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“Weird, right?” I ask, trying to gauge how he’s feeling now that we’ve confirmed the pregnancy is viable.
“Very.”
“You know we haven’t really talked about our feelings about all this. Shouldn’t we do that?”
His brows scrunch together and he glances up at me. “I’ve tried to bring it up this week but you never seem to be interested in that conversation.”
“Yes, well, I just heard my baby’s heart fluttering, so take the sentimentality for what it is. I, for one, am really happy, first and foremost. Second to that is a healthy dose of fear, but overall, I want this. You and I aren’t going the traditional route, obviously, but if I had to pick a father for my child, you’re it. You’ll be wonderful at this. Look how much you care about it already. You don’t let me leave the house without like ten snacks in my bag! Today you cut up oranges and packed them in Tupperware for me. You’re a soccer dad in the making.”
He laughs and loops his hand around the back of my neck so he can tug me forward to kiss my forehead. “I’m really happy too.”
I’m careful to tamp down the excitement swelling in my chest.
“I think you and I will make really good co-parents.”
“Co-parents?” he asks, like the phrase confuses him.
“Yes. I mean, if…”
“If what?”
“Our relationship doesn’t work out. I just mean…I really don’t want to pressure you into being with me just because of this baby. I don’t want us to be together out of a sense of duty. You know, the whole guilt-infested scenario of getting your best friend’s sister knocked up and now you have to do the right thing…thing.”
His eyes are suddenly piercing and hard to meet.
“Don’t do that. I’ve never once acted like I was with you out of guilt. And by the way, I’m no saint. If I didn’t want to be with you, I’d be honest about that. This is a surprise, sure, but we both want it. It’s a good thing, a happy thing,” he says before helping me down off the table.All those flowery words in the exam room hit home for me later, when I arrive back at the townhouse after a run to find all my things transplanted out of the guest house and into Connor’s room. My pillows litter his bed. My toothbrush sits on the bathroom counter. Logically, I know these are minor, trivial things, but emotionally, it feels like Connor just slipped a ring on my finger. Even though I’ve been sleeping in his bed every night for the last few weeks, I’ve purposely been keeping my things in the guest house. A sort of forced physical separation. A reminder to myself of how temporary this might be.
Apparently, that’s not the case anymore.
I find Connor in the kitchen, sitting at the table with his laptop. He spies me over the screen as I walk directly toward him and drop my hands on the table, leaning over.
Before I can speak, he beats me to the chase. “If this is about your pillows, I don’t really want to hear it.”
My jaw drops.
“Yeah. Temperatures are going to drop soon. Not to sound like a Stark, but winter is coming and I don’t like the idea of you staying out in the guest house. That heating unit doesn’t look very good.”
“Noah never had an issue with it. I’ve slept out there for years.”
In truth, on bitterly cold nights I usually opt to sleep in the guest room, but I’m not about to tell Connor that right now.
“I don’t care, Natalie.”
He continues typing.
“You can’t bulldoze me like this. You should have asked me.”
“I’ll ask you to move in with me when the renovations are complete on my townhouse. How’s that?”
My eyes widen.
That is not what I was expecting him to say.
“This is all…I mean…we were only fooling around before and now everything is moving incredibly fast. We should take a beat and really think about what we’re doing here.”
“You’re scared.”
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“You changing your mind.”
“About the baby?” He seems almost offended by the notion.
I look away. “No. About me.”
I feel tears welling in my eyes, and I think the emotional toll of the last few weeks is catching up with me.
“I think, maybe, I just need a second. You know? To fully realize all these changes.”
He pushes away from the table and stands so he can come around and hook his arm around my waist.
“You want to pump the brakes?”
“Not pump, just…maybe tap them a little?”
His eyes dance back and forth between mine. He’s searching for something, but I don’t know what he’s hoping to find. Everything is all right there: adoration, fear, excitement. He nods and presses a kiss to my cheek.
“Of course.” Then he sits back down to continue working. “Take as much time as you need.”
