For these last few days, I’d carried my decision like a precious gem. That time, when only I truly knew what was in my near future made me feel powerful and in control, because I knew when I told Nate, some of my control went. I knew he would do what was right, and I felt guilty, because I wanted him to do what was right for him.
“I’m keeping it. I know –” I stopped because he was looking up to the decorated ceiling of the restaurant like a god was there hanging down. “Nate, are you okay?”
When he looked at me, there were tears in his own eyes.
“I’m relieved.” He sniffed, and I saw him let go of a breath that I figured he’d been holding since yesterday. “I know this is the trickier of the two options, but I’m happy about it.”
“What about your girls? What will you say to them?” Because the day after I’d made my decision, they had been all I could think about. This baby didn’t just change my life and Nate’s, it changed theirs forever too. They would always have a younger half-sibling, whether they got along or not. They would have to share their dad with them, and after what they’d been through with losing their mum, I didn’t know how easy that would be.
Nate shook his head. “I have no idea. How far gone are you?”
“About six weeks. It’s pretty easy to work out. So very, very early.” Which meant that there was still a chance that I could lose the baby.
He gave a smile that grew slowly. “There’s loads of time to decide what I tell them. I’ll speak to my therapist and take some advice.”
“Therapist?” I could’ve speculated that he would have gone for counselling.
“Grief, mainly. But she’s been helpful with how I’ve been with the girls too.” He looked at the menu. “Do you want to eat here still?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m hungry but not for anything on the menu here.” I’d researched about early pregnancy symptoms, and cravings and morning sickness could start fairly soon after conception. I’d already experienced morning and evening sickness, but it was easing up some, only now the cravings had started.
Nate’s eyes flickered, a smirk crawling over his mouth. “What are you hungry for then?”
I shook my head. “McDonald’s.”
“Seriously? McDonald’s? What would Neva say?”
“Neva wouldn’t have chance to say anything, because if she judges a pregnant woman’s cravings she’s likely to become worm food. Would you take me for a McDonald’s?” I had no other way of getting home and I was pregnant with his child, so I figured I was getting my double cheeseburger with fries.
He took out his wallet and threw a few notes on the table, enough to cover a meal for two on Valentine’s Day. “As long as you don’t tell Neva if I order anything.”
“It’s a deal.”
We were sitting in a McDonald’s car park just outside of the city centre. I’d demolished two double cheeseburgers and half a portion of fries and was working my way through a large chocolate milkshake.
Nate had managed two Big Macs, his fries and the rest of mine, only he’d opted for a large Sprite instead of the milkshake.
I was going to feel disgusting after this and I didn’t care. I’d had a healthy, nutritious lunch, based on meals Neva had recommended, and no breakfast, because I’d found I saw it again straight after.
We hadn’t said anything in the last twenty minutes, both of us far more caught up in eating McDonald’s and maybe Nate in his thoughts. My current state of mind was surrounding whether or not a third burger would be pushing the rules of pregnancy, and there was no way I wouldn’t be able to confess that to Saint Neva of Healthy Foods tomorrow.
“This is a great first date to tell our child about.” Nate deadpanned. “McDonald’s in a car park on Valentine’s Day.”
I laughed at his words. “I don’t think this is a first date.”
“Do you want a first date?”
Those burgers suddenly didn’t feel so good. “Honestly? Right now, no. I just need to not panic about how my life’s going to change, and dating you isn’t just about you, is it?”
He stared out of the windscreen.
“I also don’t want us to try to force something just because we’re going to parent a child together. If that’s what you want. I haven’t asked you whether you want to be involved. Or how you’d want to be involved.” I screwed up the wrappers and put them in the paper take out bag, needing something to do with my hands.
“You okay if I drive you home?”
It was the last thing I expected him to say. “Sure. I mean, I can call a taxi - ”
“I’m not letting you get a taxi. I wouldn’t even if you weren’t pregnant with my baby.” He sighed, irritated. “But I need your address, Amber.”
