“In the kitchen!” Mom calls back, and I look up at Dayton as he takes my hand. Absorbing the strength I need from his touch, we walk toward the kitchen and step through the open door. Mom, who is at the counter and putting together a platter of bagels and what looks like smoked salmon, glances between Dayton and me. And then her eyes drop to our hands and widen.

“I fucking knew it.” Jacob, sitting on one of the stools, laughs.

“Watch your mouth,” Mom hisses at him, then looks over toward the opposite side of the kitchen when Dad steps out of the pantry, carrying a bottle of champagne.

“Found it.” He holds the bottle out toward Mom, then looks over at me when he realizes her attention is focused elsewhere. “Hey, sweetheart.” He smiles, then looks at Dayton and drops his gaze to our hands. “When did this happen?” he asks, looking between the two of us, his smile never faltering.

“Umm….” My heart pounds, and I start to feel lightheaded.

“This is going to be good. Mom, do you have any popcorn?” my brother asks while cackling.

“Shut up, Jacob.” Mom sighs.

“What am I missing?” Dad questions, looking over at Jacob and then Mom.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt, caving under the pressure wrapping around my insides, and Dad’s head flies my way.

“Oh my God,” Mom breathes.

“Jesus,” Dayton mumbles.

“Damn. Way to rip off the band-aid, sis,” Jacob says quietly, and I try to swallow the panic that rises over the fact that I even shocked my brother.

“Come again,” Dad murmurs.

“I’m pregnant,” I repeat, with tears filling my eyes. It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I’m not sorry. Every day, I fall a little more in love and get a little more comfortable with the idea of becoming a mom.

I’m not sorry that I’m pregnant. Maybe the timing isn’t great, and maybe I wish that things could have played out a little differently between Dayton and me, but who knows if we would have ever had a reason to get to know each other if I hadn’t ended up pregnant.

Looking sideswiped by the news I just bombed him with, Dad walks to one of the stools at the island and falls onto it as he stares at me in shock. “How did this happen?”

“Dad, do you really need me to sit you down and have the birds and the bees talk?” Jacob asks, and Dad turns to look at him. I can’t see the look on his face, but it must be scary. “Sorry. Too soon.” My brother holds up his hands.

“I’m guessing the baby is Dayton’s?”

“It is,” I whisper, and he nods, rubbing his chest while the color seems to drain from his face.

“Are you okay, honey?” Mom asks, walking around the island to him.

“I’m fine.”