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“Of course.” I curl up next to Dean and stroke his bruised cheek with my fingers. “I want you to be part of his life. We can make this work.”
“You’re moving to Philly,” he says, lifting his head from the couch. He winces in pain as he turns to face me. “I don’t even want to hear another word about your internship. You can get another one.”
“But…” Deflated, I don’t even bother to argue.
“No buts, Kitten. You are coming to live with me. Our child will have a mother and a father.”
“What about us?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What about us?”
“Do you hate me?” I bite my bottom lip, waiting for him to answer, as a beat passes between us.
“No, I could never hate you. I’m mad at you. I need you to give me some time and space to process everything.”
“Are we breaking up?”
“Were we ever together?”
“Just because you’re pissed doesn’t mean you have to act like a dick.”
He shakes me off him and gets up from the couch. “You should go back to Chicago and pack your bags.”
“But I had plans for us. I wanted to take you someplace special for your birthday.”
“What’s the point, Kat? I’m not in the celebratory mood. My face looks like I went twelve rounds with Holyfield, and I can’t even look at you without clenching my jaw, which is only making the pain even worse.”
“Oww,” I say, getting up from the couch, clutching my stomach.
Dean comes to my side and grabs my arm. “Are you okay, Kitten?”
I take his hand and move it onto my stomach, staring up at Dean. “Your baby is kicking me. I think he’s going to be a hockey player. He’s aggressive, just like his daddy.”
For the first time since I walked into the hotel room, Dean smiles at me. He bends down in front of me, holding onto my hips, and presses his cheek to my stomach. Startled, he backs up when Noah kicks again.
“Hey, Little Man,” he whispers to our son. “I’m your daddy.”
I stroke my fingers through Dean’s damp hair. He’s still wearing a towel from his shower, which has been slightly distracting me for most of our conversation. It has been too long since we were last together.
“You’re going to be an amazing father, Dean.”
He peeks up at me. “You think so?”
I nod. “I know so. Our son is lucky to have you as his dad.”
“Noah. Is that what you want to name him?”
“I like that name.”
He smiles. “Me, too. Noah Crawford. Wait until I tell my mom about her grandson. He might get her to move away from Florida.”
“She could be our babysitter. I will need help with him when you’re on the road.”
He stands, still holding onto my hips, and plants a kiss on my cheek. “We will make it work.”
“Does this mean you’re not mad at me anymore?”
“No, I’m still angry with you.” He tilts his head to the side and scratches the dark stubble along his jaw, as if deep in thought. “If you’re seven months pregnant, then you knew before we left college, didn’t you?”
