“Someone else in the family must have eyes like that.”
I had looked down at my daughter and quietly answered, “Her father.”
It was the first time I’d spoken about Caleb in months.
The night I told Caleb I was pregnant, he disappeared.
There had been no argument.
No slammed door.
No warning that our relationship was about to end.
I had stood in my apartment bathroom holding the pregnancy test with shaking fingers, while Caleb stared at it as if the two lines might rearrange themselves if he looked long enough.
Finally, he raised his eyes.
“Are you all right?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
He reached for my hand.
“Then we’ll work it out.”
I searched his face. “You’re not afraid?”
He gave a nervous laugh. “I’m absolutely terrified.”
That made me laugh too, even though tears were already slipping down my cheeks.
Before leaving that night, he kissed my forehead and promised to call me the following morning.
