“We kind of forced it out of him; he was acting all weird all day, kind of angry, so we pushed until he told us.” He shrugs. “Don’t be mad at him.”
I roll my eyes at that. “I should have known he would squeal anyway.” I look back at him, studying his features. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you should not be sitting on the floor; let’s get you up and fed.” He stands, grabbing my hands and helping me to my feet, where I quickly rinse my mouth with some of the Listerine on the counter.
He ushers me out of the bathroom and to the living room where he has me sit on the couch while he finishes dinner. My nausea seems to be taking a backseat now that the words are out. I stare at Rhett in my tiny kitchen, watching him work. I study him, trying to decipher how he is feeling. I’m scared, so it’s okay if he is too. But I want this, I want this baby. Even scarier, I want this baby with him.
He turns from the stove to look over at me, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Are you feeling okay enough to eat or should I go get you some ginger ale?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. I think I can eat.”
He nods, turning back and reaching over to my cupboard with the plates. I never noticed how well he knows my place. We’ve been doing this for so long it shouldn’t be shocking, but I like the way he looks in my space.
He brings me a plate of spaghetti, not bothering to ask me to sit at the table. I love to eat on the couch, and I love that he knows that.
He grabs himself a plate and then sits with me. “Are you going to get nervous again if I talk about a few things?” he asks with eyebrows raised.
“No, I think I would feel better if we talked more, actually.”
He looks at me, eyes warm and steady before he says, “Okay, well I want you to know no matter what, I support whatever decision you will make.”
Rhett is a good man, the best of the best. And if I could have hand-picked out the perfect dad for my kids, it would’ve been a man just like him. So hearing those words shouldn’t be surprising, but it’s a relief regardless. I instantly feel myself sag and some of the tension dissipate.
“I want to keep the baby, and I want you to stick around. I know you said you couldn’t do relationships and didn’t want kids—”
“Me not wanting anything serious has nothing to do with you at all. Aspen, you are everything I could ever want in a partner. I just, well, I have some demons in my closet and I just….” He trails off, looking down at his clasped hands as he sits next to me. “Can’t. Even now.”
I nod, unsure of what he means, but I think he is still processing everything and I’m scared to push too far into that right at this exact second.
“So where do we go from here?” I want to ask about us. I want him to want me too, but right now we need to focus on the baby.
“Well, have you made an appointment yet?” he asks.
I nod. “I’ll go on Friday for blood work and they’ll do an ultrasound in the clinic to get proper dates.”He looks puzzled.
“Dates? When do they make sure the baby is okay?”
“Oh, to figure out how far along I am. I don’t really get periods with my birth control, and when I do they’re light, so I honestly don’t know how far along I am. I think I am probably closer to six or seven weeks with how dark my test was, unless I’m cooking twins.” My brain goes off into numbers as I try to recall what I learned about pregnancy in nursing school; that feels like a different lifetime right now. I look over to Rhett again, coming back from my detour and he looks pale as a ghost. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned the possibility of twins.
“Rhett, I don’t think I am having twins; please don’t pass out.” I remember his question and tack on, “They’ll check on the singular baby we’re having probably at that first appointment; I’m not sure though. I’ve never worked in obstetrics.”
He nods, swallowing, before shaking his head. It’s amusing really, but I don’t think he would appreciate me laughing at him at this exact moment.
“Rhett, where does this leaveus?” It’s the question I’ve wanted to ask, but am terrified to find out the answer to.
“I think we’re going to have to take it one day at a time. I don’t want to rush into things because our situation has changed. Let's get through the initial shock and appointments and then we can figure out everything else.”
A true Rhett answer: logic first, feelings last. Not in a bad way; in fact, in the past I've been envious of the way his brain works,but right now, I wish he was more like me. Wore his heart on his sleeve. I want to know if that means things might change between us someday, but he doesn’t give me that answer. Not with his words, and not with his expression. I’m left in the dark, once again.
I nod. “Okay.” I can’t hide the disappointment in my face or my voice, but I can understand where he is coming from. This is big news and he probably needs to sleep on it before he knows what to do.
“What time is your appointment on Friday?” he asks.
“It’s at ten and my ultrasound is at eleven. But it’s an hour away. I didn’t want to go to Windy Peaks. People talk too much.”
He nods, understanding the small town rumor mill is the most efficient mill of all. “Okay, I’ll be here to pick you up. You should eat.”
I pick the plate back up and take a bite of spaghetti. “Better?” I ask, raising my brow.
