He’s wrong. I’ve avoided dancing my entire adult life, too self-conscious to move my body while people watched. But his hands are warm on my waist, and the music is swelling around us, and somehow my body starts swaying.
We dance through three songs, then four. He spins me, mindful of my belly, and catches me when I stumble. By the fifth song, I’m laughing.
“See?” He grins down at me. “Not so bad.”
The concert ends and we walk along the waterfront, fingers intertwined, not ready for the night to be over. He buys me ice cream from a vendor and doesn’t comment when I get chocolate on my nose. I steal bites of his pistachio and don’t apologize.
This is what it could be like, I think. This is what I could have, if I let myself.
We find a bench overlooking the water, and the bay stretches out before us, reflecting the lights. A few sailboats bob in the distance, their masts swaying.
When Antonio speaks, his voice is almost tentative. It’s not a tone I hear from him often.
“Can I ask you something?”
I turn to look at him. “Depends on what it is.”
“At the hospital, you said you were scared to tell me about the pregnancy. You never told me why.”
The ice cream suddenly feels heavy in my stomach. I set the half-eaten cone in the trash beside the bench and wipe my hands on a napkin.
“I was scared you’d think I did it on purpose,” I admit. “And I knew your views on abortion. I needed to make the best decision for myself without someone else’s beliefs clouding what I wanted.” I hold his gaze. “If I told you before I’d decided, I was afraid your opinion would become part of the equation. And it couldn’t be. This had to be my choice.”
He’s quiet for a long moment before he says, “I understand.”
“And then there’s Meesha.” My voice wavers. “She’s your family, but she and Jessa are the only family I have.”
His hand tightens around mine.
“I kept imagining what would happen if I told you and things went badly. If you accused me of lying, or demanded lawyers get involved, or just... wanted nothing to do with me.” I take a shaky breath. “And I’d lose them too.”
He brings our joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles. The gesture is tender.
“I don’t think you got pregnant on purpose,” he says against my skin. “And Jessa and Meesha would never have chosen my side over yours. They love you.”
“I know it sounds dramatic. But when you’ve never had a family, the thought of losing the closest thing you’ve found to one...” I trail off, unable to finish the sentence.
He shifts on the bench, angling his body toward mine. “I’m scared, too.”
I look up at him, surprised.
“My father has never been faithful to any one woman, and I’ve never been in a relationship before. I don’t want to mess this up, or ever hurt you.”
“Just because your father is a philanderer doesn’t mean you’ll be one.” I squeeze his hand. “You’re not your father, any more than I am my mother.” I meet his eyes. “You told me once that people who worry about being something horrible don’t do those horrible things. I’m telling you the same thing now.
“I needed to hear that.” His reaches up and traces the curve of my ear with a single finger. “I can’t so much as look at another woman, and I don’t want to either.” His eyes hold mine. “I have everything I need right here.”
My throat tightens. My eyes burn with unshed tears. If I speak, I might cry.
I lean forward and kiss him instead. His lips are soft, tasting faintly of pistachio ice cream. The kiss is slow, and I pour everything unsaid into it.
“I should probably get you home,” he says against my lips.
“Probably,” I agree.
Too soon, we’re back at my apartment building. Antonio walks me to my door.
“Thank you for tonight,” I say. “It was perfect.”
