“You’re not alone,” I tell her seriously, one hand coming up to cup her cheek delicately.
“What?” Her eyes are darting between mine, her face a mask of confusion.
She doesn’t know I know.
“You’re not alone in this, Gem. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Whatever you want to do.”
“Wh—what are you talking about?” She looks almost fearful now, almost like she’s worried for me. But she’s the one who we should be focusing on.
“If you want to raise this baby, Gem, I’ll raise it with you. I’ll love them like they’re my own. This changes nothing for me, okay?” My thumb traces her cheek softly as I stare into her eyes, making sure she knows I mean this with everything I am. “I’ll make sure you get the best medical care. Provide for our child in any way you want. I didn’t think it would be quite this soon, butof course I want kids with you, so what’s the difference doing it now rather than later?”
She’s speechless. Overcome, I think. I let my words sink in.
One second of silence stretches into five.
And then…she breaks down, doubling over, sending me scattering backward to give her a little bit of space. She might be about to puke? Or else she’s crying. Yeah, I think she’s crying. Fuck, I have some new books to find and read, surely there’s some on how to deal with pregnant chicks. Never done this before. I’ll figure it out though. Figure a back rub is a good way to start.
My hand reaches over, starts making gentle circles between her shoulders, trying to soothe her, calm her down, let her know I’m with her.
She shoots back up suddenly until she’s standing straight again, her face red, eyes watering.
I realize it’smirthon her face. This chick islaughing.
What.
The.
Fuck.
“Why…” she starts, but can’t get the words out through the lack of breaths she’s taking in. She tries again. “Why do you think I’m pregnant, Aaron?”
My jaw falls in disbelief. I was nothing but sensitive, committed, and thoughtful, and she’s openly laughing in my face.
“Your period is late,” I start.
“Actually, it’s missing entirely, but go on,” she says, still giggling, a finger polished in deep purple wiping a tear from her right eye.
My face screws up, even more puzzled now as to why she’s laughing, how a missing period does anything but further prove my point, and I give her more of my reasonings.
“Exactly. And you didn’t drink last night.”
She nods for me to continue, so I do.
“Your staple alcohols are not present in your fridge. Neither are some of your favorite cheeses. But you do have Pedialyte in your fridge.”
“So because I bought healthy groceries for myself, and I’m not boozing it up, you assume that I’mpregnant?” She’s practically howling at this point, and I’m starting to get annoyed. My reasoning is pretty fucking solid, if you ask me.
“I know you were having…sex,” I say the word delicately, like it doesn’t turn my stomach to imagine her with someone else, “with your ex.” I still refuse to say his stupid name.
“So because I’ve been sexually active, I’m pregnant?”
“Okay, listen, can you stop mocking me and just fucking tell me what’s so funny?” It’s a little snappy of me, but I’m getting impatient. Am I about to be a stepdad or aren’t I?
She takes a few calming breaths, fanning her face (and the tears of laughter gracing it), before hopping up backward on the counter, seating herself there and crossing her legs at the ankles, swinging them as she stares at me.
“First, you’re adorable,” she says, and my prickly bits feel marginally soothed at the compliment, but I’m still wary.
“Second, I’m no longer getting my periods because of the birth control I’m on, Stone. Not because I’m pregnant.” She looks at me pointedly, and I drop my gaze to the floor, bring my right hand up to scratch the back of my neck.
