“Who did then? Why didn’t you tell me, Cammy? Why?”
“You like to fix things, help people, and solve the world’s problems. You love everyone and everything, and everyone loves you. AJ Cole would never hand his child off to anyone. I know you well enough to realize that you wouldn’t agree with this and…since it’s out of my hands and I don’t agree with it, I didn’t know how to tell you.” Her words become stronger, and the tears clear from her face as if the sun were peeking through on a dreary day. Has she made her peace with this decision…the decision that was made without me? I’ve never seen this particular expression on her face before.
“The Cammy I know would never give her child up for anything in the world either…she’s our daughter. How is this out of your hands, Cammy?” I whisper angrily, pointing to her stomach. “She’s ours and no one else has the right to make this awful decision for you.”
“My parents—they left me no choice, okay?” she snaps. “We aren’t married. You have no rights. None, AJ.” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This doesn’t even sound like something Cammy would say. It sounds like something she’s been programed to say. She fights for what she believes in and what she wants, and this makes no sense.
“How could you not fight for her—for us? How are you going to be able to live with this after giving our baby away? I sure as hell won’t be able to.” I think I might be snarling at her. I try to tame my anger, but there’s no way to tame what I’m feeling right now. “I don’t want to give her up. I’m not going to consent to this. I’m going to be at the hospital, and they’re going to want her father to sign papers too, Cammy. I know you think I have no rights here, but I do. That little girl is half mine, whether your parents like it or not.” In any other circumstance and on any other subject, the way I’m speaking to her, the way she’s speaking to me, this would be grounds for breaking up. This would be grounds for a nasty high-school breakup. But I love her. I’ve loved her for almost two years and we’ve been forced to grow up faster than I thought possible in the past few months.
She looks up at me, the glossy look in her eyes returning as she sniffles softly. “This isn’t up for debate. The lawyer my parents hired said so.”
“Lawyer?” What the fuck? I should have figured. Mr. and Mrs. Beverly Hills of Connecticut would force her to have an attorney. Her parents seemed understanding, from what I’ve heard. Though, I’ve never actually met them. I was never allowed over at her house since I have been her best-kept secret, aside from the first few months of her pregnancy. I don’t know if she’s trying to protect herself or me, but now I realize I never should have agreed to keep our relationship hidden for so long because she might be right. Any dude could walk into the hospital that day and claim to be the baby’s dad. There’s no proof, other than a DNA test, which I’ll do if they give me the time to prove myself. I don’t know how this shit even works. “I’m at a loss for words, Cammy. God, this isn’t right. This isn’t fair. I’m so angry and I don’t even know what to say,” I hiss through boiling rage.
Cammy stares at me with a hard gaze, like she’s trying to turn herself into stone, but she’s failing miserably. She must have expected this reaction from me. It’s why she waited so long to break the news.
After far too long of watching her stare back at me, I notice a red tinge fill her cheeks. Her hand reaches for her stomach, and she leans back against the driver’s door of her car.
Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion when her eyes close, then clench, her jaw clamps shut and her body folds in half as much as it can, being nine-months pregnant. A groan rumbles through her throat and at the same moment, the redness that had just colored every inch of her fair skin has completely disappeared, leaving her pale and ghostly. I freeze for a minute, in shock, as I begin to suspect what is happening.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask, after taking way too long.
She reaches over and grips my shoulder with her hand, piercing her pink-painted nails into the skin of my forearm. “Take me to the hospital.”
Those five words propel my mind into overdrive, and I try to remember everything I’ve Googled about this. I thought it would be a gradual thing, like slow, over the course of several hours. She’s calm for the moment but I can see nervousness and fear in her eyes. I slip my arm under hers and help her over to my beat-up truck.
My mind empties out as I fly through the familiar streets until we arrive at the hospital. Cammy has kept silent most of the way, other than the three times I heard more groans. Parking the truck in the two-hour parking zone, I race around to her side and help her out. “I have to call my parents,” she utters.