Page 67 of Who's Your Daddy?

By the time we leave, my legs feel like lead. I’ve been operating at such a high level of emotion for the last thirty minutes that I’m saturated and numb as we walk back to my car. I lag a few steps behind Lia, and eventually, she stops walking and turns to face me.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Just thinking.”

“About what?” The way she twiddles with her fingers tells me she’s nervous about my response.

“I’m just...I’m trying to figure out if you ruined my life...or made it worth living.”

She rushes toward me, throwing her arms around me to hug me tight. I stand there on the sidewalk, holding her as life continues around us. Cars drive by. People walk past. But we’re locked in this moment that everyone else around us doesn’t understand.

That moment is short-lived, though. She awkwardly pulls away and takes a step back. Her stoic mask falls back into place, and she crosses her arms over her chest. She did the same thing when we got back to my house on Sunday night, and she hugged me in her bedroom. She did the same thing earlier when she held my hand.

It’s a repetitive pattern. She tries to remain distant and withdrawn, but every now and then, she slips and lets me in. She only allows me to see the tiniest glimpse of emotion before she pulls away again.

“Sorry about that,” she says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I was just—”

“Stop apologizing, Lia. I was in there too.”

I want her to acknowledge that we just experienced something magical and profound together, but all I get is a small nod and a meager smile.

Maybe it’s because we’re shell-shocked and overwhelmed, but the conversation does not progress much beyond that point. We’re quiet during the drive home. We opt out of dinner because she’s queasy and I’m too anxious to eat.

By eight, we’re both in bed, but I can’t fall asleep. I keep staring at this ultrasound picture. Minutes tick by, and I get lost in all the possibilities the future holds. This tiny little thing has changed my life forever. It’s unfathomable how this blurry image is making me want to be a better man. I need to step up and take charge because March will be here before I know it.

Everything Dylan and Scott said to me today is still weighing heavily on my mind.

“You own twelve apartment buildings. But you asked her to move in with you. Why is that?”

The answer is simple. I care about her. Maybe a little too much. It’s just hard to admit it (even to myself) because it’s kinda one-sided. Lia is the only woman I’ve ever wanted to pursue something beyond a one-night stand, but sex is the only thing she thinks I have to offer. So, I’m now stuck in a stalemate, and I’m not sure how to get out of it.

I hear a light tap on my door and look up. “Hey, Li. What’re you doing up? It’s past eleven. I thought you’d be sleeping by now.”

“I can’t sleep. Too pumped.”

“Same.”

“Care to indulge me in my excessive need for pictures? You need to come to my room, though. The lighting is amazing on the balcony, and I want a few in the moonlight.”

I try to ignore the irritation the words‘my room’invoke. I also grit my teeth and pretend as if the black satin button-down pajamas she’s wearing doesn’t bug the shit out of me. “Sure,” I reply, standing up.

Her eyes linger a little too long on my bare chest before she shakes it off and walks down the hall toherroom. I follow her in, and she hands me her phone.

“Okay, so I was reading this website, and it said that at eight to nine weeks, the baby is the size of a grape.” She holds up a grape. “I want to take a picture each week with something that shows his size, so we can see how he grows.”

I take the grape from her hand to study it. “Really? This is how small he is?”

“Yeah, now imagine that with tiny arms on it.”

I smile, the emotions I felt earlier flooding right back. Excitement officially ranks in the top ten. She lifts her pajama top halfway and holds the grape against her stomach. She’s a bit of a perfectionist because she makes me take the picture about fifteen times.

She wants it at the exact right angle with the exact right pose and doesn’t settle for anything less. We go out onto the balcony and as I take each picture, a slow churning begins in my stomach. With the moonlight casting a warm white glow over her skin and hair, she looks almost angelic, and I’m reminded of how beautiful she truly is.

Dylan’s voice is echoing in my head:“You didn’t say she didn’t want you. You said she didn’t want a guy like you.”

Maybe that’s the reason she keeps pulling away. Maybe she’d want something more if I offered something more. Those words mess with my head. I start toying with the idea of walking back the arrangement we made at the diner two days ago. The idea is tempting, almost overpowering, but I dismiss it as outrageous a few seconds later.

I hand her back her phone, then turn to walk back inside. Returning to my roomalonegrinds me because all of this feels so wrong. I hate the distance. I hate that she’s sleeping in here instead of with me. But most of all, I hate her goddamn pajamas.

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