She was keeping it.
She was having our baby.
Mybaby.
Something between an intense sense of relief and hysteria flooded me. I spent my life chopping cancerous parts of people’s livers and breasts without batting an eye, and yet here I was, sweating like a necrophiliac in a zombie movie.
“I don’t expect you to contribute or be a part of our lives, so please don’t feel any kind of pressure. But I’d be happy if you—”
“Marry me,” I blurted out.
She stopped, giving me an alarmed look. “Um, what?”
Great question. I have no idea where that came from.
Only, I did. For a second there, I could almost envision it. Me. Layla. A ruby-cheeked baby. A cozy nursery in a housesomewhere picturesque. We were all wearing white, which was a little creepy, but otherwise the scene was wholesome.
The technicalities could be worked out. That was all just fine print. But she wasn’t on the same page as me. For her, it had always been casual.
“Sorry, bad joke.” I set my wrap down, chuckling. “First of all, how are you feeling?”
“Sonot pregnant.” Layla laughed, tears clinging to her lashes. “I mean, a little bloated. And alotconstipated ... okay, I feel like I should not give all this TMI to my hookup.”
“There’s no such thing as TMI between you and the father of your child.” I couldn’t believe these words had left my mouth. “I want to know everything. And I want to be a part of the child’s life. In any capacity you’ll have me. Financially too. I’ll make sure you’ll both never want for anything. We’re in this together.”
She nodded, her chin quivering. “Thank you for handling this so ... well. Especially since I was the dumbass who thought it was a great idea to ditch the condom.”
“Hey, I was there when it happened. Averywilling participant in the conception,” I reminded her. “If you remember, I’d proposed ditching the condom at least a dozen times before. You were the one who was adamant about keeping it.”
I felt guilty, because I liked the idea that she was pregnant, even if it wasn’t planned. Something that’d tie our destinies together, no matter what curveballs life threw at us.
Suddenly, the clock stopped ticking. I no longer had an expiration date. Layla and I were an unbreakable unit.
Layla wasn’t ready for a relationship, and I had a feeling that piece of work Connor was the reason behind that. But this meant we’d be around each other for many years to come. Ifshe ever would be ready, in a future near or far, guess who’d be waiting in the wings?
NotConnor.
Speaking of the devil . . .
“Side note, but you never told me what happened with Kellianne.” I picked out a piece of tomato and tossed it into my mouth.
“Oh, she quit the day after the wedding. Via email.” Layla took a pull of her sparkling water, then gave the can an accusive wince. “Sparkling water tastes like a burp. Do people not realize that?”
I laughed. “Focus. She resigned?”
“Yeah. But not before sendingmea four-thousand-word email telling me I was a horrible person in need of acute therapy. She also said I was jealous, a sore loser, and past my prime.”
“Did you answer?”
She gave me aDo you even know me?look.
“I apologized for the scene I caused, stood my ground that her husband was a terrible human, promised her I despised him so much that I wouldn’t let him sniff my used underwear if the future of humanity depended on it, and wished them a very happy and functional life together, because they’d need it.”
“These two sound like they are perfect for each other.” I arched an eyebrow. “I’m glad they followed through with the wedding.”
She laughed. Then started to cry. It was a quiet kind of cry. Just tears running down her cheeks. “Oh my God, what is wrong with me?” She wiped at her face quickly. “I don’t understand why I’m so upset when we’re both handling this so well.”
“Your body’s going through a lot right now,” I reminded her, itching to touch her, to comfort her. “And this is going to change our lives forever. It’s natural to feel overwhelmed. It means that you understand how monumental this is.”
