“I wanted to text you, but I didn’t. And now I’m pregnant, and I’ve been trying really hard to figure out if you just feel bad or if you’re actually invested in being in her life.”
“I am,” Barry said. “I’ve said that. I thought I was showing that.”
I thought about waking up to find him folded up on the couch, and the influx of healthy foods and probiotic drinks in the fridge. I could barely wrap my head around all the questions we had to discuss if we were going to co-parent a child. It was probably more than we could talk about in a whole week, all the negotiations and logistics that go into raising a tiny human. We couldn’t even scratch the surface today, but we could get one thing straight at least, and maybe that would be enough for now.
“I need to know that you aren’t going to try to take her from me,” I said.
Barry looked off into the space next to us, at the sink and the pink tile, the outdated cabinets. Junior had abandoned hope of us paying him attention and was settling onto his carpeted cat tree next to the couch. I heard his collar jingle as he did.
“I would never try to take her from you,” Barry said finally. “You can say I don’t know you, but I have no doubt that you’re going to be a great mother.”
His sincerity felt premature and unearned, but earnest. I hardly knew that I was going to be a decent parent. My family said I would be the perfect mother to the perfect child, but if Kate’s insistence on micromanaging my health was any indicator, she didn’t think I was fully up to the task of carrying this baby to term without a hitch. I was grateful for the help. It was a comfort to have someone at my appointments, and I could onlydo so much research before getting anxious—two brains were better than one—but I also didn’t know how to convince everyone that I wasn’t the mess that they thought I was. The mess I’d always been.
“I’m in this,” Barry said. “You aren’t doing this alone anymore.”
“Don’t tell Kate you thought I was doing this alone,” I whispered. “My whole family thinks our baby is like a shared entity.”
Barry laughed through his nose, and the tension loosened. We hadn’t covered everything, not even close, but it was a start, at least. I’d said something honest and felt somewhat convinced that Barry’s intentions were pure.
“I’ll drop any talk of romancing you.” He held one hand up and the other over his heart, and I couldn’t help but smile. “You have my word.”
“Good,” I said. “Great.”
“But if you start falling for me, it’s not my fault.”
“Right,” I said in a tone I hoped translated to not gonna happen. I sounded much more confident than I felt about this.
I stood again from the stool, ready to call the conversation to a close so he could go back to watching his little hockey clips. I was already hungry, though, and headed for the fridge first for another yogurt where I found stacks of Tupperware, some with the same salad he’d been eating, others with what looked like spaghetti and meatballs, and asparagus?
“What’s this?” I was under the impression that the team chefs fed him like two times a day.
“Meal prep. I made them while you were out. They’re split up in servings so you can just reheat it when you’re hungry. Quick meal.”
“For me?” I pulled out a spaghetti one, tentatively taking off the lid and peering at the contents inside. Even cold it smelled delicious.
“Course.” Barry looked up from unwinding his headphones. “I know you can feed yourself, but I told you, I’m in this.”
My heart constricted at the sight of all the food in the fridge, single servings packed with care for us.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Sure.” Barry unlocked his iPad and went back to work, though not yet wearing the earphones. His kindness made me feel both thankful and inadequate. Like I had done nothing for him other than provide stress and sup-optimal sleeping arrangements. The baby gave a hearty kick as if in agreement; she was already on his side.
“Barry,” I said, and his attention fell back on me immediately. When I didn’t go on, he quirked an eyebrow. I clicked my tongue against my teeth and stepped way closer into his personal space than was advisable. His eyes went wide, and I was already too far into this to stop now. “Give me your hand.”
Tentatively, he put his hand in mine. I pulled it to my stomach, my face surely flaming red as I pushed his palm against me. He held his breath as I pressed it firmly against the spot she’d just kicked, and within a moment, sure enough, she kicked again.
Barry exhaled a puff of air, and an astounded smile spread over his face. I moved his hand lower, to the bottom of my stomach, where he felt her moving again.
“Our baby,” he said, then laughed. He brought his other hand to the opposite side of my bump, and the sight of both large palms on my pregnant belly was doing weird things to my hormones. Like making me feel gooey, possessive, and horny all at once. “There she is.”
I let out my own light laugh. “Yeah.”
Ours.
“Thank you, Hannah.” He shook his head back and forth, same awed expression telling me it was as unbelievable to him as it felt to me.
“You’re welcome.”
