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"Well, it’s just I want a baby, and I want you to be the father," she blurted out.
My head shot up. I looked at Sophie, who sat across from me still chewing on her bread as if she had just told me who won the hockey game on Friday night. I swallowed hard, not sure I believed what I had just heard.
"Did you hear me?" she asked, waving her hand in front of my face.
"You—you aren't getting any younger, and you...you want my swimmers?" That was all I could get out before I felt a searing hot pain in the hand that was holding onto the loaf of bread. I glanced down and saw blood starting to soak into the white napkin I was using to hold onto the bread with.
"Shit," I mumbled, pulling my hand towards me.
"Oh my God, Chase." Sophie jumped up and grabbed her napkin and my hand and quickly pressed the napkin against the cut, gently but firmly squeezing. She held it for a couple of seconds, and then pulled the napkin away to inspect the cut. I sat there not knowing what to say or do, completely shocked at what she had just blurted out. "It's okay. I don't think you need stitches or anything. Just hold the napkin tight, and the bleeding should stop," she said, continuing to examine my hand.
"You want my swimmers?" I mumbled, completely forgetting about the cut on my hand.
As the waitress approached our table, Sophie asked for a band-aid, and I raised my glass, signaling for another Crown and Coke. Hell, at this point, they could just bring me the entire bottle of Crown. My appetite had fled after what Sophie had asked, but I sure as hell needed to get loaded.
I couldn't believe my ears. Sophie, the girl who had told me no all those years ago, now wanted...a baby...my baby. I felt like I was going to faint. I swallowed hard. "Why me?"
"Well, honestly, I'm thirty, and there is absolutely no one on the horizon for even a date, never mind a relationship that would lead to a baby anytime soon. Second, I've known you all my life. I'm comfortable with you. You have a good work ethic, you’re smart, not to mention attractive. You are caring, kind, and considerate, and I seriously can't think of a better father for my child." She let out a deep breath and brought her glass to her lips.
"I see."
The waitress appeared carrying our food and set our meals down in front of us. The craving I'd had all day for bacon-wrapped filet mignon smothered in onions and mushrooms was now long gone. I stared down at the perfectly cooked steak, my mind spinning in circles, while Sophie was busy cutting a piece of steak into bite-sized pieces. She popped a piece into her mouth, the nervous look now gone as she chewed. I didn't know what to say. I felt as if I were in the middle of a very bad dream.
I had no idea how long I had sat there watching her eat, but the next thing I knew, she had cleared her plate while mine was still full and getting cold.
"Are you okay? Aren't you going to eat?" she asked, looking a bit worried.
I picked up my glass of Crown and Cola and took a large drink. I shook my head and set the glass back down. "I'm not really all that hungry," I mumbled.
She nodded and pulled the napkin from her lap, moved her plate to the side, and placed her arms on the table. "Well, now that I have laid everything out, do you have an answer for me?" Her eyes filled with hope.
I looked at her. She was expecting an answer right now? It was as if she had asked me to pick something up from the store for her, not give her a baby. I let out a breath, looking down at my plate, and then at my napkin-swaddled hand.
"I'll have to think about it, Sophie. This is a big decision, and one I am not going to take lightly."
The excitement in her eyes had disappeared and was now replaced with disappointment, and I certainly didn't like seeing it; however, there was no way I could just commit to something like this.
"Sir, was there something wrong with your meal?" our waitress asked as she picked up Sophie's plate.
I shook my head, afraid to speak.
"Would you like that plate boxed up?" the waitress asked as she dropped our bill on the table.
I nodded. As soon as she had cleared our plates away, I reached for the check folder, but Sophie grabbed it first. "I'll get this," she said and opened the folder.
"No, give it to me please," I insisted, holding my hand out, but she shook her head and slid her credit card into the slot and set it beside her at the edge of the table. She kept her head down, ignoring me, and sifted through her purse.
We sat in silence, Sophie going through her purse, and me thinking about how I could have done things differently. It seemed to take forever, but finally the bill had been paid, and I now sat with my takeover package in front of me. Sophie quickly put her credit card back into her wallet and stood. "When can I expect to hear from you?" she questioned.
I thought for a second. I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship, so I answered with the first thing that came to my mind. "Next week?"
She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, smiled shyly at me, and turned and walked away. I sat back down at the table, trying to grasp what the hell had just happened. I was at a loss for words and really wasn't sure I should get behind the wheel.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed Hunter's number. It was almost eight. I knew he was probably putting the kids to bed, but I needed my brother. The phone rang five times before an out-of-breath Hunter answered. "Hey, man, what's going on?"
"Hey, listen, can you come pick me up?"
"Ah, why? Is everything okay?"
