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“I’m gonna have a baby. A nursery is kind of a requisite.”
That shouldn’t make me panic like it does. Genuine fear shouldn’t tighten my chest, clog my throat. This is his baby too; it makes perfect sense he wants somewhere to put them. I shouldn’t assume the worst but I do, and that assumption leaves my mouth before I can stop it. “Are you gonna fight me for custody?”
To his credit, Cass takes my outburst in his stride. He tenses, sure, but he’s calm as he counters, “Are you gonna stop me from seeing my kid?”
“Only if you deserve it.”
Wood creaks as Cass straightens. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he cocks his head. “And what exactly would make me deserve it?”
I avert my gaze, frowning at my reflection. “Lots of things.”
“Sunday, look at me, please.”
I oblige, however reluctantly.
“See this?” Cass gestures to his face. “Not John.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I look away again. “Sorry.”
Cass sighs. He reaches for my hand, tugging until I reluctantly move to stand between his widespread legs. “I don’t wanna fight you for anything, Sunday. Would I love full custody? Of course. But our situation is our situation, and I’m happy with shared if you are.”
That's the thing, though, isn’t it? I’m not sure I am. I can barely give August up for a weekend without losing my mind. Sacrificing fifty percent of my time with this one? It hurts my heart just thinking about it.
But it’s the way it is. It’s the situation I got myself into. So I don’t really have much of a choice other than to grin and bear it.
“If we lived together, we wouldn’t have this problem.”
I huff a half-hearted laugh. “No but we’d have about a hundred others.”
“Like?”
I squint at Cass, a little surprised he hasn’t thought of the most obvious one. “Imagine bringing someone home and they find your child, your baby momma, and her kid lounging around.”
Cass scoffs. “That’s an easy one. I don’t bring anyone home.”
“Right. You never have sex again.Easy.”
“I didn’t say that, did I?” He snaps the waistband of my leggings. “There’s always the passenger seat of a car.”
Cheeks heating, I flick him away.
“Any other objections?”
“Yes.”
“Care to share?”
“Are you gonna have a response for all of them?”
“Probably.”
‘Then no.” Not when I’m almost positive he’d wear me down with perfect, careful counters to every argument I could possibly conjure up. “I see where you’re coming from, okay? And I can admit it makes sense but it’s just…”
“A lot?”
