Page 63 of Good For Me

“Ah. The boyfriend who threatened to beat up my cousin Will at the tattoo shop.”

Her expression turns sheepish. “Sorry about that.”

I wave her apology away. “I’m sure he’ll be crazy about me once he gets to know me. The River Ransome charm works on dudes, too, you know.”

She rolls her eyes. “What about you? Your sister knows.”

“Rose is the only one I’ve told.”

“Is that a secret she can keep?”

I fiddle with an abandoned straw wrapper. “Rose can keep a secret. The rest of the family though…this is going to be major gossip fodder for them.”

She watches me for a minute. “I think you want to tell them about as much as I want to tell my uncle and the Geriatric Gossip Club.”

I blink at her. “What the fuck is that?”

She giggles, so fucking cute, then takes a long sip of her soda. “It’s the nickname Brie gave to my grandpa’s friends. They’ve been hanging out in the diner every Sunday since I was in diapers.”

“You’re still close to them?”

She nods, expression softening to an exasperated fondness. “Carl taught me how to drive, because my grandpa was too anxious to be in the car with me. Lou—he owns the diner now—taught me how to change a tire and change the oil in my car, because he said no girl should ever be dependent on a guy for that.” Her smile is all affection now. “They taught me to play poker, and pool, and darts. Mark—who thinks he’s the cool hip one—taught me to smoke cigars.”

I want to ask her a million questions. Want to do anything to get her to keep talking about these old dudes who clearly stepped in to take on the role of surrogate family for a lonely, parentless kid. Because when Jas talks about these people, her features soften in a way I’ve only seen when she talks about her grandpa. And I want to keep that expression on her face forever.

“They’re your family.”

She nods, averting her eyes, like she’s embarrassed by the emotion on her face. “When my grandpa died, they all stepped up, you know? And they’re wonderful, really. They love me. But…”

“You don’t want to tell them about the pregnancy.”

She’s quiet for a long time. So long that I think she isn’t going to answer. But then she clears her throat, and when she looks up at me, I’m shocked at the depth of shame and sadness I see in her eyes.

“They had a front row seat to every one of my worst mistakes,” she says. “They saw how much I put my grandpa through. Saw the path that I was on. When he had his first heart attack, when I started to get my life back on track, they were all so—” her voice cracks. “Proud,” she finishes. “You should have seen them when I got into college. They threw me a party at June’s and made every customer who came in wear a cardboard graduation cap in my honor. It meant so much to them, me doing well.”

“And you think they’ll be disappointed now?”

“Of course they’ll be disappointed,” she snaps. “This is literally what my grandfather was afraid of. The worst thing he could imagine—that I’d go out and get pregnant.”

I swallow, hating the sound of the bitterness in her voice. I’ve been trying really hard not to think about the image of the baby on that ultrasound screen, trying not to think about the way that I felt in that moment. I know she’s not there yet. She’s not ready for the emotions I felt in the exam room. And right now, she needs to be my focus. So I’ve pushed down the overwhelming joy and connection and bone-deep certainty I felt looking at our baby moving so I can concentrate on Jas.

But it still kills me, a little, to hear her equate our baby to the worst thing her grandfather could imagine.

“When you were a teenager,” I point out. “He was afraid that would happen when you were young.”

“Like I’m any more ready now than I would have been then?” she shoots back.

“Ofcourseyou’re more ready now.” It’s a struggle to tamp down an exasperated laugh. “You’re a grown ass adult, Jas. You’ll have a college degree in a few months. You’re employable. You’retwenty-three.My mom had two kids when she was our age.”

“And your mom had a partner she could count on,” she snaps, and the room goes very quiet around us, the very air seeming to still.

I can see the exact moment her words register. Jasmine’s eyes go big in her face, guilt washing over her features. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine,” I say woodenly, wishing I hadn’t eaten that burger. I feel like I’m going to throw up. “No big deal.”

“River, no. I didn’t mean…I just…we’re not married, you know? We’re not in a relationship.”

And who’s choice is that?I think bitterly, but keep my mouth clamped firmly shut. I knew that Jas didn’t consider me someone she could count on—why would she?—but to hear her state it so plainly hurts like a bitch.