“You’re sure?”
“I hadn’t been with anyone in a long time, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Unless you believe in immaculate conception of a non-virgin, non-practicing Christian, then yes, I’m sure. I’m pregnant, and you’re the father.”
He ground his teeth together and let out a long, slow exhale through his nose. “We need to get married.”
She gaped at him. “Uh, no we don’t.”
“Yes. It’s the right thing to do.”
She let out a petulant huff and glared at him, pushing herself out of her seat to stand in front of him. Her chest puffed up. “We arenotgetting married!” she snapped. “That isnotthe right thing to do.”
“Yes, it is.”
“We hardly know each other. We’re not in love. We arenotgetting married.” She plugged her hands on her hips and stuck one foot out. Her stare was enough to melt steel. “I only told you about the baby out of courtesy. If you’re not interested in being a dad, that’s totally fine. I can do it all on my own.”
Heat flooded Brock’s face and chest.
Did she just sayout of courtesy?
What the fuck.
He stood up, invading her personal space until there was no more than six inches between their bodies. “Listen up, woman.” Sexy blue eyes slowly lifted from his chest to his face. Her lips parted. “That’s my kid you’re carrying, myfamily,and I will damn well take care of it. I will damn well be a part of its life, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop me.”
Fire ignited in those wide eyes of hers, and a flush of pink invaded her cheeks.
Oh, she was mad.
He was madder.
How dare she come here out of fucking courtesy?
“You need to move in here,” he said, cutting her off. “That way I can take care of you and the baby. Be a part of the pregnancy, too. That’s my family you’re growing in that belly of yours, and I take that shit seriously. Family is everything to me.”
Her brows furrowed, and she poked a bony little finger into his chest, pushing hard to make him back up, but not hard enough.
He didn’t budge.
“Listen, you bossy jackass, I am not marrying you, and I am not moving in here. No one, and I meanno onetells me what do to.”
The tension in his forehead was back. “Well, then, whatdoyou want from me? Money? A trust fund for the baby? Name it and I’ll do it. I won’t be a deadbeat dad. This kidwillhave me in his life.”
“Or her.”
“Right. Or her. What do you want from me?”
She’d been so strong. Timid and nervous at first, but then owning her predicament and tearing off the news like a Band-Aid. But now she seemed lost again, just as fragile and nervous as when he’d opened the door to find her standing there on his doorstep: eyes bright, cheeks rosy and hair a sexy mess, caught up in the wind.
He was still angry as fuck at her. But he was also angry at himself. How could he have been so careless? So irresponsible?
That had to change now.
He glanced down at the pizza box again, picked it up and held it up to her. “Have you eaten?”
Food. Pregnant women were always starving, right?
Exhaustion stole across her face, and with a sigh of resolution she reached for a slice. “I don’t know what I want,” she confessed through big bites, moaningfrom how good it was. Brock glanced at the pizza box but was suddenly too overwhelmed with the news to eat.
She licked her lips, and without thinking or asking, he darted to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass of water. She took it with thanks and drained it in seconds.
