“Dad, we told you. The baby is due in September.”
“I don’t mean the baby. I mean the wedding.”
Uh oh. Record scratch.
I immediately reached for a cracker to shove in my mouth so I wouldn’t have to say anything. Let E.G. handle this.
“We haven’t talked about a date,” he said vaguely.
Nice job, I thought.
The truth was, we hadn’t talked about a wedding. Period. There were some days when E.G. hinted at making things more permanent. He talked about legal names, tax write-offs and trust funds. Mostly, I tuned him out.
But I knew where he was going with it all.
He wanted to put a ring on it. Make it official. Tie me in all the knots he could so that I wouldn’t bail after the baby was born.
And there were days when I was standing under the spray of like ten shower heads, (okay, slight exaggeration, but there were definitely six), in a monster luxurious bathroom, washing my hair with hundred-dollar shampoo, basking in all this luxury, when I would have those thoughts of…was I crazy?
Why not marry the guy, have his baby and live this incredibly comfortable life?
The sex would be hot.
I would have everything I ever wanted or needed.
My child would be loved. By parents, grandparents and an aunt.
In what universe did it make sense to walk away from any of that?
“I’m not ready,” I said. Which sounded like. “Hmmphnotrdy” because I was still eating a cracker.
“What was that, dear?” Jackie asked me.
I swallowed. “I’m not ready. To get married. That is.”
E.G. looked at me and I looked at him.
I haven’t pushed you to get married, Flowers.
Don’t think I don’t know that’s what you really want.
I want us to be together. As a family.
A legal document doesn’t make us a family. Love does. Are you ready to fall in love?
He looked away from me then.
“E.G.’s not ready either,” I said. But I didn’t want his parents to think all hope was lost. Because it wasn’t. I knew that even if E.G. didn’t. “It’s not entirely off the table, though.”
“It isn’t?” he asked me.
I shrugged. “We’ll see. I mean, don’t you think I should make him prove himself a little first?”
His dad nodded. “Absolutely. He’s got to win you over.”
“Exactly,” I agreed.
“He’s got to woo you,” Jackie said, patting her son on the back as she stood next to him. “Are you trying to woo her, Grant?” Evan asked him.
