The baby's biological father.
Shari must realise what she said because she visibly winces and tries to backtrack, “No, that came out wrong. He is the baby's father, but I made it sound so clinical. That's not...we're just…I’m sorry, can we start again?” She reaches for my hand, and although I'm crushed, I know she didn't say it maliciously. Although it's pretty clear I was right about her just wanting to enjoy her pregnancy hormones.
The doctor morphs into professional mode, and with a kind smile, she says, “Congratulations, Brad. It's nice to meet you. Shall we meet the MVP now, though?”
Nervous agreements, cold gel, a weird little device that looks a bit like a computer mouse, and suddenly there are black and grey clouds moving on a screen. There it is! A tiny little human-shaped bean writhing around on the monitor, and a galloping heartbeat filling the room. It is the most wondrous thing I've ever experienced, and I can't swallow past the golf ball in mythroat. Tears spill over as I look at Shari to find her watery gaze already waiting for mine. Just like that, all painful comments are forgiven and forgotten because our baby is on the screen. This little nugget who's half me and half Shari is growing inside the beautiful woman before me. I may have just fallen a little bit in love with my baby mama.Shit.
SHARI
Dr Subramanium. What are the odds? I thought she was a fertility specialist at the private clinic in Nottingham, so what is she doing in a general hospital here? In Bristol.
The way she looked at Brad, I could practically feel her judgement on our age gap. I shouldn't have let it fluster me, but it did, and I feel awful about how I introduced Brad.The baby's biological father?God, he must hate me. Especially after this morning. In fact, the last few weeks have been incredible, and it feels like he might want me for real. Yet I have to go and ruin it with that introduction. Or maybe he's just enjoying my pregnancy hormones. Did I read too much into it? He hasn't even hinted at trying for anything serious since that very first day.
I shake myself out of that pointless thought train and stick the sonogram to my fridge door, after showing Pickles that he's going to be a big brother, of course.
Brad starts making us lunch and I'm still flooded with emotions and dopamine, and he just looks so delicious moving around my kitchen that I can't even begin to smother my smile.
Deciding not to overthink things, I wrap my arms around his waist from behind, nuzzle my face between his shoulder bladesand just breathe him in. One big hand comes up to cover mine, even as he continues assembling our sandwiches with the other, and who doesn't love a guy who can multitask? He drags me over to the island, still attached to his back, and spins me around to his front as I giggle through the whole process. That smile. Truly a weapon of mass destruction. With a quick peck on the lips, he lifts me to sit on a barstool and puts a sandwich and glass of orange juice in front of me.
We eat in silence, with my legs draped over his lap and one of his hands resting on my knee, and every time our eyes meet, we grin like kids sharing a secret. Which, I guess, we kind of are.
“Can I ask you something?” he asks when he finishes his last bite.
“Of course.”
“What is this? What are we doing here?”
I nearly choke on my mouthful of bread and chicken, unprepared for the seriousness of his tone. “What...what do you mean?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You want me to spell it out? What are we? We've spent a fair few nights together now since we first met. We clearly have a physical relationship and are getting to know each other. But when you found out you were pregnant, you said, and I quote ‘there is no us’. Has that changed? Because I feel like there's an us.”
“I…I mean...do we really need to put a label on it right now? It's still so early in our, whatever this is, and like you said, we're just getting to know each other. You're so young and don't need to be tied down just because we're having a baby together,” I manage to keep my voice surprisingly level, even as my stomach clenches at the thought of him with someone else.
He hums as he watches me thoughtfully. “And what if I want to be tied to you? What if I want there to be an us?”
My brain glitches as my heart trips over itself, and all I can do is stare at him, blinking furiously.
Chuckling, he gathers our dishes, “Something to think about, Blaze.”
He catches me trying to stifle a yawn as exhaustion suddenly washes over me. “Why don't you head upstairs for a nap? I'll clean up down here.”
“No, I want to spend time with you. Plus, this is my house, and you made lunch, so I'll clean up,” I protest through another yawn.
He shakes his head with a smile. “Blaze, you're exhausted. Go on up and I promise I'll join you when I'm done.” Another peck to my lips and a tap on my bum sends me upstairs, fully planning to wait for him to join me, but I must pass out as soon as my head hits the pillow. I wake briefly to Brad shifting me to drape across his chest, our legs entwined, before I drift off once more.
When I wake again, I see that he's watching a rugby match on mute on his phone, and I’m momentarily distracted by all the muscular thighs on the screen. “Hey, how long was I out?”
He tilts his head to look down at me. “About three hours.”
“What? Why didn't you wake me?”
“Blaze, you obviously needed the sleep. And I was just happy to watch you snore, like a creep.”
A single laugh blares out of me before I bury my face in his chest. Damn, he smells good. “Your baby is exhausting. It's probably going to be a giant like you,” I groan.
“Probably. All those viking genes.” His eyes twinkle with amusement.
I'm lost in the depths of those stunning orbs as I mutter, “I hope they have your eyes.”
