Bound

Kate

Chapter 1

Dec. 2012 -- Kate

Sex When You're Expecting: Is it Safe?

I rolled my eyes and sighed at the headline in the waiting room's Modern Pregnancy magazine.

Hmm. One less thing to worry about. When the guy you've been dating for a couple weeks knocks you up, then freaks out and disappears when you tell him, abstinence becomes an easy choice.

"Did you take your vitamin?" My mom Lynn looked over, her forehead crinkled.

"Took it this morning, like always," I said, my voice tinged with annoyance. "I'm 22, and I'm going to have a kid of my own in ... 22 weeks and five days."

Mom smiled and reached for my hand. "I hope they get a clear view on the sono today. I can't stand not knowing if I'm having a granddaughter or a grandson."

"I think I changed my mind on that," I said. "It might be more fun to not find out."

Mom's mouth fell open and her eyes bulged. "Really?"

"No, I'm kidding. Of course we're finding out!"

A middle-aged couple sat across from us in the waiting room chairs. The man rubbed his palm in rhythmic circles over the Buddha belly of the woman while she smiled happily. His silver Rolex glistened as he bent closer to say something to the gestating baby.

My bump was much smaller, and I pressed my own palm to it protectively.

Sorry, kid. No doting father for you, I'm afraid.

Quinn Barlow had seemed like a good guy. Back in August, he let me buy the last used copy of a Sociology book in the college bookstore right out of his hand. Sure, I'd flirted for it. I needed it; new textbooks cost a mint. Besides, he was totally flirtworthy -- tall and lean, with dark blond curls and sexy reading glasses. When I thanked him for letting me have the book, he asked me out for coffee.

Wham-Bam. One thing led to another – more than once – and though I'd been on the pill since high school, here I was in an OB's office, waiting for my 18-week sonogram.

A tall, round Christmas tree in the corner of the doctor's waiting room was adorned with rattles and ribbon-trimmed baby photos secured by large diaper pins. I smiled just thinking that next Christmas, my baby's face might be on this tree.

I hadn't planned on being a single mom at age 22, but over the past three months I'd gotten over my initial flat-out panic. I'd be graduating right after the baby was born, and I'd have to make it work.

The shrill wail of a baby caught my attention. "Shh," the mom cooed, rocking her bundled infant from side to side.

There was no way I'd be able to do that. I'd just have a kid who cried constantly, unless Mom knew how to do that rocking stuff. Shit, that lady looked exhausted. Hopefully I'd get through finals before this baby came.

"Kate?" A young nurse with wild red curls propped the door open. Mom jumped up before I could, her face glowing with excitement. She was rolling with this remarkably well. Better than me, actually.

And Quinn. I still remembered the bulge of his eyes and the desperation in his tone during his hour-and-a-half tirade over how irresponsible I was and how unprepared he was for fatherhood. Not one word of concern for me.

Mom crawled into bed beside me the night I was a bawling, snotty mess over Quinn. She didn't say much, just smoothed back my hair and wiped away my tears.