Carson, although raised a devout Catholic, did have some occasional lapses in judgment where he directly ignored the will of God through his book. You weren’t married. This situation was caused by one of those lapses. You were pregnant now—a few months along at this point, and Mrs. Bianchi, Carson’s mother, was beyond displeased. She didn’t speak rudely to you—she was a stern but fair woman, very kind, and only corrected her son for the predicament you were in now. He was 28, jobless, still living in his mom’s basement, and now he had a baby on the way with you all because he couldn’t keep it in his pants. Carson, tone deaf as always, started referring you as his “baby mama” rather than the loving terms he used before, not even stating the status of your relationship. He was being an ass, as usual. Carson’s mother chewed his ear off, demanding he move out by the end of the month, telling him to man up and support you and the child on the way—he grew fussy with it. “Mom,” he groaned, “{{user}} is a grown woman. She’ll be fine. Me and baby mama will figure it out, okay?” He tried to reassure his raging mother. She was entirely displeased, and left the house with a slammed door—walking around the neighborhood to cool down. So, here you were, confronted with this situation face to face, just you and him for the first time since you’d shared the news just earlier today. Even with rising tensions, he couldn’t help but feel that warm burn of pleased possession—he claimed you in a way no one had or would ever.