I feel like I can hardly breathe. “How exactly will it be okay?”
“Look.” He grabs my arm, which is trembling. “It was just one time. I’m not even sure if it came off. I’m sure it will be okay.”
“You’re kidding me. Girls get pregnant all the time from ‘just one time.’”
“All right,” he says with maddening calm. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. “But whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.”
My mouth falls open slightly. I look into his eyes, and I can tell he means it. Shane has plans for the future too. He’s hoping for a football scholarship to college, so he can have a better life than the one he grew up with. Those eight words are capable of destroying all his plans. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you. But he said it anyway.
At that moment, I know I chose the right guy to lose my virginity to.
“I love you,” I blurt out.
He runs his fingers along my cheek. “I love you too.”
Even though I’m still freaking out about it, I force myself to calm down. Shane is right. It was just one time and the chances are small that I got knocked up. And if I somehow did, he will support me. No matter what I decide.
Despite the thunder outside and my racing thoughts, I fall asleep in Shane’s arms. And I don’t wake up again until I hear the screams.
Chapter 22
PRESENT DAY
Josh is in heaven as he chomps on one of Margie’s meatballs while the two of us share dinner at the kitchen table. “Mom,” he says. “These are the best meatballs I’ve ever had.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“You know how Margie made them?” Without waiting for an answer, he answers his own question: “She put in meat, but also eggs, bread crumbs, and also Parmesan cheese. She said Parmesan cheese was the secret ingredient.”
“Yes, they’re delicious.”
Josh takes another bite of the meatball on his fork and chews thoughtfully. “How do you make your meatballs, Mom?”
Well, I open up the package of frozen meatballs, stick a few on a plate, and put them in the microwave for sixty seconds. If they’re not done, I put them in for another thirty seconds. “Pretty much the same way, but without the cheese.”
“Next time you make them,” he says, “I’ll help you. Margie told me exactly what to do.”
It’s nice Margie is so good with him, but it makes me sad that when my mother was alive, she never seemed to bond with Josh. She never would have made meatballs with him. She didn’t even care that much when I cut her off.
The doorbell rings, and Josh leaps out of his seat with surprising energy for a kid who just ate about thirty meatballs. He loves answering the door though. It’s one of his favorite things in the world, if you can believe that. I’m not sure why though, because it’s almost always just some guy delivering a package.
I hear the front door unlocking, followed by the sound of soft conversation. That’s strange. Why is Josh talking to the delivery guy?
Unless it isn’t a delivery guy.
I struggle to my feet, which isn’t easy considering I have eaten about twenty-nine meatballs. （They were really good. Must have been the Parmesan cheese.） I shuffle over to the front door, and my mouth drops open when none other than Tim Reese is standing at the front door, talking to Josh. I freeze about ten feet away from the door, unable to move.
“Mom!” Josh calls out. “Look who’s here! It’s Mr. Reese—he’s our assistant principal!”