Page 36 of My Ex’s Dad

I force another swallow, hating the rawness of my throat. It’s tender from rushing out here without a scarf, hat, or even a coat. That’s how unsettled I was, desperate for a test and an answer to my suspicions. Now it burns from the nausea that overpowered me. And after the shock of that test, it was all just too much.

Puking on a sidewalk is never anyone’s finest moment. This embarrassment is the least of my concerns though.

“Easy,” Anton coaxes, rubbing my back.

He’s still holding on to me. Or rather, he’s holding me up. Curled over, breathing through this spell, clinging to the open flap of his overcoat, I open my eyes.

No.

Nothing about this will be easy.

Nothing about this is even processed or settled in my mind yet.

But I will not be counting on him. Not to hold me up and keep my hair from my face after I puked. Not to rub my back and offer me basic comfort.

I jerk up, nearly headbutting him in the chin with the top of my head. He leans out of the way, as if he anticipated me being this skittish and jerky.

“Easy,” he repeats.

Because of course he’d tell me that. Of course. He’s used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

He’s not the boss of me, though, just like that asshole at the bakery.

Ignoring the order to go easy, I shrug him off and wriggle out of his embrace.

“Liliana—”

“No.” I thrust my hand out, not only to ward him off but to regain my balance. “What—” I push out another deep exhale, dizzy from the quick rise after crouching over. “What are you even doing here?”

He stands close, his brow furrowed as he watches me. “I came to see you.”

Now?

After all this time?

On the precise day that I find out I’m pregnant with his child?

“I overheard you on the phone and…” He shakes his head, like he’s both annoyed and too uncomfortably vulnerable to explain anything. “I wanted to see you.” He licks his lips and huffs. His breath fogs in the air, reminding me of how cold it is, as if I could forget. “I want to see you.”

The correction matters. Wanted versus want. Not past tense, as though I could’ve been on his mind since he left me in bed sleeping all those weeks ago. But present tense. Like he’s eager to have me in his life again. And if he wants me now, currently, that means he’ll need to know that he’s knocked me up. I’m not even able to process that yet, let alone tell him.

I blink fast, the cold air stinging my eyes. My mouth opens and closes as I search for something, anything, to say.

This is all too new.

Too sudden.

Too big a secret to keep and still look like a functional adult capable of speech.

I’m surprised to see him at all. But crossing paths with him today, when I’m so nervous about what it means to be pregnant and carrying his child, I’m at a loss for a single word to say.

“I heard your voice and something clicked. I needed to see you.”

I shoot my hand up, letting those pieces snap together. “Wait.”

He frowns, watching me, maybe alarmed I might throw up again. The unspoken question is right there on his handsome face. He’s wondering why I did, itching to ask what’s going on. But I can’t allow that.

“You heard me.” I narrow my eyes, thinking back to how that could be. Replaying the day, I fly through the conversation with Jenni in the office, then Margarita suggesting I nap. Then my math, counting back the days until I bolted out of the bakery for a test.