Am I in hell? Like actual hell. Am I seriously expected to go decaf?
It’s bad enough I have to give up alcohol—but caffeine?
This is too much.
“I think I need to leave,” I blurt out, turning and fumbling with the door.
“Leave? But we just got here?”
My stomach twists, and I pause, hoping to not expel the contents of my stomach all over the cafe floor.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
I didn’t want to have to stop to go to the bathroom on the trip, so I haven’t eaten or drank anything, which means I’ll be dry heaving.
I glance over at the table, homing in on the pastries.
“You look pale,” Toxic says with gleeful eyes. “Oh my God! Are you having morning sickness?”
“No, I would never!” I snap out. And yes, I realize how ridiculous I am being.
Leaving now would be a mistake because this meeting has to happen, so I straighten my back, look Toxic in the eye, and say, “My apologies. Let’s sit so we can discuss the situation.”
I thought men were supposed to hate unplanned pregnancies, but not Toxic. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man so joyful.
We sit across from each other with an army of breakfast foods between us.
“I got a bunch of sweet and savory breakfast foods.” He gestures to the table.
“What’s with the balloons?”
He looks up at the floating light pink and blue balloons and smiles. “They spark joy.”
I blink my eyes half a dozen times at his reply.
“Oh…”
It could be worse. It could be so much worse.
Seated across from him, I’m taken back two months to when we first met. His beard’s grown out a little, and he’s no longer covered in baby oil. He’s fucking huge. A goddamn giant on this earth.
And boy is he handsome. Irresistibly so.
Which isn’t exactly terrible, because our child will be drop-dead gorgeous.
“So, now that you know my name, I think it’s only fair that I know yours.”
“I’m Joe, but I haven’t been called that in years and I probably won’t respond to it.”
Nodding, I say, “Toxic, it is.”
My stomach growls, and I look at the array of food. Relief washes over me when I see a chai latte is among the pre-ordered drinks. I take it and grab a ham and cheese croissant, hoping I can keep everything down.
He pulls out his phone, his thumbs flying across the screen.
“Chai…tea…ham…—”
