Page 57 of Who's Your Daddy?

The sudden attack comes out of left field, and I sit there stunned as I try to collect myself. “Peter, I am so confused right now. You wanted an out. I’m giving it to you. Last week, you told me—”

“Last week, I was a jerk, okay? I’m sorry. I never should’ve reacted like that. And then it took me a whole week to get my head out of my ass. When I overheard you in the store earlier, stressing about how you were gonna pay for everything...that’s a stress you never should’ve had.” He hangs his head. “At the very least, I should’ve let you know that you didn’t have to worry about money, so I’m sorry for that, too. I’m having a hard time looking at you because...I feel so ashamed that I did that to you.” He finally lifts his eyes to meet mine. “But I’m done being an immature asshole. I’ve thought about this long and hard, and I don’t want to be relegated to the sidelines of my kid’s life. I don’t want anout.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want you to move in with me.”

“Peter, I don’t—”

“Before you say that you don’t want a guy like me, let me make it clear that I’m not suggesting a relationship. You know how I feel about marriage. I know I’m the furthest thing from what you’re looking for in a husband. So, I’m not saying that we should try to make thisworkfor the sake of the baby. I’m just asking you to move in with me, so I know that you’re safe and you’re comfortable. That’s all I want. Nothing else. Going back to what we had before isn’t going to work because...having the physical stuff with nothing emotional behind it is not gonna be sustainable long-term. It’s going to lead to complications, and I don’t want to risk ruining the dynamic between us for something that’s not gonna go anywhere.”

Hearing that stings more than I care to admit, but it’s true. Though, I’m still not sure what this arrangement entails. “I’m sorry. I’m still not understanding. You want me to move in, but we’re not together, but we kinda are because we’re raising a baby together. What are you saying?”

“I’m suggesting some kind of joint custody or co-parenting arrangement. You can have your own room, your own space. When you get to a point where you can afford a decent place, we can figure out a solution that works for both of us. That choice is entirely up to you. I’m not putting on any time limitations. I’m in it for, like, the next twenty years. So, you can stay with me as long as you like, but there’s absolutely no way I’m letting you live in that motel.”

It's not a great idea. He’s made this offer before, and we ended up sleeping together that very same night.

“This sounds very familiar. We tried this before, remember? And it didn’t work out so well the last time.”

“That’s because you shot me down every time I tried to get to know you...then you told me that us getting to know each other was a futile exercise...then you left the next day without saying a word...andthenyou gave me the cold shoulder when I came to the motel to see you again.” Sarcasm mildly colors his tone, and after a light sneer, a sardonic smile quirks his lips up. “Don’t worry. I got that message loud and clear. Rejection accepted without any injury to my brain.”

Wow!There’s a misinterpretation if I’ve ever seen one.

I was talking about how we weren’t able to keep sex out of it the last time, but he seems to have taken the words‘didn’t work out’in a relationship context. He just said a minute ago that doing the physical stuff with nothing emotional behind it is not going to be sustainable long-term. I thought he was talking about himself. Now I’m starting to wonder if he meant thatI’mthe one who’s lacking emotions.

That’s not true at all. I care about him. A lot. So much so that I was trying to prevent him from getting sucked into my drama and shouldering burdens that aren’t his to bear, and he misinterpreted that too because he took it asrejection. I can see the hurt in his eyes, but he plays it off as if it’s nothing.

“Peter, I didn’t leave because—”

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” He reaches out to take my hands again, a sign that he harbors no animosity toward me or what happened between us. “It doesn’t matter. What matters now is our baby.” He stops as if someone just slapped him in the face. “Fuck, it feels weird to say that...but yeah, you...andourbaby are my most important priorities right now. So, let’s just put the past and all our differences aside and focus on what’s best for him.”

He’s so sincere that I feel myself softening even more. I came in here ready to throw flames, and now he’s turning me into mush. It’s an odd skill of his, and probably the quality I like most. There’s a tenderness about him that’s very disarming. Beneath his ego and cocky attitude is someone I wasn’t expecting at all. He’s a loyal friend. He cares deeply about the people closest to him. And he’s always willing to help, even if it negatively impacts him. I had to peel back multiple layers to see it, but it’s there, embedded in the very core of him.

“Or her,” I add.

“Aaaah.” He cringes, dropping his head onto his forearm again. “Shit.” After a deep breath, he looks up at me again. “I’m trying really hard not to freak out, so...can wenoteven entertain the possibility that it might be a girl until, like, the second trimester?”

I pull my lips in to stop a smile. “Are you worried about what karma has in store for you if it’s a girl?”

The chuckle that pops out of him is filled with trepidation. “I’m terrified.”

I’m not melting. I’m not melting. I’m not melting.

I keep chanting this in my head even as the widest smile takes over my face. I don’t know why hearing that made me so happy. I don’t know why I find the panicked expression on his face so cute.

“Whatever you get, you deserve it,” I say.

“I know.” He gently squeezes my hands again. “So, are we doing this?”

I mull it over and come to the conclusion that he’s right. We need to put our own feelings aside and do what’s best for our baby. “Okay,” I reply with a nod.

“Okay.”

He waits for me to eat my fries, and we talk about menial things for over two hours. I’ve been so stressed these last few weeks that it feels good to finally unwind. When the sun starts to set, we drive back to my motel to pick up my stuff. It feels different when we get back to his place. Instinctively, I want to head upstairs to his bedroom, but that’s not what we agreed on. I subdue the urge and follow him down the corridor to one of the guest bedrooms.

He drops the trash bags containing all my clothes and shoes on the bed, then helps me unpack and refold my clothes. I have to teach him how to do this properly because he has a cleaning service that comes in to do all this for him.

I ask him to pack all my high-heeled shoes on the top shelf because I won’t be using them for some time, and while he stacks the boxes, I disappear into the bathroom to have a shower.

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