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My life will never be the same again. And Bennett will always be a part of it.
My tongue thickens in my mouth, and I try to swallow past it. Everything is going to change now, and I need to be ready for that. A weird, almost panicky burning hits the center of my chest. It makes it feel like I’m inhaling a lungful of fire with each breath. I reach up to wipe it away only it’s not going anywhere.
“Bennett…”
“It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you. I know, and I’ve got you.”
“You’re shaking,” I note, needing to focus on anything other than this feeling.
He holds me tighter. “I’m so fucking happy we’re pregnant, but every time I close my eyes, I see you on that floor,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I can’t take it, Katy. I can’t have anything happen to you. Not just because we’re pregnant now. You hear me?”
I nod against him. “I’m sorry,” I croak.
He kisses my head before pulling back and wiping the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs. For a long moment, he stares into my eyes, and everything starts to shift and move. Into place or out of sync, I can’t tell which. He leans in and presses his lips to mine, so gently, so tenderly, so reverently it steals my breath. His hands thread through my hair, and he holds me as he deepens it, parting my lips and tickling my tongue with his.
All too soon it’s done and he’s pulling back, and part of me wonders if that’ll be the last time he kisses me. Can I handle it if it is?
“Can I take you home now?” Another swipe of his thumb across my cheek.
“What about your shift? What time is it?”
“It’s noon. I had Dr. Wilson cover my shift. I told him I had a family emergency and that I’d pick up half of his on Saturday.”
“Bennett—”
His flinty gaze cuts to mine. “Don’t argue with me, Katy. No one knows I’m here with you, and I’ll have your uncle wheel you out, but I want to take you home.”
“Okay,” I relent because I’d like to go home too. I need a shower and to sleep for a hundred years. My heart quakes in my chest as more tears fall. “I’m really pregnant?”
“You’re really pregnant.” He puts his hand over my lower belly. “We have a lot to talk about.”
We do. A lot to talk about. And a lot is about to change between us. I went from possibly planning to move out to now living with Bennett at least until the baby is six months old. That’s a long time to live with him.
My gut sinks at that thought, but I don’t dwell on it. Not now. Not when I’m so fucking happy, I could burst.
“You need to talk,” I tell my uncle as he wheels me out toward the ambulance bay. I remember once when I was just coming to live with him, and he brought me here, and Layla hung out with me in the ambulance bay and braided my hair because I refused to go inside the hospital. I didn’t know how to talk to my uncle at the time, but Layla had been through the same hell as I had, and she understood my pain.
I remember thinking I could make it through not having my parents if I had Layla, and my uncle made it so that I did. Now I’m starting to think that I could make it through this if I have Bennett.
But what does that even mean?
Yes, I know I care a lot for Bennett. I do have feelings for him. I have all along.
I’m in a unique position where I don’t have to put my child—or myself—through the tumult of heartbreak and separation of ending something romantic with their father. My baby can be born into a clean world where its parents are amicable, their relationship is solely parental and platonic, and there is no angst or resentment as part of the equation to divert focus from them.
I can do that for my kid.
And I need to.
Falling in love with Bennett isn’t an option.
Even when he holds me just right, kisses my face, wipes my tears, and tells me he wants to take care of me. He’s a good man, and that’s the sort of thing good men do. He’ll be a great dad, which fills my heart with so much warmth, I’m overflowing with it.
It’ll be fine. Hell, it’ll be fucking great.
“I’m happy for you. So happy, Katy.”
“You’re quiet.”
