helping, Mike,” their mother said. She reached out to pat Taryn’s arm. “The first trimester is usually the worst. Except for maybe the third trimester when everything is swollen and you’re ready never to be pregnant again.”

Taryn wanted to hug her mother for her tiny slice of acceptance.

Mike stood, and Taryn recognized his stance from her teenage years. He was about to do his I’m-done-with-you walk-off. “I’m going to go see if Paul is ready to eat.”

When he was gone, Taryn lingered only a minute longer before she stood, too. “Look, guys. I feel crappy anyway. I think I’m going to take off.” She bit the inside of her cheek. She was always on the verge of tears lately, and it was more annoying than usual today. “I’ll let you non-fuckups have a peaceful meal.”

Her father and mother both started to protest, but Taryn waved them off.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m pregnant, remember? I’m just emotional.” She stooped, kissed her mother on the cheek, hugged her father, and got the hell out of Dodge with Mel right on her heels.

“I’m not pushing you, but why aren’t you calling Slate back?” Mel asked when they were safe at Taryn’s apartment. “The real reason.”