Excerpt of Unexpected by Kelly Rimmer

I set the phone down, just as Abby slides hers from the pocket of her jeans and starts furiously tapping the screen. The intense concentration on her face morphs into a scowl before she throws the phone onto the carpet near her bedroom door in frustration.

“Yikes.” I raise my eyebrows at her.

“I want it on record that I did not want to talk to you about this tonight,” she says fiercely.

I reach for the remote and pause her show. “Huh. You know, I could almost have guessed that myself.”

“It’s not fair to dump this on you tonight after the Warwick thing,” Abby exclaims.

“Dump what on—”

“Luca is making me tell you and I want you to know that before I even…you know—” she exhales in frustration “—tell you.”

“Okay,” I say, softening my tone. “This is all Luca’s fault, got it. Now what is ‘this’?”

Abby squeezes her eyes shut very tight and draws in a deep breath. When she finally speaks, her words tumble out so close to one another it sounds like she’s saying one ridiculously long word.

“I’ve-decided-to-have-a-baby-on-my-own-and-today-I-asked- Luca-if-he-would-be-my-sperm-donor. I know this might seem sudden, but I want you to trust me when I say that this is what I need to do. And that’s final.”

When she opens her eyes again, a moment or two has passed, but I’m still staring at her, slack-jawed at her announcement. I think I’d have been less surprised if she told me she was moving to Antarctica or that she’d decided to shave her head.

Abby as a mom? Yes. I can very easily imagine that. I know that on the bookshelf in her “cave,” she already has a binder full of information about parenting, complete with preferred schools for a hypothetical child, and a list of possible baby names. She’s made no secret of the fact that she desperately wants kids.

Abby as a single mom? Sure. She’s tough, caring and capable.

But Abby choosing to be a single mom, at thirty years old? Nothing about that makes sense. Abby has that damned binder on her bookshelf precisely because she is the kind of person who plans her life carefully and she’s been thinking about her sickeningly stereotyped nuclear family forever. It’s not just potential children she’s put an immense amount of thought into—it’s also her potential future husband, and the life she wants to build with him.

“But…” Even when my voice decides it’s ready to work again, my brain is still catching up. It doesn’t matter, because Abby silences me with a fierce wave of her hand.

“And it’s not something we’re going to discuss tonight because you’ve had a tough day, it’s late and I’m feeling very emotional about it and I’m not even close to being ready to explain to you why this is happening. We’ll talk about it in a few days when Luca has decided if he’s going to do it. Okay? And don’t you even think about trying to talk him out of it.”

“I’ve never been able to talk Luca in to or out of anything, not that I’d do that to you, anyway,” I say slowly. “I just don’t understand. You’ve always known exactly the life you want for yourself. What happened to the gamer husband you were going to find? What about the house in the suburbs where you’re going to settle down? What about the rescue dog named Charlie? How does…” I’m struggling to even say the words. “How does Luca’s baby fit into that picture?”

“It won’t be Luca’s baby,” Abby snaps at me, and leaps to her feet. “This will be my baby. Luca will be the baby’s annoying uncle, which is exactly what you will be, too. No one will know any different but me and Luca and… Austin and…” She groans in frustration. “Now you. End of story.”

I’ll respect her decision if she goes ahead with this. I’ll support her all the way. How could I not? Abby is smart enough to know what she wants, and strong enough to handle all the challenges of parenthood, even on her own.

It’s just that the more her announcement sinks in, the less I understand it. Abby is the least impulsive person I know— if she’s seriously considering this, there’sgot to be something more to the story. My suspicion is confirmed by the glint of tears in her eyes. She blinks rapidly, but it’s quickly apparent that she’s not going to be able to control her emotions. Her face crumples even as she turns away from me.

“I’m sorry to dump this on you tonight,” she chokes. “It’s not fair that you have to deal with Warwick and now this…”

“Abs,” I say, bewildered. “You aren’t dumping anything on me. Please sit back down and talk to me, help me understand —”

“I can’t talk to you about this yet,” she whispers. “Please just respect my decision and I’ll explain when I… I’ll talk to you about it when I’m ready.”

“But…”

I rise, too, ready to pull her into my arms, but she shakes her head and jogs quickly to her bedroom. Before I can even take a step, her bedroom door slams shut.

The sound echoes through the apartment—an undeniable full stop on