Page 93 of First Comes Forever

“Oh boy,” I murmur into the phone. “You sniffed her, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” he asks as he flicks on his turn signal.

“I swear that’s what got me. I didn’t want kids. Then, Noa had Jonah, and I sniffed him too many times. Babies give off these sneaky pheromones. You think they just smell so good because of the lavender baby products, but no, it’s their magic juju. They’re planting the seed so their kind can multiply.”

He chuckles. “That’s not a thing.”

“It is. How else do you explain me going from being anti-baby to spending a literal fortune in a fertility clinic?” I clear my throat. “Or, sorry, I guess I meanyouspending a literal fortune.”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t be weird about the money.”

“I’m not being—”

“Amani, I can afford to have the fertility clinic put the entire Brady Bunch in your womb. Wouldn’t even notice the dip in my bank account. I own over fifty investment properties, all of them grossly lucrative. I buy cars the way most people buy shoes, and guess what? None of it means a goddamn thing. It’s all empty stuff and extra money for no reason. I had nothing to look forward to each day until you… I really love you.”

Holding my cheek, I can feel the warmth. Apparently, big declarations of affection make me blush the same way as when Adam calls me pretty.

“You still there?” he asks.

“Why do you always say this stuff over the phone? I can’t kiss you over the phone.”

He laughs. “I think all my best words come out when I’m worried about you or missing you.”

“Well, maybe I should keep you worried and missing me, then.” I press my fingers against the glass window, my fingerprint visible against the frosted window.

“No,” he finally says. “Missing you is why I wanted to talk. I fucked up.”

“What?”

“Our contract? It’s not good enough. I don’t want to wait to meet the baby until you let me. I want to hold her as soon as she’s born. One holiday a year isn’t enough. Not even close. I want to do this with you, every step of the way. Maybe it’s too late for you to have my baby, but it’s not too late for us to be a family.”

Scrunching my bare toes against the bench, I absorb his words. We’ve been dating behind everyone’s back for what…six months? Is this a change of heart or Adam panicking? How long is long enough before I know if we’re ready to be a family?

“What’re you saying specifically, Adam?”

“Stay in California. Move in with me, and let’s raise this baby together. If you don’t like my place, I’ll buy us whatever house you want. On the beach, in the city. As long as it’s within driving distance of my dad, the rest I don’t care about. If you’re happy, I’m happy. And when we’re ready to take that step, I promise I’ll buy you whatever ring you want. Amani, I’m all in if you are.”

Why is he asking me this now? When my choice seems more impossible than ever. Being here with my friends feels like breathing again. It’s a reminder of the old parts of me I actually want to keep. There was a happy Amani before social media became too much and before all I knew was the ache of disappointment from negative pregnancy tests. The past couple of years have been hard, but my friends have known me for far longer than that.

I miss my mom. Unlike Adam’s dad, I know she has her memories, but she’s in pain, too. I’m still needed here. It was stupid to run off to L.A. to reinvent myself. I could’ve done that at home, supported by the people who have loved every version of me. And now I have to choose…

One type of love or a different type of love. Which is superior?

I let out a long sigh before I finally answer. “There’s no baby yet.”

“I have a gut feeling. You’re going to be a mom, Iknowit.”

“And you want to be a dad to my baby?” I ask.

“Something like that.”

The background noise of the highway and his engine have gone. I realize he’s parked now. Likely sitting in his driveway, waiting for my answer.

And I don’t know how to answer.

It sounds an awful lot like Adam wants me to have a baby on his terms. He wants to give me everything so I don’t need anyone but him. I know it’s not from a selfish or controlling place. I think it’s fear. It’s okay for me to rely on him, but if Adam were to move to Denver and leave his family and friends behind to raisemybaby, his heart would be completely reliant on me. I get the impression that’s not a risk he wants to take.

“Adam, I love you. I mean that. But let’s talk about the rest if and when there’s a baby to plan for. Okay? But if you need some reassurance, I want to be all in, too.”

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