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I unlock my phone by clicking on the oldest message and letting Face ID open it up, since I have a passcode now because of Landon, then read down the list of messages.
Presley Anne:I know it’s prom night and you’re probably busy, but I wanted you to be the first to know that I had Kylar tonight, or last night, I guess, since it’s after midnight.
Presley Anne:Konnor delivered her in our bed. Long story. But it couldn’t have been more perfect if I’d imagined all this when I was in middle school. She’s beautiful. Has a head full of black hair. I hope she retains the color. We’re at the hospital now. I’m so in love with her.
Presley Anne:Oh, don’t worry about coming until you get done with finals. You’re so close to summer break I’d rather you wait and stay longer when you come. I’m going to need a comfort from home while I adjust, and we both know Mom has a limit. Besides, I’m sure she’ll board a flight the second I tell her. I’ll just spam you with photos until you can see her for yourself. Summer in Miami? Love you.
I finally make it to the photo of a baby bundled up in a hospital issued hat and blanket. Definitely a newborn with the way her skin looks. Doesn’t really look like either of them at this point.
Another photo comes through of Konnor holding a baby in his arms from the hospital sofa and looking down at her like he’s in awe. I smile, getting a little teary-eyed, because that’s exactly how I always pictured Konnor as a dad. Only it looks like a lion holding a baby lamb with the way his arms are covered in tattoos now while she’s so pure. So beastly, yet so beautiful. He’s a good one through and through. After all these years, I’m glad they got their shit together.
I type out a reply.
Me:Presley!!! She’s beautiful. I knew she would be. I can’t wait to meet her. I’ll be on a plane the second I’m out for summer. Glad you got your lobster. Love you.
I reach forward and return my phone to the nightstand before cuddling up against Landon, who’s not said anything, but I can feel his breath on the back of my neck as he breathes. “Two out of three are here,” I say, wondering why the hell he’s so quiet. Still, nothing. “Landon.”
“If your birth control ever fails before we’re ready, will you have any regrets?” he finally says.
Before we’re ready . . .God, I love him.
That dream I had the night I took those pregnancy tests comes back to me—one I think of often out of nowhere. It felt so real, which is why I was hellbent on taking a test. There is an age and time when a pregnancy is a good thing versus a bad. I know the subconscious knows more than we do ninety percent of the time, and I’ve always known that one day, when I’m sure my person loves me for me and not social status, I do want to have at least one kid. I just want that kid to be a result of loving someone hard, and not any other reason.
I’m more concerned with the fact that he’s actually having to ask that question than the actual question, but we all have our own insecurities, myself included. I can understand his, considering the topic at hand. I now know his mom did get pregnant with his sister at eighteen before they got married, and look what happened with them, which was a complete mind-fuck for Landon.
I turn over to face him. He’s breathing evenly, not seeming worked up at all considering the question open between us, which is a heavy one. I guess in matters like these, the age gap works against two people, because whereas he’s grown, most high school juniors don’t actually want to have this conversation. A baby would only be the result of irresponsible sex, and at my age, an embarrassment.
The thing about me is, I’ve felt like a result of irresponsible sex my entire life whether my parents were married or not, so I tend to think about everything, and I never want my kids to feel like that. I want better for them, and I want better for myself. I want to plan a baby and follow through when it’s time. The man in front of me is also the only one I’ve ever loved that’s not related to me.
If only I had a recording of that November day in the basement when he was making it clear that no girl would ever trap him with a kid while he was fucking me senseless. How things have changed . . . Still, most girls in love would answer that question the same. How would he feel? “Would you?”
“I asked you.”
“I let you come in me, don’t I? I was under the impression that we do more than we say.”
He rolls on his back and pulls me on top of him. I throw my hands down by his head to push myself back enough to look at him. His hands gripped on my hips, he starts rocking my center back and forth on the length of his dick. “Guess so. I’ve only ever come in you.”
He must be having some weird thoughts since his friends are all spitting out kids, only one planned, and I’m not sure if Konnor is actually Landon’s friend or if they’re just typical bandmates that share a common ground. Guys don’t really announce their feelings over other guys like girls would.
Landon isn’t going to just come out and say whatever he’s thinking if it’s anything personal. You have to pull it out of him, but I suppose in ways I’m the same, so I pretend I’m completely unfazed by what he’s doing and how good it feels. “Yeah? And what exactly does that mean to you?”
“I chose you.”
“For?”
“Everything. If any bitch is going to have my kid, it’s going to be you.”
I smile, a laugh hanging on the edge of my lips despite the demeaning term, because without it, he wouldn’t really be Landon. “You called me a bitch. How fucking romantic.”
A deep laugh rumbles from his mouth. “Just stating the facts. You know you are one. It’s why you’re the only one that got me.” He grabs my jaw and pulls me closer. “I love you, bitch.”
The way he tells me he loves me is always so profound that it makes my heart flutter. He makes me believe it, regardless of the way it’s said. “I love you too, asshole. No regrets.”
“Never with you,” he adds, making me emotional, because Landon emotional is otherworldly. There is nothing else like it.
I sit upright and start rocking back and forth on him like he was recently making me do. “I like living our life on the edge. Let’s just hope science doesn’t fail; at least until I graduate at the very minimum.”
His hands move around to my ass, squeezing a handful in each hand, adding to the motion to make sure my center keeps gliding up and down the length of his dick to wet it. “I’m glad this is mine.”
