Page 50 of Good Guy Gabe

“I know, but how is he going to believe me? And he doesn’t want kids.”

That’s enough to get Cora to scowl and stand back up, planting her fists at her waist. “Well, he’s going to be a fucking dad now, and you’re not going to let him bully you—”

She’s cut off by the sound of a bull stampeding up my stairs. We don’t need an announcement to know who it is, although Gabe’s bellow of “Joss? Are you up here?” falls only a second behind the stampede.

Cora storms out of the bathroom, ready to face off with Gabe. “You better take care of her. I will hunt you down and cut off your dick if you don’t.”

“I will take care of her until the day I die,” Gabe says.

And that’s it. That’s all the time I have, that’s all the conviction I need.

Gabe appears in the doorway to the bathroom, still dressed in his workout gear, clearly stressed, a bottle of ginger beer in hand, and I burst into tears and lift my arms to him. There’s nohesitation from him. I ask him to hold me, and he scoops me right up.

“I’m here,” he promises. “I’m here for you.”

“I’m pregnant,” I sob, unable to hold it back for even a second as I flop my weight onto him, so ridiculously thankful he’s this big and strong, that he’s going to hold me like this while I have this meltdown, positive that no matter what tomorrow looks like, he’s going to hold me today.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he assures me again.

“It’s yours, I swear, I would never ever sleep with anyone else. I—oh god, I’m going to barf.”

“Because of morning sickness or because you think I would ever doubt for a second this baby is mine? Because I will put you down if it’s morning sickness.”

I sniffle and reach up from the shoulder I’m gripping to rub my eyes. “But not if I’m barfing because I’m worried that you won’t think it’s yours?”

“Nope, I figure if I hold you through that and you barf all over me, it’ll prove my point better. If you’re pregnant, it’s with my baby.”

“But your vasectomy?”

“Well, I’ve still got nuts, and they’re still doing their job, so I’m guessing sometimes, things don’t work the way they’re supposed to.”

He says it so calmly and rationally when I’m feeling anything but, and it seems so strange that he can be calm in a moment like this. Then again, I’ve had to stay calm in the face of absolute nightmares. When I found out about what Brian had done, once the medical examiner’s report dropped, Iknew. I didn’t questionit for a second. But I stayed calm because I had to. Because of my baby.

“You should talk to a doctor about it,” I tell Gabe. “See if it’s something they can test. How often this happens. And we’ll schedule a paternity test as soon as possible. I know they can do them in vitro now.”

“I don’t need a paternity test. I know that baby’s mine.”

“We should get it anyway. Peace of mind.”

“Hey.” Gabe takes me by the jaw and tilts my head up so I have to meet him in the eye when I don’t immediately look at him.

The way he looks at me, his eyes wild, his pupils blown slightly, his complexion off and forehead creased, sets my heart pounding. I’m so spun it’s hard to think. And then his thumb traces over my lip, so light and thoughtless, a gentle caress.

“Hey,” he says more gently, maneuvering us out of the bathroom and into the bedroom with slow, careful steps. Herding me with a soft look and a soft touch until we reach the bed. He sits there on the box spring, barren since he pulled the mattress off of it and left it on the floor, a promise he’d always come back. He sits on that box spring and sets me on my feet in front of him, and he’s low enough that we have a rare moment of leveled eyes.

“I don’t need that test,” he says as I continue to resist him. “I definitely don’t want you to do anything while the baby’s in here.” He brings one palm to my belly and smiles. He actually smiles, like he’s totally fine with this. “But do you need peace of mind?”

I frown and shake my head. “What? No.Iknow you’re the father.” My balance wavers as it hits me what he said, what Isaid. Gabe’s knees go to my hips to support me, and I brace myself on his thighs. “Oh god, no. Gabe, I don’t—I didn’t meanI’mquestioning that. Not at all.”

“I know. I only meant if you’re scared that I’m going to ghost you, I won’t. So if you need that test, I’ll take it. And whatever else you need. Whatever you need to do, whatever you need me to do, anything.” He moves that hand away from my belly, instead covering my hands with his. His eyes stay firmly on mine. “And if you’re not okay with this, I’ll support whatever you need there, too.”

I blink a couple times to figure out if what he’s saying makes sense and I’m just struggling, if he’s saying if I don’t want him to father my child or support me or . . . I don’t even know what. I have no idea what he’s saying.

He finally looks away from me, his eyes shifting meaningfully toward the doorway that leads to the hallway and the room across the way.

The nursery.

But then he sweeps my knees out from under me and scoops me up onto his lap. His lips go to mine, and his kiss is every bit as gentle as his thumb was, but it’s long and deep, his hands spearing my hair to massage my scalp. When his lips part, he tilts so that our foreheads are together, and we share the air between us for several breaths.

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