He’s telling me things that, deep down, I always suspected. But hearing him say it out loud makes it all seem real. It makes me feel lighter than I’ve ever felt in my life.
“You’re actually… happy that I’m pregnant?” I ask.
He places his hand on my stomach. My entire body shivers from the intimacy. “I’m euphoric.”
I gawk at him, trying to process the strangeness of this moment. Is it possible that I’m looking at a future with this man? A man I thought was going to be my worst nightmare?
“What does this mean for us?” I ask nervously.
“It means we’re going to have this baby. It means that you’re going to leave that shitty little apartment and move in here with me so we can raise this child together.”
His words are beautiful, but it’s not lost on me that they can be interpreted a different way. He hasn’t actually said what any of those changes mean for us.
Are we friends? Are we co-parents? Are we roommates or lovers?
Are we anything?
Are we nothing?
I desperately want to ask, but I’m too mortified by my reeking desperation to voice the question. So I just nod along, wondering why it’s so easy to agree to a whole new life with this man, even though I have no idea what it will hold.
“What is it?” he asks.
I blink and look up at him. "What?"
“What are you worrying about?”
I frown. “What makes you think I’m worrying at all?”
“Please." He rolls his eyes. “I know you better than you think, Jessa. Your mind is working in overdrive right now."
I take a deep breath. “I’m… scared.”
“Parenthood is daunting.”
“No, not about that. I mean, yes, I’m nervous about motherhood, but it’s something I’ve always wanted.”
“Okay. So then what is it?”
“What does this mean for us?” I ask again.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I told you.”
“You said we are going to raise this child together,” I clarify. “But will we be raising the baby from different rooms?” God, this is the cringiest conversation I’ve ever had in my life. I need to salvage the situation. “What I mean is—I guess what I want to know is… do I get a separate annex on your property? Or, like…”
His eyes go wide for a moment. Then his face splits into a smile. He takes my hand and brings it up to his lips. He kisses me gently and butterflies erupt in my stomach.
“I want you on my property. I want you in my bed, kotyonok. I don’t want you anywhere that I can’t reach out and touch you every fucking moment of the day,” he says softly. “Does that clear things up for you?”
Jesus.
Is it possible to melt from the sheer physical presence of another human being? With Anton, it feels more than possible—it feels inevitable.
“It’ll suffice,” I murmur with a blush. “Thank you.”
He smiles. “Thank you?”
“I don’t know why I said that," I laugh.