“What does that even mean, us? This isn’t… I don’t know what this is.” Frustrated, she pulls her hand back and hugs her knees. “You can’t say it’s fine, because it’snotfine.”
“I’m not saying it’s fine. I’m saying I’m not going to run. If you decide to keep it, I’ll be here. I’m here now.”
Tears well up in her eyes, clinging to her thick lashes. “You’re not the settling-down type. You’ve made that clear. This isn’t you.”
“Maybe it is,” I say softly. “Maybe I just didn’t realize it until now.”
She focuses on me, uncertain. “Are you only saying that because I’m pregnant? You’re trying to be some hero now because you feel responsible?”
“No, I’m saying it because I care about you. Because I…” I stop, exhaling slowly. “Because I love you.”
I’ve said those three words to a girl before. Many times, in fact. Back when I mistook sexual chemistry for true love, before I realized what I was feeling wasn’t real. Didn’t last.
It’s been years since those words left my mouth, but the second they do, I know without a doubt this isn’t about chemistry or sex or some idealistic version of love I write about in songs.
This is the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my life.
Blake Logan owns me. Heart, body, and soul.
“You love me.” She bites her lip. “Since when?”
“I don’t know. Forever maybe. I’ve just been too scared to say it.”
She stares at me like she’s trying to read every thought in mymind. “You’re not just saying that?”
“No.” I reach for her hand again, and this time, she lets me hold it. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’m in love with you.”
Her face crumples, as if she doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh. She doesn’t say it back. That should bother me, but it doesn’t. She’s going through a lot right now. I don’t want her to feel forced to say things or pressured to feel something that she doesn’t.
For a moment, we sit there. Fingers laced together, staring at each other like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
Then she says, “What if I’m not ready? If I can’t do this? I’m not someone’s mom.”
I tighten my grip on her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever you want, whatever you need, I’m in this.”
She sniffles, peering at the water. “It scares me that you don’t sound scared.”
Chuckling, I press her hand to my chest, where my heart is pounding harder than it ever has before.
“Feel how fast that’s beating? I’m fucking terrified. But…two weeks,” I remind her. “We sit in this together for two weeks. No rushing, no pushing. Just us.”
“Us,” she repeats slowly, as if testing the word out for size.
I gently stroke her knuckles. “Can you do that for me, baby?”
“Yeah.” Blake leans toward me and rests her head against my shoulder. “I can do that.”
Chapter 44
BLAKE
DESPITE OUR AGREEMENT TO KEEP it between us, we decide to do the unthinkable and tell the dads. Not because we’re desperate for transparency but because morning sickness has descended on me like a swarm of locusts. It hits out of nowhere the day after Wyatt and I have our conversation on the dock, turning my life into a state of pure misery.
Mom told me that when she was pregnant with me, she only felt nauseous at night.Mynausea begins in the morning, and then (fun times) continues well into the afternoon, and then (lucky me) stretches out long past evening.
Pregnancy sucks.
Day one, we were able to convince my father that I had a twenty-four-hour stomach bug.
