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But I’m pulled into awareness by our closeness and the intensity in his gaze as he watches me almost protectively. Drowsiness fades and I stumble out of bed, heart racing as the events of last night and this morning flood back to me, making me remember how he broke down my walls before carrying me to bed.
My hands shake as I grab clothing and rush into the bathroom.
A few rushed minutes later, I emerge with teeth brushed, hair combed, and clothes buttoned up.
Brian sits on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, but when his eyes lift to mine, he sets the device aside and stands.
“Amanda—”
Not knowing if I’m ready to talk, I try to pass him, but with one swift movement, he stretches his arm out and blocks me from moving past him.
Heat pools in my stomach as his breath skims against my ear.
“Amanda,” he murmurs. “You’re pregnant. We need to talk.”
Before I know it, tears stream down my face.Is he going to ask me to get an abortion?
“What’s wrong?” He sounds uncertain and confused.
I wipe away the wetness framing my eyes and after mustering up my courage, I quietly utter, “What are your thoughts on the baby?” When he doesn’t answer, I slowly back away and look up into his eyes. “You said—”
His gaze holds mine as he takes in a deep breath. “Ninety-nine percent of the things I said that night came out of grief and pure fear. But you gotta understand that fear. It—”
He stops and swallows. Traces of pain fly over his features.
“Tell me what that fear was telling you, Brian.”
The tears in his eyes break my heart as he speaks. “The fear—it showed me everything that could go wrong. Images of our child lying dead in bed... like how I found my father. Then mental videos of you telling me how much you hated me, for killing our child. Followed by pictures of me lying in bed and my kid seeing it like I did.”
My breath hitches as understanding dawns on me—his concern isn’t irrational but things that could become reality. My lips quiver, feeling each beat of his heartache.
“When I saw you last night, ill and so helpless, I was terrified something bad would happen to you. And then the baby...” He trails off. As I watch Brian standing before me, so vulnerable, a wave of terror overtakes me. For a moment, my heart seizes as I think about the baby and what it might portend for us. I understand his fear. He has lost both support systems, and that is devastating. The knowledge that he may pass on an inherited condition to his child? God, it would be soul-crushingly painful and fill him with guilt. No one should ever have to accept such a heavy burden.
Brian deserves peace of mind. He deserves the freedom to live without fear. And having a child means truckloads of responsibilities, worries, and anxieties. With a deep breath, I speak softly, “Please listen to me.”
Confusion clouds his eyes, and he swallows hard, but still, his gaze won’t break from mine.
“You said you don’t want kids, and I get it. I do.” Conviction builds inside me, my voice rising in strength with every syllable. “And I didn’t plan on this happening, but here we are. As scared as I am of the what-ifs, my body hums, knowing that this baby is meant for me.”
A moment passes before I continue, “But if parenthood isn’t something you want to take on, then I understand, Brian. Really—and I won’t judge you if you decide not to be a part of our child’s life.”
Tears brim at my eyes as my throat constricts. “That’s why I’m asking you... If parenting isn’t your thing, turn around and walk away now.” Every molecule in me screams at the possibility of losing him, yet this decision must be his alone to make.
“There’s no obligation for you to stay just because I’m pregnant.”
I stare at the ground, a heavy silence pressing between us until he speaks.
“Amanda, please look at me.”
I force my gaze up to meet his, universe-blue eyes overflowing with emotion. He takes a deep breath before saying.
“You’ve said your piece. Now let me give you mine.”
My shaking fingers clench together, steeling myself for what’s to come.
“I don’t want you to abort our baby, Amanda.”
A wave of relief floods through me like the tide. “You don’t?”
