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“You told me you were on the pill,” he explained as if he’d heard my question.
“I did?” I had no recollection of saying that in my alcohol-fueled state, but if I did, then drunk me was a compulsive liar. Either that, or I was so far gone, or I wanted him so badly that I was willing to say just about anything to have him keep going.
And if I had to think about it, it was probably the latter.
“Oh,” I said again at his nod. “I lied. Sorry about that, but I don’t remember saying it to you. I’ve never been on the pill, but I might have said it just so you wouldn’t stop.” Embarrassment flushed my face at the admission. “And the few days after that night, I’d been so freaked out about the whole sleeping with my sister’s ex-husband thing that I decided to put the whole incident out of my mind entirely. I didn’t want to think about it at all, so I didn’t even realize I probably should have taken a morning-after pill. I guess I wasn’t very good at the one-night stand thing.” I was starting to repeat myself, but I couldn’t stop talking. Nerves were bubbling up inside me, and they refused to dissipate.I shook my head. “It was my first time doing anything like that, you know. Or having sex in general. But I suppose these things happen, and all I can do is deal with the consequences.”
Fuck, this was what happened when I started talking too much. I hadn’t meant to say that middle part about never having sex before, and I was hoping he would ignore it in light of everything else I’d said.
But he didn’t.
I knew he didn’t from the way his eyes widened and then shut as if he was in pain.
“Did you just tell me you were a virgin?” The words were a question and a demand, dropping heavily in the silence.
Play it cool, Charlie. “Um…yeah. But not because I’m a prude or anything. It’s just…well, most people lose their virginities in college, and I didn’t get a chance to go, and then I didn’t really date people either and—”
“Shit.” The swear word was loaded with meaning. In fact, he could have practically said,“I fucked up.”
My stomach dropped. This was why I never told him in the first place. I didn’t want this awkwardness to ensue and didn’t want him to look at me with judgmental eyes as though there was something wrong with me.
“Was I that bad?” I asked with a nervous laugh.
“No,” he answered as his eyes opened. However, there was clear regret in his eyes. “You’re perfect. But you should have told me.”
I blinked at him, my mind mildly scrambled from the fact that he had just called me perfect. Butterflies scattered in my stomach, making my voice husky when I asked, “Would you have had sex with me if you knew I was a virgin?”
He seemed to think about it for a few moments, then shook his head. My heart sank again until he added, “Not like that. Not in the dark with both of us drunk and fumbling. I would have done more, taken my time, and made it better for you.” His face scrambled again into an expression of disgust. But now I knew it wasn’t directed at me but rather at himself. “You deserved better than that for your first time. You deserved better than that, period.”
And just like that, my heart fluttered back to life. The butterflies didn’t just fly anymore—they bounced around and caused sensations that made my heart squeeze. I looked at him and felt my emotions overwhelm me.
I shook myself out of it and coughed to cover up the emotions that I definitely shouldn’t have been feeling. “Anyway, so…” What was I talking about? Oh, right, I was pregnant. “I didn’t feel anything special for the next few weeks after we slept together, but then, today, I was arguing with my mom and started feeling sick. That was when I realized I hadn’t seen my period in a while. Ivanna gave me a pregnancy test a while ago as a joke, and I used that to check, and sure enough, it turned out I was pregnant.”
I took a peek at his face again once I was done talking.
He no longer looked as shocked as he did in the beginning, nor as tense. He simply appeared thoughtful now, as though he was quickly adjusting to the surprise.
And then, when he finally spoke, he asked a question that I wasn’t expecting him to ask.
“What did you fight with your mom about?”
The question was unexpected, and I hesitated slightly to answer it. “Oh, nothing, just the usual stuff. You know how parents can be.”
He was quiet for a little, and then a little smirk appeared. “I was an orphan.”
“Oh, shoot. I forgot.” The guilt spread through me and my insensitivity.Why did I say that? Why didn’t I think before I spoke?“I’m sorry.”
At my apology, he only smiled more as he shook his head. “Nah, I’m just messing with you.”
“Oh.” I checked his expression to assure myself that I truly hadn’t hurt him. He winked at me and chuckled, and I smacked him on the chest playfully. “Well, don’t do that again. I felt so bad.”
“Okay, I won’t.” He leaned in and brushed his lips over my forehead, a surprisingly tender move that rendered me speechless for a few seconds. “But you should know, darling,” he continued in a thoughtful tone. “I don’t have the slightest idea on how to be a good father. I didn’t have the best examples in foster care.” His expression darkened once again as it always did whenever he mentioned foster care.
“Oh.” I could tell those were bad memories, so I didn’t push him to talk about them. But one day, when he was ready, I hoped he would talk to me.
And then, it struck me like lightning, the implication of what he just said.
“Wait, you believe me?” I sat up, gaping at him.
