Free When You Least Expect It by Whitney Gaskell

had always grossed Lainey out that he’d lounge there after working out before he’d showered. The gray microfiber upholstery was starting to smell. “This—the two of us—it isn’t working out. We both know that, right?”
    Lainey didn’t know what was more irritating: the fact that Trav had beaten her to the breakup, or that he was now talking to her in a soothing, sympathetic voice, as though she might be upset. As though he had the ability to break her heart.
    “Let me get this straight: I’m pregnant with your baby, and you’re kicking me out of our apartment,” she said.
    “My apartment,” Trav said. “I pay the rent. And you don’t have to go right away. Stay until you have the abortion.”
    The irritation quickly became a hot, buzzing anger that filled Lainey’s lungs and choked in her throat. She hadn’t planned on using her decision to keep the pregnancy as a weapon to bludgeon Trav with. If anything, she was hoping he wouldn’t interfere or do anything to screw up the adoption. But that resolve was swept away in her rage.
    “I changed my mind,” Lainey said. She smiled maliciously at Trav’s look of dumb incomprehension. “I’m not going to have an abortion after all.”
    The color drained from Trav’s face. “What?” he asked. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean I’m going to have the baby. I canceled my appointment at the clinic,” Lainey said.
    She stretched out her legs and took a bite of the pizza. She took her time chewing and swallowing.
    Trav sat heavily on the end of the couch, looking like he might cry.
    “Why?”
    “I changed my mind.”
    “But you don’t want a baby,” Trav said. His voice was now a whine, which Lainey found both irritating and satisfying.
    “Relax. I’m not keeping it,” she said.
    “What?” Trav’s head snapped up, and he turned to stare at Lainey with something that looked very much like hatred. “So you’re just fucking with me? You’re lying to me?”
    “No, I’m not lying. And drop the ’roid rage, I’m not in the mood. I’m going to give the baby up for adoption. That guy’s name I wrote down on the cable bill? He’s a lawyer,” Lainey said. “An adoption lawyer. I’m going to see him tomorrow.”
    “But you said you
wanted
to have an abortion. I gave you the money for it,” Trav said.
    Typical, Lainey thought. All he cared about was his eight hundred bucks. He’d turned into such a cheapskate.
    “I’m going to use that money to hire the lawyer, genius,” Lainey lied. She’d checked that out when she called Mike Jankowski’s office to schedule the appointment—she wouldn’t have to pay a dime. But she was fairly sure that Trav wouldn’t know that, so she’d decided to add his eight hundred to her Los Angeles savings. She figured she deserved it, just for having to put up with his steroid-induced mood swings.
    “Jesus, Lainey. You can’t make these decisions on your own,” Trav said.
    “Why not? It’s my body. It has nothing to do with you. I’m going to have the baby and put it up for adoption. It’s not like I’m asking you to raise it or anything.”
    “Why?”
    “Because I think you’d be a shitty parent.”
    “No, I mean why are you doing
this
. Having the baby. What do you get out of it?”
    Lainey shrugged and took another bite of her pizza. “Nothing. I just think it’s a good thing. The baby gets a shot at a decent life, and some sad couple out there who can’t have a kid gets to have one.”
    Trav let out an incredulous bark of laughter.
    “What?” Lainey demanded.
    “You’ve never done anything for anyone else in your life.”
    “That’s not true! I gave Flaca a pedicure today.”
    “Yeah, you’ll do shit for Flaca,” Trav admitted. “But not for anyone else.”
    “Look, if I want to have this baby, I will. And there’s nothing you can do about it,” Lainey snarled. She kicked at Trav with one bare foot, but he jumped out of the way before she could make contact.
    “Yeah, well,