Page 84 of Set Me On Fire

“It came back positive,” I added finally. “I still need to do a blood test?—”

“We’ll come with you when you do that,” Knox said.

“It still has to be confirmed officially, but…” I bit off a chunk of the bread, chewing fast before swallowing. “But I know. My breasts are sore and feel like a size bigger.” Charlie checked them out as if glad for an excuse to do so. “I’m nauseous all the time but never end up throwing up. I’m tired, so tired?—”

“So maybe we should take you home.”

Noah leaned forward, placing a hand on my back, and those small soothing circles were everything I needed. My eyes fell half closed. Another piece of garlic bread was pushed between my fingers, and I chewed on that for just a moment as I said the words I’d been practising in my head.

“You don’t have to be involved. Whoever the father is, he doesn’t have to be put on the birth certificate.” I heard a lowgrowl, but forged on. “I’m not looking for help or support or money or anything.”

“So what’re you going to do when you get it?” I opened my eyes to see Knox staring at me, a small smile forming.

“You can’t talk us out of this.” Charlie took a sip of his juice and then winced. “So stop trying. You obviously had all these scenarios running through your head all week. Well, here’s the reality. We talked.”

“Of course you did,” I sighed.

“And we agreed.” Noah leaned forward and I found myself missing the feel of his hand. “We don’t walk away from our responsibilities.” Responsibility, yeah, that was a sexy idea. “But it's more than that.” His hand slid up my spine and to the back of my neck, becoming a heavy, possessive weight. “I want to be a father to my child, but…” When I glanced sideways it felt like we were back at school again. “But I want the woman more. Let me take you out on a date, Millie, a real one.”

I heard the others shift restlessly, but I couldn’t turn around to find out why. He held my attention, the skin around those hazel eyes crinkling as he began to smile. I said then the only thing I could.

“Yes.”

Chapter 40

Knox

A father. I was going to be a father.

I didn’t even feel myself pull my house key out and shove it in the lock, just finding myself stumbling into my house. Buster rushed up and nudged at my legs, his tail whirling, and while I saw his excitement, it was nothing compared to mine.

A father.

When Millie had asked me to go to dinner with her I felt a curl of something I never thought would return: hope. Part of me wanted to smash it down, rip it out by the root before it got a chance to flourish.

And the other half wanted to let it grow.

Not in my wildest dreams did I think this would be the way dinner ended. In my quietest, most honest moments, I hoped for a repeat of the night of the party. It’d just be Millie scratching an itch, but I couldn’t help but want to be the one doing the scratching.

Instead, she’d given me something much better.

A child?

I looked down at my hands, almost able to see him or her cradled within them. A tiny little person with chubby little arms and legs they could barely control. Fragile. I wanted to pull them close, hold them against my chest, and breathe in their smell, but instead, I dropped down to scratch my dog’s chest. He snuffled at my shoulders, my hair, no doubt smelling girl and good food and…

Happiness.

I felt happy.

My eyes blinked way too hard, way too fast, because it was all hitting me. I could do this. Be a better father than mine had, than any of the stooges my mother had installed in our house as step-father. I could be gentle but firm, be a consistent, caring presence in the child’s life. They could always come to me, and I’d make time for them, stopping what I was doing to just listen. I’d…

I shook my head, coming back to the room. Buster looked at me with doggy concern before disappearing off into the backyard, retrieving his ball and dropping it for me. He brought me crashing back down to earth, so I stepped outside into the backyard and tossed it for him.

I couldn’t seem to stop the train of thoughts steaming through my head. Of a swing set built in one corner of the yard, a sandpit next to it. Of toys strewn across the lawn, not just Buster’s balls. Of high-pitched screams of joy as they ran across the yard, pelting towards me so I could swing them up into my arms and hold them close.

My son. My daughter.

But right as my arms ached to do just that, I remembered. Millie hadn’t informed me that I was the father of her child, she’d told all three of us. It was like I’d got a notification that I’d won the lottery, only to turn up and find out I needed to get through one more round to get my prize.

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