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I’ve made my decision.
If I’m pregnant, I’m keeping the baby.
Brett
I can’t stop my foot from bouncing. I have tried, but it isn’t working. My hands have that nervous twitch to them that I keep trying to shake out. It’s the usual ticks with my hands and legs right before a fight. I am always anxious to get the fight started. I would rather just get straight into it than to sit and wait.
I hate fucking waiting. I hate fucking waiting for bad fucking news, and I hate fucking waiting. Right now, I don’t feel like I am in control of anything. It’s fucking driving me insane.
We honestly have zero fucking clue if she is pregnant. It was a condom break, and most condoms have some kind of spermicide, right?
She was so fucking quiet, it drives me fucking nuts not to just walk in, pick her up, and tell her no fucking chance are we doing a plan b pill. I want a baby with her, and I mean want. I want her, too. I want her as mine. Exactly as she should be and should have been. No more of this runaway bullshit, no more of this scared to be each other’s.
She had her fucking chance to get away from me.
I am not saying I don’t understand because I had to grow the fuck up sometime and I figure she had to do what she had to do. She’s mine, mine and mine alone. No more fucking other women who get me off but can’t make me happy.
I also remember what I thought all those years ago when we thought she might be pregnant. She is going to be a fucking milf and look sexy as fuck pregnant with my babies.
Babies, not baby.
She will be lucky I don’t try to get a football team out of her.
My hand reaches for the door handle as soon as I think of her pregnant and is pushing it open when I see her come out the sliding doors.
For the fucking life of me, though, I cannot figure out her look.
Pulling my door shut, I wait for her as she gets in the truck and looks straight ahead. She doesn’t look as shocked as she does nervous now.
She continues to stare ahead and says, “If I’m pregnant I want to keep the baby.”
“Thank fucking god.”
Turning to me, she looks confused as fuck. After taking a deep breath, she bursts out with, “This is my decision, I wo
n’t pressure you into being a father.”
What the fuck? “Well, if you are pregnant then the baby is going to have his dad around. I will fight for that.”
“If.. If… If you want to be around, I won’t keep you from seeing our child.”
Snorting quietly, I shake my head, “Well I don’t think you get what I am saying. I will be the standup dad and I will be there for my child. I will also be there right alongside you with the shitty diapers.”
Sniffling, she gives me a small smile and says, “Thank you. Knowing you will be there for them makes it a little less scary.”
I have been living a hell of a life. A lot of alcohol when I could, and a fuck ton of women when I could and shouldn’t have. I have seen way too much shit to be where I am, and the only thing that keeps returning to me in my head is how much just seeing her tonight was amazing and how it was almost like fucking magic.
She’s the one for me. I cannot let her get away.
It’s been too many years between us to not have some problems, but nothing is insurmountable. Nothing cannot be fuckin’ beaten. No matter what, I don’t want to see her on weekends when I pick up our kid. I want to be in bed with her when the kid comes screaming into the bedroom crying about a nightmare. When they draw their first horse or when they go to their first homecoming dance.
I know Mandy will be the kind of woman who will be one of the most amazing mothers, and I just know I want to be there with her, sharing the love and light she will put out.
She is the light to me. She illuminates all the darkness I have inside me and the destruction I feel I put out with my hands. I can’t let her get away. I can’t. I did once. I can’t again.
“So what kind of diamond cut do you like?”
Frowning, she asks “What do you mean?”
