“Yeah?”
“We, uh, didn’t use a condom.”
He looks down at the bed then at me. “Is that okay? I promise you, I’m clean. I’ve got my recent medical results in my office.” He nods toward the door, indicating the office by the washer and dryer. “I’ll go get them.”
“No. Well, yes, later. It’s just….” How do you tell a guy you just met that you’re not on birth control? That I have an allergy to the pill and can’t afford any of it anyway? But here’s a better question: how do I feel about him not using a condom? He says he’s clean, which is great, but am I ready to be a mother? Hell no. I don’t even have a damn job, and I’d need one, because once he finds out I’m not on birth control, he’s going to kick my sorry ass out even though, technically, it’s his fault he didn’t wrap it up. The asshole.
“JoJo?”
I’m pulled from my thoughts and give him a rather dirty look. “What?”
“It’s just what? What were you going to say before you spaced off?”
“I didn’t space off.” The jerk. “I was just trying to figure out how’d I raise a child on my own.”
“A child? On your own? What are you talking about?”
“I’m not on birth control. I—”
“You’re not?”
“I’m allergic to the pill, and since I don’t have insurance….”
“Ah,” he says, running his fingers through his hair. I’ve noticed he does that when he’s stressed out.
“It’s okay.” I slide toward the edge of the bed so I can get up. “I’ll just pack up my stuff.”
“What?” he says, reaching for me. The action pulls us both back down onto the bed. He rolls over me so he’s right back where he started. “No. I’m sorry. I assumed you’d be on birth control, but there’s no way I’m letting you run out of here. If we’re pregnant, we’ll deal with it. I happen to think I’d be an amazing father.”
“You would be. I think.” I laugh even though I’m not in the mood to laugh. “From the few days we’ve known each other, you seem like you’d be a good dad. It’s me. I’d be a terrible mother.”
“No way.” He kisses my nose. “You’d be perfect. I hope our daughter gets your hair.”
“Whoa, Billy.” I try to pull away. “At this point, I think we need to hope and pray I’m not pregnant. I don’t even have a job.”
“I’ll take care of my girls.”
“Jesus.” I laugh again. “You’re crazy.”
“Nah, I just know what I want, and I wanted you the second I saw you at Dingus’, you with your denim overalls and Pippy Longstocking braids. The fact that your body was curvy and compact was a bonus, but it was that sweet face of yours that had my heart. And that sassy mouth.”
“I was pretty sassy that night.”
“That night?” He laughs. “Your middle name is ‘sassy.’”
“Actually, it’s Lindel.”
“Lindel?”
“After my other grandfather.” Yep, named after both of my grandpas.
“Wow, that’s, uh, cool.” He’s doing his best not to laugh, but it’s not working.
“Shut up. What’s yours, William?”
“William Kincaid Mathers.”
“Oh, geesh.” I roll my eyes. “Of course it is, you snooty bastard.”
