Our status is also something I need to clarify today.
If romance enters the picture and fails, there’s no clean break. There’s just a child who still needs us to show up. I was the kid left behind because my parents couldn’t be civil and I’ll never let that happen to my child.
Anton and I start as friends; we stay as friends.
Friends can slow things down when feelings get loud. Choose logic over pride. Stability over impulse.
This baby and I need something that holds, even if everything else shifts.
I’m not sure what happens after desk duty, when the baby is here, but if we’re at least in the same town, we’ll have time. Time to talk. Time to adjust. Time to deepen our friendship and see what actually feels right for the unconventional family we’re creating.
I look at my watch. He told me he’d be here at six. It’s five-fifty-eight. My leg is jiggling.
It’s ridiculous how just thinking about Anton can make time misbehave because I swore it was six twenty minutes ago.
Then, the bell over the door chimes, and there he is.
A six-foot-five calm storm cuts through a frilly world. His boots look too heavy for the polished floors, his shoulders too broad for the soft light spilling across the tables. But that’s what I’ve always found attractive about him—not just as a man but as a person.
I don’t really fit this frilly world either.
I’m not this dainty. I’m not this refined. I’ve never been chill enough to navigate the LA friendships that come and go.
I’ve never asked Anton, but I get the impression he’s a kindred spirit, understanding this feeling as much as I do, but he’s chasing belonging in a very different way. Me, through work, him, through finding family, even if they’re not blood-related.
But he’s about to get that now. A strange swell of calm passes through me at the thought that maybe I’m not unraveling chaos but offering him a thread to tie it all together. I hope so anyway.
He finds my eyes, and suddenly all that time thinkingturns into a pile of hormonal emotion in my stomach. I want to cry.
He’s not just Anton anymore.
He’s the father of my child.
“Hey,” he says, that single syllable wrapping around me like a hug.
Now, I’m so glad he came. Suddenly, I feel like I needed him here all along.
I stand and give him a hug.
His arms wrap around me, and my body reacts before my brain can catch up—shoulders dropping, breath evening out, a sting behind my eyes I wasn’t expecting. I press my forehead briefly to his chest, letting myself take the comfort without questioning it.
When he pulls back, his hands stay on my arms, big and steady, his eyes searching my face.
“Damn,” he says. “You sure know how to make a uniform look good.”
“Thanks.” I smile, small but bashful. Somehow, I thought being pregnant all of a sudden put me in the less sexy category, but when we sit in the booth, Anton’s eyes dip just once for another peek at either my badge or the cleavage on display.
I unbuttoned because the boobs are squashed all day in this shirt. No other reason…I swear.
“You okay?” he asks.
“As okay as someone can be when life decided to rewrite itself.” I lift my water, take a sip to busy my hands. “You want coffee?”
He shakes his head. “Already had too much.”
The waitress comes over, and Anton glances at me. “What can I get you?”
And again, tears prick the backs of my eyes.What can Iget you?Just a promise that we can do this. That everything’s going to be alright.
