Page 32 of A Really Bad Idea

“I know what I said about starting a family, but part of me hates putting my life on hold. At this rate, I’ll be fifty by the time my kid is old enough to toss a ball with me in the backyard. If we do this, we can have everything we’ve ever wanted. The baby can live here with you, and I’ll be available every free moment I have. If you want a weekend away, I’m here, and if you need anything, I’m here.”

His face is laced with excitement and fear. I don’t know if he realizes what he’s saying.

I try to bring him back down to reality. “You’d be a father.”

“I know. And I’ll help financially.”

“I don’t want your money.”

He grabs my chin and pulls it toward him. His hard stare looks into mine with absolute conviction. “Do you honestly think I wouldn’t provide for my flesh and blood? It might not be ideal or the picture-perfect life you have in mind, but haven’t you already learned that life doesn’t go exactly as planned? Meadow, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. If I were to choose anyone to be the mother of my child, it would be you.”

My heart is beating a million beats per minute. My stomach is doing flips. His words are exciting and unconventional and making me seriously consider his proposal. Can I really have a baby with my best friend?

“This is a lot. Today has been a lot.” I try to distance myself from him, but he’s still holding on to my face and my hand, and part of me likes it.

“You’re right.” His breathing comes out harsh yet controlled.

He lowers his hands from me, and I instantly feel the loss of their searing heat.

There’s an odd energy in the air. It’s still sizzling, yet the silence we’re giving each other is stifling.

Christian rubs his thighs a few times before getting up and grabbing his sweatshirt. “I’m gonna head home.”

I look at his full glass on the table. “You didn’t touch your drink.”

He glances at it, sober. “I know.” He unhooks the chain from the door and unlocks the dead bolt. He opens the door and then turns around. “Did I scare you?”

I laugh. My hand flies to my mouth as I nod my head and stand up. “A little. Having a baby together is a crazy idea. Are you now realizing that it’s insane?”

I’m laughing. He’s not.

“It’s crazy, but I want it. With you.” He puffs out his chest with an inhale he doesn’t seem to let go. “Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

He closes the door, and I’m left standing in my living room, wondering what the hell just happened. I take his drink and down it, feeling the simmer shoot through my entire body.

Facing the window, I look out into my park and at the lights from the section of Bethesda Terrace and the fountain in which I’ve laid my hopes and dreams.

And I’m wondering why the idea of having Christian’s baby doesn’t scare me in the least. The only thing I’m scared of is him regretting it.

It’s been a week since Christian made his proclamation in my living room. His insemination proclamation. Since then, I’ve had a follow-up with Dr. Abbot for a physical, sonogram, and to go over my blood work. We’ve discussed the options, but I haven’t made any decisions.

While I haven’t seen or heard from Christian, as he’s been in the hospital all week with back-to-back surgeries—not that I’m keeping tabs—I wonder if he’s been avoiding me. It’s understandable. I knew that, once he got a good night’s sleep, he’d realize he’d made a colossal mistake, and now, he’s most certainly praying that I didn’t take him seriously.

“Good news!” Angela chimes from the front desk. Her black scrubs are as dark as her almond-shaped eyes. “I slept over at Denny’s house last night, and he didn’t send my toothbrush packing.”

“One small step for man, one giant leap for your relationship.” I hand her a small stack of folders.

“I’m going to up the ante. Should I go with deodorant or shampoo?” She taps a pen to her lips.

“I’d slow down at the toothbrush for a minute. You don’t want to push your luck.”

“True.” Her shoulders sag as she falls back into her swivel chair. “Plus, I’d probably have to switch to a hemp body wash, and my skin is just not ready for the oil.”

Her words catch me off guard. “Hemp?”

“Yeah, Denny only believes in cannabidiol products.”

“Interesting,” I say slowly.