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For a moment there’s nothing—no blood in my veins, no air in my lungs. No contractions of my heart. I’m a shell, unable to comprehend what’s going on. “Wh-what?”
“The. Condom. Broke.”
I step back, bracing one palm against the glass to steady myself. How had I not noticed? How had I not instinctively felt that crucial change? It’s never happened before—not once. Not when I dated that dropkick I should’ve ditched after the first date, and not when I tried to convince myself to love the guy who was so right on paper, but failed to give me sparks.
I’ve always wanted to be a mother...but not like this. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I’m telling you right now.”
My head is spinning like a top. I press my hand to my stomach, realising I’m still dressed in a towel. “Why didn’t you come straight back to bed and tell me?”
“I...I don’t know. I freaked out.” Owen looks at me with panic in his eyes.
“I’ll go to the pharmacy.” I soundwaycalmer than I feel, but my dad always said I was like a duck in a crisis: calm on the outside, and moving like mad beneath the surface. Was medication one-hundred-percent guaranteed to work? What were the chances I would end up pregnant? I had no earthly idea.
“If for whatever reason it...doesn’t work, I’ll take care of you and the baby.”
The sincerity in his voice melts my heart. A baby now would be the worst possible timing, but if Idoend up pregnant then I’ll make it work. No matter what. I have to admit that knowing Owen would be involved makes me feel a smidge better. “Thank you.”
“Seriously, whatever you need. I...I haven’t touched my parents’ money. It’s sitting in an account because I wanted nothing to do with it, so if you need a new place, baby stuff. I’ll get you anything.”
I blink. “You’re talking about money?”
“Well, yeah. I know babies are expensive. It’s probably theonlything I know about them.” He rakes his hand through his hair again. “And you’d need your own place, too. Somewhere safe, which means well...shit, I don’t know what the stats are like anymore. Maybe we can get hold of the crime report—”
“Owen.” I hold up a hand, halting him. “I don’t want your money.”
“What?” It’s like I’ve shaken him out of a trance. He’s gone into solution mode, thinking about living arrangements and baby supplies, but all of that is second-tier stuff. “I can’t let you manage that alone.”
“But what aboutyou? Not your bank account or your family’s money. I mean you...if you were a dad.” I grip the towel hard against me, feeling suddenly like I’m standing on a cliff face, with a sheer drop below. “If I end up pregnant, what are you going to do?”
“I’ll be back in Manhattan. I’m leaving the second this is all over.” The words come so automatically, it’s like salt on an already raw wound. He didn’t even hesitate for a second. All of this—being home, being withme—hasn’t given him pause about his life.
I wasn’t expecting anything different, but it still hurts. “Right.”
“Fuck, I didn’t...” God, this is so awkward. “I can’t stay here, Hannah. You know that.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to keep all the words and feelings inside. He’s right, Ididknow that. We argued about it the night of the gallery, where he tried to draw boundaries because he predicted I’d want more. And he was right.
He’d been right all along.
“Not even if you’d fathered a child? You’re telling me you’d want nothing to do with us?”
“I’m not cut out for that life. I don’t...do the family thing.” How is it possible that he’s so handsome, even now? Even with all that anguish on his face? “This is exactly why I tried to keep things professional.”
“It takes two to tango, Owen.” Sure, I encouraged things along, but he still said yes. He still walked into that bar and sat down next to me, knowing where it would lead. He still came to bed with me today. We’rebothparty to this.
“I’m not blaming you. I’m setting expectations.” When he looks at me, it’s like being lanced through the heart. “I like you...a lot. Too much, in fact.”
“That is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s not. The whole reason I tried to steer clear was because I knew how risky it was. You’re my kryptonite. You’re like sunshine and fucking fairy floss and fireworks and I will suck that all out of you.”
His voice is ragged. I know he believes himself—that he’ll bring me down or be forced to relive the loss and pain he experienced as a boy, in some way. But it’s a cop-out. A protection method. And I deserve more.
I deserve a man who’s not afraid to commit. And even though I know there’s something between us—something I want to explore more than anything—I won’t put myself in a situation where I get discarded because he’s too scared to try.
“You don’t get to say that stuff unless you plan on acting on it.” I look up at him, doing my best to hide my feelings away. I’ve shown him too much already. “I’m going to the pharmacy now, and you’re going to figure out how to get usbothinto that poker game. Then we’re going to pretend like none of this ever happened.”
