Baby Daddy

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎

By noon, I can't hold it back anymore. I feel the urge to say something grow more and more.

Randall makes it his life mission to ask if I'm fine every now and then while my mother lurks on the streets not so far away as my father makes his rounds at the church.

I feel my heart drop into the pits of my stomach whenever my mother's head pops into the shop with different foods and fruits said to help with morning sickness.

"Thanks," is what I manage to say. And this is supposed to be her day off.

At one point, I excuse myself to the store room and blink back tears, wiping some with the back of my hand.

I crouch over the shelves, hand on my stomach as I cry. I wonder whether a little prayer will make a difference, but denial gets the best of me and I push the thought aside.

After all, there is nothing to pray about. I'm okay.

I am okay.

I head back to the front, smiling from cheek to cheek and I'm grateful for every distraction I get.

The day goes by painfully slow. Almost like a punishment.

Teagan, one of my mother's employees, leaves work when the sun sets. She slings her bag over her shoulder, plugs in her earphones and walks out, leaving Randall and I alone.

Today I'd seen a side of Randall I didn't even believe was there. He's caring and sympathetic. . .when he wants to.

Like this morning -when I lied to my parents straight through my teeth.

Ah fuck my life.

I stand still in the middle of my mother's store, broom in hand, dust and dirt lined up right in front of it and tilt my head back.

My eyes close and I take deep breaths, trying to block out Randall's annoying whistling.

I believe in miracles.

"Me too"

"What?" I look at Randall, arching an eyebrow.

He stands up right, pulls his hands out of their shelter and narrows his eyes as he talks.

"You said something," he points out. "You said you believe in miracles."

Oh, that.

Me too, he said. I almost smile piecing everything together, but I hold myself back as my heart clenches against my chest.

I should pray. It will make a difference.

"But you're an atheist." I say sweeping around the store.

"It doesn't mean, I don't believe in miracles." He shrugs, a lock of hair slipping out of position.

Immediately I want to brush it back into place and feel it against my hand.

My breath hitches as the thought crosses my mind and I grip the broom and finish up with the chore, I promised Teagan I would complete, without another word.

It's almost eight o'clock when we start locking up the place. A cold breeze sweeps around the street, along with the rustling trees and I rub my arms, shivering.

The streets lights make it less frightening as a few people are scattered around the road. They are most likely heading for the bar down the road.

"I think I got it now." Randall says standing upright and analysing his work.

My wide eyes barely linger when I see Logan a few metres away with a woman by his side.

Oh shit.

Randall's face suddenly comes into sight, blocking my view. I throw every sane thought out the window and do the unthinkable.