“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Cupcake. I dolikeyou. Most of the time.” His eyebrows shoot up, and even through the fatigue, I can see amusement creep in. I manage a small smile and rest my hand on his arm. “Are you doing okay with all of this?”
Michael just shrugs. “Nine weeks, huh?” I nod, carefully this time. “First real drink in six years, and I knock a girl up.” He rolls his eyes in self-reprimand, then groans and squeezes them shut, rubbing them with his thumb and index finger.
I’ve never seen him do that before, and I can’t help but wonder how much strain this is putting on him, and it scares me because I can’t be the strong one now.
“You can’t take all the blame.” I squeeze his arm to reassure him but also because I needto touch him, feel his solid protectiveness again. “I was there, too, and apparently, the morning after pill doesn’t work five percent of the time.”
He smiles and moves his hand to rest over mine. “When did you find out?”
“The day I called you.” I rest my head on the pillow. “I wasn’t sure I was going to keep it. I wanted to talk to you, see how you felt before I decided, but now…”
“You thought you lost it, and you realized you do.” Michael smiles at me fondly, his eyes moving to my stomach.
“Are you okay with that?” I ask, trying to gauge his response, figure out if the next words out of his mouth are real or because he has to say them. He stays quiet for a few seconds, hand moving to rest on my belly and eyes slightly glazed over, and I realize it’s a stupid question. The guy is very obviously into this whole baby thing.
“It doesn’t matter what I’m okay with. You want to keep the baby, so we’re having a baby.” A small smile finds its way to his lips, and this time to his bright brown eyes as well, and I feel my heart skip a beat. “Just promise me that no matter what happens between us, you’ll let me be a part of its life.”
“Mikey! Of course.” I cover his hand with mine and squeeze it. “This isourbaby.”
“Thank you.” He kisses the top of my head and gives my tummy a little rub before going to sit in the armchair next to my hospital bed. “You should rest. We’ll figure out the logistics once you’re out of here.”
“Logistics?” It hadn’t occurred to me there would be logistics.
“If I’m moving to LA or if you’ll come to Boston. If we live together or not, what the hell am I going to tell my mom and, more importantly—leaving you and the baby all my earthly possessions when Trista murders me. Logistics.” I laugh at that last part, but I really hadn’t thought about what happens next, mainly because I wasn’t sure there was going to be anything to think about.
But Iwillhave to decide where our lives will be, what they’ll look like. The understanding that I am now responsible for another human being hits me full force, and I feel a sudden panic creeping in.
“Can you sit with me some more?” Michael smiles, and I scooch over, letting him squeeze in next to me on the hospital bed and put his arm around me, his other hand caressing my stomach.
I already know I’ll be moving to Boston. I have no one in this world, and aside from a job I was planning on quitting anyway and a handful of work friends, I have nothing in LA. Tearing Michael away from his family and life’s work would be pointless and cruel. But that second part, about living arrangements, has me stumped.
If we live together, will I be able to stop myself from falling in love with a man clearly unable to love me back? Will it be enough for me to just have him as the father of my child and nothing more? But all those questions are about me, and right now, I have to think of what’s right for my kid.
* * *
Michael
Lauren is fast asleep on my chest, and I just can’t stop touching her stomach, imagining what she’ll look like when it’s all big and round, and it fills me with a sense of joy.
I should be losing my shit, but here I am, all warm and fuzzy inside, which doesn’t sit well with me, this discord between what I know I should be feeling to what I’m actually feeling. So, I carefully slide my arm from under Lauren and quietly sneak out to the warm night air, calling the one person I can always count on for relationship advice.
“I have two-year-old twins, Mikey. Someone better be dead if you’re calling me at this hour,” my sister-in-law’s sleepy voice greets me not so enthusiastically.
“Opposite.” I know she’ll be pissed at my cryptic answer, but I can’t help myself. I’m a brat that way.
“What does that even mean?” She sounds like she wants to strangle me through the phone.
“You know Lauren?”
“Trista’s friend in LA? The one she told you not to mess around with, but you very obviously did?” I can hear Emily rearrange her pillow with a sigh, probably thinking this is going to be another one of those times when she has to tell me how to lose a girl gently. “What about her?”
“She’s pregnant, Em.” There’s a gasp and then a thud and some scrambling, and I can hear my brother saying something in the background.
“You’re on speaker. He knocked Lauren up.”
Davey bursts out laughing. “Tris is going to kill you.” He’s still laughing, the asshole.
“Yeah, I know.” I groan and run my palm over my hair.