“Are you keeping it?”
“Yes, I’m keeping it. I know you might not want it, but I do. I want this baby.”
“No. Let me rephrase that. It’s not a question. You’re not keeping it.”
I flinch, narrowing my eyes at his cold expression. “I am keeping it. I’ll sign whatever you want, saying I won’t come afteryou for money, child support, or anything. I won’t even put your fucking name on the birth certificate, but I thought I was doing the nice thing by giving you the chance to know your child. This child is mine, and mine alone.” This time, I stand successfully.
“I want it in writing.”
“Fine,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“Right now.” He points at the chair.
He’s seriously about to make me do this here?
“Are you kidding me?”
“Sit.”
I scoff, narrowing my eyes. Who does he think he is, ordering me around like this?
He wasn't this big an asshole on those three dates. Apparently, news like this changes a person, and not always for the better. I never expected him to want anything to do with me, but I thought maybe he might have some interest in being a father. Apparently not.
I sit, throwing my hands up. “I need paper if you want it in writing.”
Jude whistles for the waitress. “I need a pen and paper now.”
Fucking rude asshole.
The waitress’s eyes widen, and she scurries off.
“I don’t want your money,” I say. “I didn’t even know you had money.”
Why can’t I stop talking? Maybe I’m trying to make it better. Who knows?
He rolls his eyes and taps his fingers against the table. “Right. As if you didn’t look me up.”
“I didn’t!”
I’d look him up now, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not worth any more time than necessary. The waitress rushesback to the table with a pen and a blank sheet of white paper.
Jude snatches it from her, scrambling to write. I apologize to her, and before she can dart away, I stop her. “Can you get me my check and put my food in a to-go box, please?”
“Of course,” she sweetly replies.
Jude doesn’t acknowledge me for the next few minutes. When he’s finished, he thrusts the paper and pen across the table. “Sign it.”
I take my time reading through his terms, making sure there’s no hidden bullshit. He really just wants nothing to do with the baby or me. I guess it is what it is.
I sign my name and date it. “I need a copy.”
That’s the responsible thing to do, but I’ll ensure my child never sees it. They’ll never know the lengths their sperm donor went to in the hopes of erasing them from existence.
Jude waves, and when none of the servers acknowledge him, he leaves the table. Five minutes later, he comes back with a copy for me. The waitress is back with my food and bill, and I pay her in cash, leaving a decent tip since she has to deal with this asshole for the rest of his meal.
I face him one last time. “Have the life you deserve.”
And I walk away, taking a deep breath and feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. Some part of me knew Jude wouldn’t want this baby, but I never guessed he would have reacted like this.
