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“Well, technically ,you’re being an ass.” He grabbed at his stuff and yanked it off my desk, but he’d missed part of the stack and spilled papers on the floor. I stooped to help him pick them up as he said, “I don’t deny there’s something going on between us, but that doesn’t give you any right to order me about.”
His tirade went on, but I had frozen. The paper I held was a receipt for a doctor. For an obstetrician. With a note about an ultrasound scheduled the next week. My brain logged all the details I was too stunned to process at the moment. Suddenly, his voice went silent, and I looked into his wide eyes.
“Michael, are you pregnant?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Michael
“I...I was going to tell you,” I stammered, tears already forming in my eyes. I was, too. I had even picked up a stupid invitation at the drugstore when getting the iron supplement I was told I needed. I filled it out as if it were a party, only it was to the ultrasound. It wasn’t the big ultrasound, and it was unlikely they’d be able to tell the gender, but they had offered an early peek and I jumped. Who wouldn’t want a chance to see their baby growing inside them?
Not that my intentions, or even my actions, meant two shits now. He was already livid, his eyes holding contempt I’d not thought him capable of.
“When?” He took three steps forward, stopping when his eyes met mine. “When were you going to tell me?” His anger was just as palpable, but his voice lowered slightly. He must have seen the fear in my eyes and misinterpreted it as fear of him. He’d said I would always be safe with him and I knew it to be true, physically. My fear was that I’d messed up so royally that there was nothing that could fix this. I was officially Humpty Dumpty.
“As soon as I got the courage.” Tears were flowing. I wanted to be strong. To take the consequences for my actions with dignity. But I couldn’t hold it together long enough to do so.
“The courage. The fucking courage.” And his anger was front and center again. “This says you’re at fourteen weeks gestation.” He waved the paper in front of me. “That means…” He raked his hands through his hair, taking a step back until he was leaning against his desk. “Fuck…you were pregnant when you moved here.”
“Yes,” I squeaked out. How I was still standing was beyond me. I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. My knees were all for this plan, wobbling like they’d collapse any minute.
“And yet you are just telling me now.” He closed his eyes, inhaling and exhaling heavily. I did this to him. I took the strong, confident, sexy man and turned him into one so upset he needed to follow school-boy strategies for cooling down. I was an asshat.
“I was scared.” It was an accurate, yet unacceptable, excuse by anyone’s measure.
“Scared of what?” He opened his eyes, watching my reaction to his question. “The truth?”
“Scared of losing you.” That I had anyway went unspoken.
“Turns out that was a good thing to be scared of since that is exactly what you got.” He strode around his desk, taking a seat behind it. His posture telling me we were done. The conversation and the relationship both over.
“You don’t mean that.” My voice quavered. I knew very well that he meant it with all that he was.
“I don’t mean that?” He shook his head at the insanity of my words. “Michael, you of all people should know I say exactly what I mean. That may be hard for you to grasp considering the way you tuck away key information from the people it matters most to.”
“I deserve that.” And so much more.
“Yes, Michael. Yes, you do.” He was no longer looking at me and instead began to work on whatever he was doing before I walked in. I stood still, refusing to leave even though his intent that I go couldn’t be clearer. I could wait him out, though. I had to. This was important. He was important. Even if I didn’t treat him as such.
Finally, he caved and began to speak again. “How long did you think you could hide this from me? Did you think I wouldn’t notice your belly swelling with your child? My child?”
The hurt in his eyes crushed me. He had never once treated me as anything less than important, and I had treated him like garbage. His hurt was thrown at him, by me. This wasn’t a fight where we were both kind of wrong. This was 100 percent my fault. And yet, when he said “my child,” my heart allowed in a bit of hope.
“You want the baby?”
“It doesn’t look like I have a choice. Last I checked, you took that away from me by waiting until you were out of the first trimester before so kindly dropping a paper so I could discover you were pregnant.”
No. No. No. No. No. He couldn’t be saying what I thought he was saying. Not Porter. Not the one I know.
“You don’t mean… You wouldn’t...” I couldn’t even bring myself to say the words.
“You have no idea what I would or wouldn’t, and you never will because you hid this from me.” I could no longer see his face through my tears. Tears I’d earned in the worst way possible. “Hid my child from me. A child I had no decision about bringing into this world.”
“You were there when I got pregnant.” Because lashing out was going to make things better. I wanted to kick myself the moment the words left my mouth.
“And I used a condom. How do I know you didn’t plan this?”
“Get real, jackass.” I allowed hostility to take over my sorrow. Not because it was legit, but because we both knew he didn’t think for a second I planned a baby with a one-night stand. I held onto the anger because if I didn’t, I was going to collapse on the floor, incapable of doing normal things like standing and walking. “It was your condom, and you were the one who put it on.”
