Now the clamminess turns to all-out sweat. It’s not just my skin that feels hot. My entire body is on fire. My eyes blaze, and my voice comes out low and harsh when I finally speak. “How could you be so irresponsible?”
Tessa lets out a long, slow breath and shakes her head. “Wow. You really are an ass.”
CHAPTER 15
Fitz
Tessa gets upfrom the table unsteadily and hobbles to the patio door.
I sweep up our papers and wrappers off the table, take them to the trash, and wave to Maria. As I rush to keep up with Tessa, who is moving at a good clip, I notice she’s going in the opposite direction from where I left Dolly.
“Hey,” I say. “Slow down. You need to watch it on that ankle.” I catch up with her in a second. A light wind sends her dark hair blowing into her face, and I feel the urge to reach out and tuck the strands behind her ear so I can see her better. But my instinct warns me against touching her.
I settle for placing a hand on her arm, and she faces me, eyes chilly and glaring. Holding up a finger, she lectures me like a stern schoolmarm. “It takes two people, you know, to be irresponsible.”
I can handle her attempt at bravado. I can even handle the news she just dropped like an atom bomb.
It’s the flicker of hurt in her eyes that guts me.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask.
“You were there that night, the same as me, and I don't think I should bear all of the blame or responsibility. You have no clue how it’s been. The exhaustion, the pain in my boobs, the worry about how I’m going to raise a child on my own. Jesus, it's always the woman who is expected to deal with everything. Not like I haven't been through enough, throwing up every morning and feeling my body turn into some sort of delivery vehicle. It’s not easy, you know.” Her voice cracks and tears well in the corners of her eyes.
I keep quiet, watching her, listening to her, taking it all in. Her words, her raw emotion, the exhaustion—it’s written all over her face.
“I didn’t even have your name, never mind a number to call. I’ve been trying to navigate without any help, and now I’m supposed to apologize when you labelmeirresponsible?”
She lets out a jagged breath, finally spent enough to pause.
I catch a tear on my thumb and gently wipe it from her cheek. “Hey. I’m sorry. That's not what I meant. I wasn't saying you’re irresponsible for getting pregnant.”
“Pretty sure that’s exactly what you said.”
“No.” I inhale a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I'm upset that you were out climbing around on a ten-foot berm in…high heels when you're carrying a baby.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders drop, and she looks genuinely surprised. “Yeah, that probably wasn’t my best idea. I didn’t plan it, if that makes it any better.”
“Slightly. Also, you did have my name. I gave you a picture of my driver’s license.”
“Yeah. I…the picture was slightly out of focus.” She frowns. “I have no defense, Your Honor. I’m still getting used to the idea that I’m carrying a baby and can’t just do what I’d normally do.”
“I’m getting my brain around the idea that climbing a hill in heels is something you’d normally do.”
She nods, then looks confused and tilts her head. “So you're fine with knowing you're going to be a dad in seven months, but you're mad that I climbed up a hill in the wrong shoes?”
My breath catches at the word “dad.” Talking about her pregnancy in the abstract was one thing, but hearing that word drives home a reality that I still need to process. Talk about not having planned something. I intentionally steered my life in the opposite direction, never wanting to be the kind of father my dad was to me. But now, the last thing I intend to be is the kind who runs away, which would be even worse.
“First of all, I’m not sure ‘fine’ is the word I’d use. ‘Shocked’ is probably closer,” I say. “Can we at least agree that you shouldn't be putting yourself in danger when you're carrying a baby? Pregnancy 101, if you ask me.”
She blows out a breath. “You're a pregnancy expert?”
“Darlin’, if you think that basic bit of advice counts as expertise, you’ve got bigger troubles than I thought.”
The sun beams down on us, and I can’t help noticing the bluebird sky. A few cars cruise by in what counts as heavy traffic after lunch. I want to point out those things even though that doesn’t make sense.
But not much makes sense right now.
She closes her eyes for a long beat as though she can’t believe we’re having this conversation. “Look, I realize we don’t know each other well, and obviously, this whole situation was unexpected…” Her forehead creases with lines. I can’t decide what hurts more, the pain etched across her face or the dawning realization that I could have a child looking up to me and expecting me to be a better man.
