“Yeah, I can. It’s not like I’m asking for a huge commitment or anything.”Again, not immediately.“I just want to be part of this—and I want to be with you through this. Shoulder the responsibility in all the ways that I can.”
With a sigh, she slides her gaze to the gray, cold garden. So I pull out my trump card.
“The house has a self-contained apartment. You could stay there.”Though I’d rather you stay in my bed.“You could work. Or not. And we could hang out, get to know each other. After all, we’ve a lifetime to be together.”
“A lifetime?” Her gaze slides back slowly, her expression unreadable.
“Our child’s life,” I answer quickly.
Fatherhood. It’s something I always assumed I’d get to experience, though the details were hazy beyond that fact. I suppose even after Ryan told me, I don’t think I took it all in. It didn’t truly become real until I heard our child’s heartbeat. Everything changed then because there was power in that sound, something ancient and inevitable pulling at me. Probably the weight of responsibility, but the sense of it felt—feels—so right.
“Last night, I spent a long time staring at that grainy image.” The ultrasound. “I had a glass of whiskey in one hand and all this ... feeling inside me.”
“It’s a lot, I know.”
“I wasn’t overwhelmed, unless there’s such a thing as a surfeit of happiness. I was feckin’ swimming in the stuff.” I give my head a tiny shake at the admission. “But then I thought about you notbeing here. Me not being with you. With both of you. I came to a decision. And that’s if you can’t be here, then I’ll need to be there.” And I mean that. I don’t know how it’ll work, except that it’ll be a lot of fucking work. A lot of travel—a home in one country and a business in another—but I’ll do it if I have to because I want this.
“There? You mean in New York?”
“I know we’re not together, but I’ll do what it takes to be part of this. I’ll need a while to sort everything out, but if you’re leaving Monday, then expect me to follow.”
Unless Fin and Oliver kill me first.
“I won’t be able to offer you anywhere to stay,” she says with a watery laugh. “I haven’t even found a place for myself yet.”
“Do you want to go back?”
Her pause. That’s my answer.
“So stay. With me. Until ...” Something in her expression says I’ve gone as far as I can with that. “Until whatever. Just give me this time. We can sort the logistics of later out ... later.”
“I can’t believe you would do that.”
“I’ll do what it takes. But also, for what it’s worth, I know a good employment lawyer. There might be something you could do with Theta, and it would be easier if you were here for that.” I haven’t even finished speaking before she begins shaking her head.
“I don’t want to be anyplace where they don’t want me. Where they don’t appreciate me.”
Good for her. “But there might still be something in it for you. An unfair-dismissal claim might mean money. A payout.”
“Screw them. I want nothing from Theta. I don’t even want to see their name on my résumé.”
“Fair enough.” I lift my pastry and take a bite. I’m sure in other circumstances it would taste amazing. But right now, I might as well be chewing sawdust, because all I want to do is experience the softness of her fluffy sweater. Maybe rub my face across it.BeforeI take it off.Run my fingers through her silky hair.Before I wrap it around my fist.
I’ve heard of pregnancy hormones increasing a woman’s sex drive but not that they’re meant to make the dad a horny fucker. I doubt pregnancy porn qualifies as anecdotal evidence, not that I’ve partaken. Not that it stops my thoughts from turning dirtily in on themselves.
Hey, darlin’. How would you feel about watching some dirty movies on my flat-screen mirror this evening?
Fuck, I’m definitely losing my marbles.
“I’ll pay you rent.”
My head snaps up at the sound of her voice, her words bypassing my brain and affecting my body immediately. Happy confetti bursting in my chest! I just about restrain myself from offering her a fist bump.
“Rent,” she repeats, her expression firm. “Which makes me yourtenant.”
“You can pay me if you want. I’ll put that money aside for Matt Junior.” Next thing, I’m picking a raspberry out of my hair. “Or Matilda,” I say, putting it in my mouth. “I’m open to either. Unless you prefer Pierre.”
She gives a soft, husky laugh as, this time, the raspberry hits my forehead.
