Then there’s the other questions which plague me. Will our friendship dissolve because he thinks what I’m asking him for is weird as hell? Will he judge me? Will he want to be in the child’s life?
The last one is the hardest for me to wrap my head around.
I can’t deny Corbin would make an awesome dad. He’s fun, kind, smart and adventurous. A kid would be lucky to have him for a dad. He also doesn’t do commitment, but, then again, neither do I.
There might be a lot of questions floating through my mind, but one thing has become crystal clear to me—I want a baby. I want that love and connection. I don’t need the man part of it, but the thought of having a baby feels right.
Some people would think I’ve lost all my faculties because of what I want. I get it. We might pretend to be all modern with our thinking a lot of the time and single mothers certainly aren’t looked down upon like they used to be, but usually those are single moms who are single by circumstance and not by choice.
Doing this by choice is a whole other thing and a decision I’m not sure a lot of people would understand.
Hell, I’m not sure my family will understand. Mom will be happy because she loves kids. She probably won’t be too judgmental. Dad will take his cue from Mom. Hale will probably ask me who he needs to beat up. My sisters will…I’m not entirely sure what my sisters will do. They’ll support me, but I’m sure they’ll also have some questions.
I suppose it could be worse.
When I called Corbin after his show, I was going to ask him to come to my place, but then I chickened out and asked if I could meet him at his. I figured it would be better to have a way to pull the ripcord and bail if things go spiraling out of control. I’m hoping it doesn’t happen and we have a strong enough friendship that he’ll at least hear me out.
I could also be wrong, and this is the worst mistake I’ve ever made in my life.
But the thought of a little bundle in my arms, of bringing life into this world, makes me smile. I swear I can feel the weight of a little one in my arms and smell their baby soft scent. Warmth fills me at the thought, and I know I have to at least try.
I’ve never been nervous when knocking on Corbin’s door before, but here I am, and my knees are practically knocking with the force of the butterflies flying around in my belly. It would be embarrassing for me to faint in front of him the moment he opens the door, but right now it’s a real possibility.
I need to get my shit together.
I take a deep breath and brace myself when I hear the locks disengaging. When the door swings open, I force a smile on my face, but by the look Corbin shoots me it’s obvious just how forced it is. His eyebrows come together as he studies me, and I stop myself from shifting from foot to foot like a child.
Embarrassing and awkward.
Perfect, this is starting out great.
Corbin is an attractive man. His brown hair is shorter on the sides and longer on top. He has deep brown eyes which I’ve always found welcoming and warm. I know he has a damn good body since we always make a trip to the shore at least once during the summer. It’s a tradition.
Am I going to ruin all our traditions by asking what I’m going to ask tonight? I hope not, but at the same time, if I do, then I guess those traditions didn’t mean as much as I thought they did. The idea of flushing our friendship down the drain makes my heart ache.
Is it going to stop you?
Nope. It’s not.
Corbin’s voice is full of concern, “Are you okay? You look a little pale.”
When he steps back from the door, I’m quick to slip inside and wave my hand dismissively, finding it easier to breathe when I’m not looking at him. “I’m fine.” Is that my voice? It sounds…wrong. I clear my throat and try again, “Really. I’m good. I just need to talk to you about something.”
“Okay,” he sounds unsure, but pushes forward anyway, “you want a drink?”
I want to beg him for anything alcoholic, but that would not be a good idea right now and I know it. It’s better to keep a clear head for this kind of conversation, I’m sure. It would be the responsible thing to do.
"No," I almost choke out the word. “I’m good.”
I plop down on his couch and wait for him to join me. When he does, I tuck my feet underneath me and turn, propping myself up in the corner. His brown eyes are intense as he looks at me as if he’s trying to read my thoughts.
Don’t do it. You’ll run if you do.
“You said something about claiming your coal on the phone?” He chuckles, a warm, rich sound which has always given me a feeling of home. He is my best friend after all. “What’s that about?”
I arch an eyebrow at him and tease, “Have you been living under a rock? You didn’t hear about the Hollie Berry interview?”
He shrugs one shoulder casually and my eyes are drawn to it. He’s always had such strong shoulders. I wonder if they’re broad enough to carry what I’m about to ask of him.