“Weird how?” she asks.
“Weird like…he made me dinner.”
“Oh God, not a man that cooks. Whatever will you do?”
“It was a candle lit dinner,” I whisper yell, not wanting to wake him up. Even though he is upstairs in his room and I am below him in the kitchen, his penthouse is a weird modern open concept where nothing actually feels separate.
“Oh shit. Go on…” I can hear some cooking show on in the background at her place and I kind of wish I was there. Iris is a great cook and a kickass baker to boot. While most women watch reality tv and dating shows, Iris watches British cooking competitions and makes her own recipe while watching, almost like she is competing against them. I like to hang out and be the judge at the end, though I am kind of lousy at it. I give everything she makes five stars.
“Chicken caprese,” I say, picking a chocolate chip up off my plate and popping it in my mouth. “And fresh bread with oil for dipping,”
“Herbes de Provence?” she asks.
“Probably,” I mutter. “And dessert. And wine! Which I couldn’t drink because I am knocked up.”
“So why didn’t you tell him over dinner?”
“I didn’t want to ruin it.”
“Maybe a baby wouldn't have ruined dinner. Maybe he’ll be happy when he finds out.”
“I doubt that,” I argue. “There’s a reason he is pushing fifty and has never been married with no kids. He must not want them.”
“Or he never met the right woman. Until he met you. He obviously has feelings for you, Amanda. I wouldn’t just assume he’s going to flip his lid when he finds out you’re having his child. It could be a beautiful thing if you let it.”
I slump in my chair. That’s the problem though. Iris could be right. He could be elated. After what just happened, it wouldn’t be completely unheard of for him to be excited about a baby. I haven’t been in many solid relationships, but I’ve read enough romance novels and watched enough Meg Ryan movies to know what it looks like when a man is getting feelings for a woman. Not to mention he flat out said it.
I’m yours.
But I am also enough of a realist to know that our situation is detrimental. His job rides on our relationship going well. Not to mention, the whole age gap thing isn’t exactly savory in some people's eyes. We are lucky things are going as smoothly as they are. Adding a baby to that might just be the pothole that veers the vehicle off the road and into a ditch.
I head up to bed, but I don’t sleep. I can’t. All I can think about is the looming fact that my body is holding another life right now. And I don’t know how I feel about it.
When the sun comes up the next morning, my eyes are still open. Callum’s phone goes off and he checks it, then rolls over and looks at me.
“Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?”
I roll to face him and as soon as he sees my eyes, he frowns.
“Did you sleep?”
“Hardly,” I admit. “I’m feeling a little sick again.”
“I’m worried about you. I think you should see a doctor.”
I nod. “I think so too.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“No,” I say more quickly than I intend to. “I just mean, you’re a busy man. I am capable of going to a doctor myself.”
To my relief, Callum nods and sits up, looking chiseled and tan as ever. It’s almost unfair how perfect he is. “I did just get a text from Noah. They’re having issues in the recording booth. I’ll probably go check it out. But let me know how it goes at the doctor. I want to know everything.”
As you should…
My conscience is about to rip me in half as he plants a kiss on me and grins. “Last night was out of this world. I could do this forever you know, just me and you and nothing else.”
Fuck. That does it.
