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sides the fact that Nathan and I create enough chemistry to power a rocket. How would I go about wooing a potential suitor while knocked up with someone else’s kid and make it seem like I’m not just trolling for a new baby daddy?
Also, it needs repeating: the sex with Nathan.
Phe.Nom.Enal.
An extra set of hands around the house and all hours of the night would be a godsend. It’s also the wrong reason to start a serious relationship with someone. I know without a doubt that if Nathan and I got together now, there’d be no baby steps. We’d shoot straight past dating and right into living together, parenthood, and probably marriage.
I sigh.
“We love your daddy, yes we do,” I coo to my sleeping newborn and pull him from the carrier to transfer him to his car seat. “Which is why I can’t see you until tomorrow.” Tucking his warm, fuzzy baby head beneath my chin, I take a giant whiff of the lotion I used after his bath and squeeze my eyes shut. I memorize the smell of him. I’m doing the right thing. That doesn’t mean it isn’t one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
He releases a little baby squeal when I set him in his seat and strap him in. I plop a knitted, forest green hat from Grandma Regina on his head and smooth the matching blanket around him, tucking it in at the sides.
“Ready or not,” I say aloud to myself and will away the tears. The pep talk doesn’t soothe the ache in my chest.
I wait on Nathan’s doorstep for him to open up, diaper bag slung over a shoulder, and the infant seat clasped tightly in the other hand. The door swings open to reveal Nathan wearing only a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants.
Lord Almighty, why do they have to be gray? I lick my lips, well aware I’ve locked onto the delicious V-zone leading down into his pants.
Once again, the discrepancies are notable. I’m wearing the same messy bun as two days ago, and the dark circles under my eyes make me look like a zombie.
Six weeks, the doctor said. Only four more to go.
“Hey.” His tone registers the surprise written on his face. “What’re you doing here?”
I thrust the carrier forward, and Nathan relieves me of the weight. For a newborn infant, he sure gets heavy in a hurry. Unslinging the diaper bag, I set it just inside his front door.
“I’m not going to stay.” I drop my gaze to study my fur-lined boots. It’s late March, but some snow and slush remain on the ground. “I thought it’s a good time for you to have him overnight. Just one, um, to start.”
I hear, rather than see, Nathan step back and set Cedric down.
“Do you want to come inside and talk about this?” he asks softly, a vein of concern evident in his tone.
“Nope. It’ll be fine.”
“Because if you’re not ready, we don’t need to rush. I completely understand this isn’t easy.”
I roll my shoulders back and raise my chin high, lifting my gaze to his. “It’s not going to get any easier, so we might as well start now. You’re his father, and you deserve as much time with him as I do.”
“We have time to talk about this.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” My voice splinters on the last word, and he doesn’t miss it. Nathan doesn’t miss anything when it comes to me. I take a step back off his porch, careful not to trip.
“I packed a lot of milk in the cooler, but if you run out, just text me, and I’ll bring over more.”
My resolve cracks like a spidered windshield, and a tear drips heavily from my eye.
“Kiersten,” he calls sorrowfully.
“Don’t worry.” I plaster on a watery smile. “I won’t be alone. I’ll be okay.” The heat of acid rises up my throat, but I’m not going to tell him that. Rip the Band-Aid off, remember?
Cedric, stationary on the floor in his carrier, begins to wail.
“Take care of him,” I call through an obnoxious sob and sprint back to my car. The dam completely breaks before I even get the ignition started, and I sit in his driveway as I attempt to pull myself together. Looking up through bleary eyes, I see the two men I love the most frozen in the doorway, watching me completely break the fuck down.
I can’t stay here. I have to leave before the hysterics strand me in his driveway. Without wiping my face, I wave and hope it looks bright and cheery through the window even though I’m sure my face reflects the slow death inside me. Pulling out, I drive three blocks down and take the corner into an alley. As soon as I put the car in park, my face crumples as gut-wrenching sobs seize me.
Forty-five minutes later, my crying jag subsides. I take the backroads to Cami’s. She opens her front door before I even put the car in park, but at the look on her face, I contemplate going home. She’s a terror when riled, and I can tell she has something on her mind. She knew about my plan and even seemed on board, but I get the feeling something’s changed.
