I excuse myself from the teachers’ lounge and walk outside, keeping my distance from the groups of children who are eating lunch or playing.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hey, ba—Ash.” He catches himself before he calls me ‘babe’. “The results are in.”
“And?” I ask, scarcely daring to breathe. Honestly, thinking they’ll be anything other than spectacular seems like an affront to his masculinity, but things aren’t always what they appear.
“You’re in luck. They counted 150 million swimmers per milliliter. Apparently that’s on the high end of normal.”
I smile. “You sound proud of yourself.”
He chuckles. “Can you blame me? If my little guys were no good then you’d have to go back to the drawing board. That’s a lot of pressure.”
I shrug, then remember he can’t see me. “I hadn’t thought of it that way. I wouldn’t have held it against you if things didn’t work out.”
“I know.” He sighs. “But I’ve let you down enough. I don’t want to do it again.”
Oh, Seth.
When he says things like that, I want to wrap him in a giant hug and never let go. Yeah, I felt alone after the miscarriage, but we handled it equally badly in our own ways.
“You didn’t let me down,” I tell him.
He scoffs, dismissive. “Of course I fucking did. You needed me, and I wasn’t there.”
I wander over to the building, lean against the wall and let it take my weight. “How were you supposed to know that I needed you if I never said anything?”
“I should have instinctively known.”
I can almost picture his bull-headed expression, the obstinate man.
“And I should have communicated better, or gotten help on my own and not expected you to fix things for me. It was as much on me as you. Neither of us was completely at fault.”
“I’ll always want to fix things for you.”
His confession stirs something within me, which means it’s time to steer this ship to safer waters.
“Thanks for letting me know about the test. There’s a course of oral contraceptives that come before the fertility medication. I’ll start them tomorrow.”
“I want to—”
I grin, knowing exactly what he’s about to say. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell you when I have my first appointment.”
“Hmph,” he grumbles. “Don’t forget.”
“I won’t.” It’s endearing how much he wants to be involved. A bell rings, and I glance at the clock. “I have to get back to work.”
“Wait.” His command is fast and hints at an emotion I can’t decipher. “Have dinner with me tomorrow.”
My pulse ratchets up, and I cock my head. Am I leaping to conclusions, or did he just ask me on a date? “Um…”
“Not as a date,” he hastens to add. “There’s a lot for us to talk about. If we’re going to have a baby together, we need to work out the details. I’d also like to hear what you’ve been doing for the last few years.”
“Er…” I hesitate, my instincts screaming at me that this is a terrible idea. “Not a date? Purely for the sake of the baby?”
“Yeah.”
Nibbling my lip, I have to admit I can see the sense in it. If we’re going to co-parent, we need to get a better idea of what our approach is going to be. Besides, I kind of want to know what his life has looked like since I left. Will I admit that? Uh, no. But that doesn’t make it any less true.
