The Coaching Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #4)(82)

It’s Monday and getting cold. I stopped for hot chocolate on my way to class this morning and added extra whipped cream because I haven’t really taken advantage of the “eating for two” philosophy yet. Pretty sure this baby will come out being addicted to cocoa, whipped cream, and marshmallows.

I felt my first flutters of life today, Elliot. Don’t worry, I was alone when I felt it—no Rex to swoop in and steal your thunder. Not today anyway, but he does love having a “knocked-up friend,” as he calls me. He is so weird sometimes, LOL.

Tonight I’m going to my dad’s for dinner. It’s been a rough road, but we’re finally getting there. I think mostly he’s embarrassed he has this respectable position at the university, and my first year here, I got pregnant. Linda thinks he’s angry because he couldn’t prevent me getting hurt, but I’m not so sure. He stomps around the house, slamming drawers and grunting.

As for my mom? She isn’t ignoring my phone calls anymore like she did for three weeks after finding out, and she has stopped calling my dad to scream at him. Talk about dysfunctional.

You know, everyone thinks they have the family with the most problems, but when you look further, you see all the cracks.

For the sake of my sanity, I’m hopeful we can all look back and laugh about it.

Hope you’re well. I’m tired and ready for another nap.

Anabelle





Elliot,



I was thinking about the conversation we had in my room about my dad, and I realized I haven’t told you the story—any of it—about when I told Dad about the baby.

So I will tell you now, the memory turning my stomach a little.

I dragged Rex along for moral support, which I had mixed feelings about to begin with. Dad is warming up to Rex but not at the rate I was hoping, and I knew having them in the house together would be touchy. But, I didn’t want to go alone. I wanted someone’s hand to hold, just in case, so he was my guy.

I could barely eat the dinner Linda had prepared, and I heard none of the conversation (mostly wrestling talk). Then, when we’d cleaned the kitchen and went to sit in the living room, I told him.

I just blurted it out because WHAT ELSE DO YOU SAY? There is no easy way to give this news.

He stood up in his chair, stared at me. Then walked from the room, stormed outside. He stood outside, in the cold for a good ten minutes, Elliot, stewing. Swearing. Lots of swearing—I cannot imagine what the neighbors thought.

Dad wouldn’t look at me when he finally came back inside. He asked one thing: “Who did this?” If looks could kill, Rex Gunderson would have been a dead man.

“Not him,” I said.

“Not me! Don’t hurt me!” Rex had his hands up in the surrender position, and if it wasn’t so sad, I would have laughed so hard.

“It’s that roommate of yours, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “Yes, but I love him.”

“Love.” He snorted. “How is that working out for you? Didn’t that boy move out?”

He was being mean, but I don’t blame him. This is not what he had planned for me. I think if he had known this is how me moving here was going to turn out, he never would have had me come. Never in a million years…

“Obviously you’re going to move back home.”

“I’m not. Right now, I can make it on my own.”

“Because I’m paying your rent.”

“Dad…”

“You have no job, no degree, and your roommate got you pregnant. You are moving home.”

At that moment there was no arguing with him, but for now, I’m still in your house. My house.

We’ll see what happens in a few more months.

I miss you,

Anabelle





Dear Elliot,



It was great hearing your voice on the phone last night. Sorry I sounded so tired—that’s happening a lot lately. I know you bought your own copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Did you know they have websites where you can track your pregnancy progress and read forums? Don’t know if there are any dads lurking among them, but if you’re ever curious, take a peek.

I go on them a lot, mainly to find other young women in my situation, always searching for…something. Normalcy, I guess. I wonder if my life will ever be normal after this.

After the baby is born.

I wonder every day what I’m going to do in the spring—probably get a job and put the baby in daycare. I would rather date that douchebag Eric Johnson than ask Linda to babysit.

It’s important that I do this myself.

It might have been harsh when my mom told me I had to deal with the consequences myself, but she was right. I’ll worry about my plan tomorrow though, I’m so so tired. **yawn** Madison and I have been watching movies together at night, just like you and I would. She crawls into bed with me sometimes, and we watch our shows. I like not being alone—that big bed is lonely.

She and I have been talking about it, and while she really loves me, I don’t think she wants to stay living with me once this baby comes. She likes sleep, LOL. I feel bad but totally understand. Who could blame her?

Anabelle





Elliot,



Well, it’s finally happened. I’m up to two cups of steaming hot chocolate a day. I’m officially addicted! Guess there are worst things to crave, like McDonald’s in the middle of the night, or ice cream. I read that lots of women crave apples—why can’t I want fruit?! It’s so much healthier, but I suppose cocoa is harmless enough, yeah?