Her admission slams into me before I can brace for it. Everything inside me goes still as static roars in my ears.
Pregnant.
The reality of it barely registers.
I try to picture it. Her stomach rounding as she wears one of my shirts, her hand resting where our kid kicks, and something detonates deep within. Awe and fear tangle together until they’re too big to separate.
A family I never thought I wanted until her.
Holy fuck.
Rina’s carrying my baby.
She rushes to fill the silence. “You don’t need to do anything. I’ll take care of it myself.”
“Are you out of your mind?” The question tears out of me as my hands lift to cradle her face, tilting it until she has no other choice but to meet my stare. “Like hell you will.”
“I’ve seen what happens when men walk away,” she whispers, tears slipping down her cheeks. “My mom. Callie. I won’t depend on you.”
She says it like it’s already a foregone conclusion. As if she’s decided I’ll be the next one to leave, that I’ll be another man who just disappears. The thought of her believing that about me shreds my insides.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” My voice breaks even though I try to fight through the emotion. “This isn’t just about the baby. It’s about you. It’s about us.” The words come out sounding ragged. “There’s no way you’re doing this alone because I’m never letting you go.”
She falters, and a small, raw sob slips free as she squeezes her eyes shut, as if it’s possible to hold it all in by sheer force of will.
I ache watching Rina try so hard to be brave. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to be strong for me.
Not now.
Not ever.
Instead, I press my forehead against hers as the tremor in her body vibrates through mine. Our tears mingle as a quiet, unshakable certainty takes root deep inside me. It’s almost as if something intrinsic has finally fallen into place.
“Pack your bags,” I say, my lips against her hair. “You’re coming home with me.”
She doesn’t respond.
Not right away.
Her forehead drops to my shoulder as her fingers curl into my shirt like she’s trying to keep herself together one thread at a time.
For once, I don’t try to fix it. I just hold her, allowing the silence to stretch until it feels less like a punishment and more of a surrender.
For the first time in my life, forever doesn’t scare me.
Even though Rina shakes her head, the resistance in her body has eased.
I tighten my hold on her. “You don’t have to believe me yet. You just have to let me try.”
It’s not a demand, but a promise.
Her shoulders hitch with a deep inhale before sinking on the exhale. “I don’t need you. I can do it on my own.” The protest is weak, a shield held up more out of fear than conviction.
Maybe she really can do it all on her own.
Rina’s one of the toughest women I’ve ever known.
She’s fierce and capable.
