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“I did. To get my stuff.” Harrison smiles, the dimple settling into his cheek ever so noticeably. “I also had to pull some strings—namely promising the previous tenant season tickets to the New York Mavericks along with the rest of my more than generous offer—but I managed to get an apartment downstairs. I hope that’s not too forward of me, but I wanted to be close enough to help you with anything you might need. Cravings, putting furniture together—whatever.”
My head spins.
He moved here? Into the same building as me?
To be here for me and the baby?
Holy hell.
My tongue is tied like freaking shoelaces, and I can’t get my thoughts together to form words before he takes my silence the wrong way.
“I mean, I know you have other people who can do that stuff for you, obviously,” he adds, his voice starting to resemble quiet and unsure. “And if you’d prefer that, that’s totally okay. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to be as involved as possible.”
Jesus Christmas, I thought he was gone. But it’s completely obvious that leaving for good was never what he intended. He really went back to New York to get his “affairs in order.”
“You…you moved here? For me?”
“Yeah,” he affirms with a nod. “You and the baby. Sorry I didn’t call, but to be fair, you never sent me your number.”
He up and left everything in New York to come here…for me?
The woman who lied to him. The woman who didn’t tell him she was pregnant because the shame and guilt of her lies were too overwhelming. Not to mention, the same woman whose life is a fucking mess and has her stupid fake fiancé that she can’t even stand currently sitting inside her living room right now….
The responsibility of it all feels like a thousand pounds on my shoulders.
“Harrison, I don’t really know what to think of…well, us,” I whisper, staring down at my bare feet. God, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to handle this. I feel way too responsible for being the reason he uprooted his life. “I mean, just because we slept together doesn’t mean we’re right for each other.” My words feel wrong and bitter as they leave my lips, but somehow, someway, this enigma of a man just takes it all in stride.
“Oh,” he says with a laugh. “No. I mean, sure, I like you, but that’s not the idea here, Rock. No strings, no complications. I just want to be here for you and the baby we made together. I’m not expecting you to drop everything for me. Hell, I’m not expecting you to drop anything for me. I just—”
“Yet, you dropped everything in your life for me,” I respond as I worry my teeth into my lip. “What about your friends? Your job? Your—”
“Rock,” he gently interrupts me. “I’m not sacrificing as much as you think I am. I’ll be working bicoastally for HawCom. Truthfully, it was a move the company already needed to make. And I’ll go back to New York from time to time. Don’t feel guilty about this, okay? This is my choice,” he says, conviction evident in his voice. “I want to be a part of the baby’s life. And seeing as you live here, and the baby lives here, it makes sense to me that if I want real, constant contact, I’m going to have to live here too.”
“Simple as that, huh?” I ask and he nods.
“Simple as that.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I have to bite at my tongue almost viciously to stop them. Still, I allow myself the vulnerability it takes to put my arms around his shoulders and pull his body close to my own for a hug.
He settles his hands tentatively on my hips before burying his face in my hair and smiling. I can feel it against my ear. “We made a baby, Rock. I can still hardly fucking believe it.”
I giggle, the snot in my near ugly cry making it sound a little sniffly. “Me either. And I’ve got the dang thing growing inside of me.”
Harrison pulls away first, the smile responsible for the curve of his mouth stretching all the way into the light green flecks in his eyes.
“Do you want to come inside?” I ask shyly. I’m not usually the overly introverted type, but this is a situation I’ve never even come close to walking through before. How do you treat the father of your unborn baby when you aren’t dating, but you don’t have an ugly, sordid past of divorce and fights and hurt feelings?
I don’t know the answer, but my body seems to know enough for me that I don’t really need to. The baby seems content when he’s around, and if I’m honest, so do I. “We’re in the middle of a meeting right now, but I have a doctor’s appointment later today. You could…come if you want to?”
