Page 13 of Pretty Little Disaster

“Everything on here looks fine, I was just going to have a salad, anyway. My appetite’s not great at the moment.” She smiles as she places her menu down and takes a sip of her water.

“But you are eating?” I check, knowing from the times that my sister’s been pregnant, how important that is.

“Yeah, I’m not great at keeping down my breakfast, but I get better as the day goes on,” she informs me

“How long have you been sick for?” I can’t believe she's kept this from me.

“About a week and a half, at first I thought I had some kind of bug but then my period never came. I would have told you before but it’s not exactly like we get along. I was worried you’d blame me.”

“I don’t blame you,” I sigh heavily, knowing that all the blame for this is on me. I could have put a condom on that night. I have with every other woman I’ve been with. But something about being with her felt different. Not that I’m about to admit that.

“What's done is done, what we have to do is figure out how to deal with it. We can swing by your apartment and pick up your stuff once we’re done here and I know what you said about college and wo?—”

“Wait, what do you mean pick up my stuff?” She stares across the table at me like she’s confused.

“Well, I can’t move into your place, it’s far too small.” I shrug.

“Why does anyone have to move anywhere?” She looks utterly perplexed.

“Because we’re having a baby together. You're going to need me, and so is the kid when it gets here. I have enough space in my apartment for all three of us so it makes the most logical sense.”

“You want us tolivetogether?” She makes no attempt to hide the fact that the idea horrifies her.

“I told you, you're my responsibility now.”

“No, I’m sorry, I…this is too much.” She stands up and starts moving toward the door.

“Lorna, come back.” I chase after her, not caring a damn that we now have the attention of the whole restaurant. “You can’t act as if this isn’t going to change our lives, and I know you probably wish you were doing this with someone else but the reality is, you're not. I’m what you got and I’m determined to do my best at it. Just, please, hear me out.”

She looks genuinely shocked by what I’m telling her, and when she realizes everyone around us is staring, she smiles at them all politely and slowly moves back to her seat.

“Go ahead, tell me why two people who hate each other should move into the same apartment.”

“Because…” I reach across the table and take her hands, “...those two people made a baby, and it’s our job to get this right. If you don’t have to worry about paying rent, you won’t have to take shifts in the restaurant you work at. You can focus on the last few months you have left at college and graduate without overworking yourself. Plus, if we live together I can…you know….take care of you.” As crazy as it sounds, I really like the idea of doing that.

“You want to take care of me?” She looks at me with a sarcastic little smirk.

“Sure, you’ve got my baby in there.” I point to her flat stomach and when she slides her hand across it and makes a tiny smile, I can’t help noticing how cute she looks.

“I just can’t see this working, we don’t agree on anything. You irritate the hell out of me.”

“We agree on the fact we want what's best for our baby and, right now, getting him here and making sure he’s healthy is job number one. You move into my apartment, you quit your job and we figure this out step by step,” I suggest.

“I get my own room.” She scrunches up her forehead. Of course, shewouldhave to turn this into a negotiation.

“I’ll clear out the games room.”

“Games room?” She shakes her head and laughs as she takes a sip of her water.

“Do you want to tell me what’s so funny?” I manage a smile of my own.

“I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this…On a trial basis,” she points her finger at me. “If it doesn’t work out, we’ll have to try another way.”

I nod my head. “And I still hate you,” she adds just before the waiter comes over to take our order, the fact she’s smiling when she says it and looking really pretty, almost makes the words hurt a little less.

We arrive back at my apartment with just the ‘essentials’ we picked up from her place on the way here. I, of course, insisted that she didn’t carry anything, and by the time we get through the door my arms feel like lead weights.

“You can have my room for tonight, I’ll get to clearing the games room out tomorrow while you choose what furniture you want,” I tell her, dumping all her stuff on the couch and watching as she takes the place in.

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