“You need to figure out a wedding.”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re gettin’ married before this baby comes. I’m fine with a quickie on the courthouse steps, but if you want a weddin’, you need to plan it ASAP.”
I climbed off him and snagged my panties off the floor, shimmying them on. “First, you haven’t asked. Second, getting married isn’t going to change anything.”
“Are you saying you’re not going to marry me?”
“Refer to first point,” I said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t verbally spar with me, Lyric.”
I sighed. “I have never entertained the thought of marriage.”
“Entertain it.”
“Doom—”
“Lyric, you’re havin’ my child.”
“Stop interrupting me!” I snapped.
He pushed his hair back and secured it with a band, then the beanie again. “I will propose to you if that’s what you want, but if you want a big wedding you need to start planning now.”
I felt tears of frustration form. God, these pregnancy hormones were starting to piss me off. I was typically as even-keeled as they came and I rarely cried.
“Why do we have to get married?”
“Jesus! Because you’re having my kid!” he growled.
“People who are unmarried have kids all the time,” I countered.
“Ly—” Before he could release the rage I was sure he was fixin’ to, his phone buzzed and he let out a curse as he answered it. “Hey, Pop, now’s kind of a bad time. What? When? Shit. Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He slid his phone into his pocket. “My dad’s had an accident.”
“Oh my god, is he okay?”
“I think so. He needs me to run by his place.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
Doom sighed, sliding his hand to my neck and pulling me against him. “I love you, Angel, and I don’t know what’s got you spooked, but we’re gonna figure it out, because this baby’s comin’ into this world with his mother and father hitched.”
I bit my lip, but didn’t respond.
He kissed me quickly. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
* * *
Doom
I pulled up to my dad’s place, which was also my childhood home, and headed inside. “Pop?”
“Kitchen!” he called.
He was sitting at the table, a dish towel wrapped around his hand, a pair of wire cutters and pliers sitting next to him, and his face was as pale as a sheet. “What the fuck did you do?” He unwrapped the towel and I hissed out, “Shit.”
“I can’t get the ring off.”
