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“Christ, I hope not.”
My heart flipped. “You want a girl?”
“I just don’t want anything remotely like me,” he replied, and his honesty broke me. “Let it be all you, and I’ll be happy.”
“I do,” I replied. “Want it to be like you, that is.”
He paused to glare at me. “Be serious, Molloy.”
“What?” I argued back. “You’re loyal, you’re strong, you’re athletic, you’re talented, you’re beautiful.” I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I want our baby to be like you?”
“Because I’m a fuckup.”
I smirked. “Only some of the time.”
“Oh, that’s alright then,” he shot back, tone laced with sarcasm. “If it’s just some of the time.”
“Not to mention the fact that you’re way smarter than me.”
He snorted. “You’re crazy.”
“You’re probably the smartest guy in our year, and if you had been born into any other family, you’d be in the brainiac class with Kev and the other swots.”
“I’m barely hanging on in school, Aoife,” he ground out, looking flustered. “I’m passing my classes by the skin of my teeth.”
“But you’re passing, which is exactly my point,” I reiterated. “Because if Kev, or Paul, or anyone else in our year had to deal with what you do on the daily, I guarantee you that they would crumble,” I replied. “Deny it all you want, but there’s one hell of a sharp mind inside that thick skull of yours,” I mused, as I coated my baby toe with one final layer of nail varnish before resealing the bottle. “Now.” Smiling sweetly up at him, I leaned back on my elbows and wiggled my toes. “Blow.”
Joey looked at me like I had grown an extra head. “You are fucking crazy if you think I’m blowing on your toes.”
“Come on, Joe,” I whined, toes still wiggling. “I’m pregnant.”
“So?” he shot back, looking personally insulted.
“I don’t want the polish to smudge.”
“Then don’t smudge it.”
“Blow.”
“No.”
“Blow on my toes.”
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“Joey Lynch.”
“Aoife Molloy.”
“You said you’d be there for me.”
“As your boyfriend and the father of your baby,” he spluttered, throwing his hands up. “Not as your personal fucking groomer.”
“There were no stipulations spoken when you made your promises,” I argued. “Now come here and blow me.”
“That’s my line.”
“It won’t ever be again if you don’t do this for me.”
