The Bad Boys Baby

Chapter 12 - The Holiday

Isabelle P.O.V

Speaking to Ryder is a puzzle. So many pieces, I think I'm missing something.

School never felt more alone since I told him to agree to the adoption. Truthfully, I thought he would be glad to be rid of me. I have no choice.

"Mom," I whisper, tiptoeing down to the foyer looking over into the living space. The lights were dim. Her glasses sitting on the tip of her freckled nose as the light from the computer screen illuminated the rest of her face.

Tilting her head, "Yeah, What's up?" She scoots her work to the side.

"I'm a good person. Right? Like I'm giving it to people who can't have a baby, or to people that can give it what I can't. I just... feel guilty. And Ryder and you. I'm supposed to love it not hate it," I ramble, giving no time for my mom to interject as I rub stomach. The guilt is killing me. Tell me it's alright.

The blanket laid around her loosens and she propped her chin on her fists. "Honey, of course, you are. I want you to be happy like you want the baby to be. Ryder will cope." She explains.

"I know. He hasn't gone to school this last week and I think it's my fault. I mean he never goes to school, but he was really disappointed. Why would he want a kid? We don't know each other. We barely even talk. We're kids. I don't know what to do, mama."

"How about you talk about the agency? Take you there in the morning?"

"Sure," I agree, thinking it can't possibly get any worse.

I wrap my head around the idea, while she embraces me into a hug.

Next morning was more intoxicating than the last. My head pounding and stomach threatening to come out through my mouth. I take my prescribed prenatal pills and pace around the room. Avoiding Ryder may be better than talking. Ever since I found an adoption agency I'm stressing about the baby. I'm stressing about Ryder. I'm stressing about being stressed. Keep stress levels down, says the doctor, it isn't good for the baby.

I'm imploding but for the sake of this child, I must persevere. "I'm ready, mom," I yell, pulling open my bedroom door.

I press my feet into the softness of the tan carpet, watching each fiber ruffle between my toes. My hands strapped to the folders. Agency, Baby, Parents, Ryder, have been swarming my brain.

Deal. What if he doesn't mean it?

"Come on," she pats my back and guides me towards the foyer.

I had only found the agency a few days ago and looked at maybe a few dozen applicants. I told him he had a choice too.

The car ride was anxiety trailing my behind for the few short minutes it takes to get to Ryders. He wasn't answering my calls and I already feel weird showing up unexpectedly. The large evergreens swish by and light plucking its way in between, blinding me.

Next, stands the ginormous house constructed of nothing but a nurse's and lawyer's salaries. Containing none-other than a boy who impregnated me and his formal parents. Ones that I've never personally met.

"You want me to go with," my mom offers, but I simply decline with a shake of the head.

"His parents don't know; he probably isn't planning on telling them now. It would be odd. You can come get me soon. I'll call you when I'm ready."

"I'll be back then," she affirms, "He should really tell his parents," she finishes almost as if it's to herself.

"Love you, bye," I leave after she repeats the same.