This was crazy. What he was saying wasactuallyinsane, and the words to tell him as much were on the tip of my tongue when I swallowed them, a thought giving me pause.
Very soon, I was going to have to tell my family I was pregnant, and with each passing day I found myself more and more unready. Dread over that conversation, and seeing their faces, had the joke of not telling them until he or she was born, sounding less like a joke and more like an actual possibility. Over the past weeks, I’d become surprisingly comfortable with the idea of raising this baby by myself, but I didn’t want to have to tell my family alone. I didn’t want to be the sole recipient of their disappointment, especially considering it wasn’tentirelymy fault. And especially because I no longer viewed this pregnancy as a “fault” or a “mistake.” I may not have chosen this path for myself, but I was choosing my baby, and I was getting excited. My brain was a constant loop of baby names, nursery themes, what I was going to put on a registry, assuming Linnea or Shayna threw me a baby shower.
Fake dating was a terrible idea for so many reasons, but I couldn’t help seeing how it could be beneficial for me too.
Finally, I spoke. “Fine. But I’m adding another demand to my list then.”
His eyebrows shot towards his hairline. “You’re seriously agreeing to this?”
I was just as shocked as he was that I was agreeing, but he needed to hear my new stipulation before he got his hopes up any higher. “I am, but I think you’re going to want to hear what I’m adding first.”
He sat back in his seat and eyed me skeptically. “What is it?”
“If I’m going to be your fake girlfriend, then I want you to be my fake boyfriend.” That statement was met with a “well, duh” look, so I elaborated. “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend when I go home for the holidays, and I want you to be there when I tell my family I’m pregnant.”
Archer straightened until he was sitting so straight, it didn’t seem good for his back. “You want me to help you tell your family you’re pregnant? Why?”
Peering down at my hands, I sighed. “It’s complicated, but the short of it is that while I love my family, I’m not like the rest of them, and having this baby is going to make that even clearer.” When I met his gaze again, I continued, the plan formulating in my mind as I spoke. “I’m not thinking anything too crazy. Come home with me on Thanksgiving so they can meet you, and then go back with me for Christmas and just sit there when I tell them.”
“You’re going to tell them on Christmas?”
“Well, notonChristmas, but around it, yeah.”
His scowl returned tenfold. “You do realize your brother isn’t my biggest fan, right?”
I waved a hand at him. “That was in high school. You’re different . . . now.”
“I’m not that different.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. The point is, I don’t want my family thinking I’m anymore of a screw up than they already think I am. Showing up to their house knocked upandwithout being in a relationship of any kind is going to make me seem like exactly that. I just . . .” I paused and took a steadying breath. “I want them to believe this wasn’t another one of my mistakes. Once you get your promotion we can break up, and then at least it won’t be my fault my baby is fatherless, and you’ll never see my family again to know their disappointment. It’s a win-win.”
Everything about him softened slightly, and if I was being honest, it was a little unnerving. “You’re not a screw up, Darcy. It was an accident.”
“I know I’m not, but I don’t want to feel like one, okay?” I shook my head as if I could clear the mental Etch A Sketch in my head before I could start spiraling. “And I’m not calling it that anymore. It wasan accident, but it’s not anymore.” I placed a hand protectively over my stomach.
Archer stared at me for a long moment. Unmoving. Unblinking. The way he stared at me was like he was trying to peer through my eyes and into my brain to where all the things I wasn’t saying lived.
“Oh!” I shouted a little too loud as another thought occurred to me. “And we should set some ground rules if we’re going to do this. Draw some lines, if you will.”
Archer continued to stare at me as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. “Like what?”
“Well, to start, no PDA. I’m not kissing you in public to sell this. I’ll tolerate hand holding, and if you need to hug me or wrap your arm around me, I’ll allow it, but no kissing.”
That snapped him out of his bewildered trance. “Just in public?” His voice lowered.
Was he . . . flirting with me? It was hard to tell since his expression hadn’t changed, but it felt like I had just gotten a glimpse of the Archer from that first night.
I shook my head. “Or in private. No kissing period. And nothing else either.”
“So, let me get this straight.” He echoed my previous statement. “No kissing. No fucking. I help you turn your gym into a nursery, get a paternity test, and I meet your family a couple of times. Those are your terms?”
I racked my brain for anything else I could think of that I needed to tack on, but came up empty. “Yes. Those are my terms.”
He held his hand out over the table and I took it, his large hand enveloping mine in a handshake.
It was a deal.
The waitress came with our food not long after, and we ate in silence. I could feel his gaze on my face as I ate my food, suddenly starving after negotiations, and when I glanced up, I couldn’t help but feel like I was looking into the eye of a storm—one that was about to rock my world. I just wasn’t certain it’d be in a good way.
