Page 80 of Who's Your Daddy?

She freezes, her head twisting so fast in my direction I’m surprised she doesn’t sprain her neck. “Did you invite them?”

“Well...no.”

Her expression changes from chirpy to slightly hostile. “Why not?"

“Because they’re...busy.” I shrug. “They wouldn’t have come even if I invited them.”

“But how do you know if you never asked?”

“Because I know.”

This is not a satisfactory response because her hostility morphs into anger. “This is the third time I’ve asked you to invite your parents over, and every time there’s some excuse. Time is running out. I’m almost at twenty-five weeks. I would like to meet them before the baby comes, but it’s like you don’t even want me to meet them. Are you scared they won’t...approve because we’re not married? Do you think they won’t like me?”

“You’re overthinking again.” I cross the kitchen and grasp her shoulders. “My parents would love you. There’s no question about that. But I gotta be honest, Li, you probably won’t meet them anytime soon. My sister’s studying in London. My parents are always flitting around the globe for premieres and red-carpet events. They’re...busy.”

She’s horrified by this. “So, what you’re saying is that they just don’t care. How can they not care? About you? About their grandchild?”

“You’re getting worked up over nothing.” I give her shoulders a quick squeeze before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “It’s not that they don’t care. They just have other priorities. When I told my dad we were having a baby, he sent me a thumbs-up emoji. That seems callous, but I know that means he’s happy for us. That’s just our family dynamic. We care, but...from afar. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“How can you say there’s nothing wrong with that? So, you expect me to be fine with our baby just having absent grandparents?”

“Yes. Now, let it go.” I turn to walk out of the kitchen, and she follows me.

“Please, just ask them to come.”

I let out a groan as I head up the stairs. “Thanksgiving is tomorrow. It’s too short notice. They’re not gonna come.”

“I’m asking you to ask them.”

“And I’m asking you to let this go.”

“Peter, I would like to build a relationship with your parents, and I would like for our baby to know them. I want him to know his grandparents.”

“Then why don’t you ask your parents, Li?” I snap. “Our baby doesn’t only have one set of grandparents, so quit nagging me about this. If you want him to know his grandparents, pick up the phone, call your dad, and ask him to come over for Thanksgiving lunch.”

She goes as still as stone, the color draining from her face. She doesn’t even breathe for a few beats. Tears brim in her eyes, and she blinks rapidly to stop them from falling. “Forget I asked.”

She turns on her heel, goes back down the stairs, and returns to the kitchen, leaving me standing there feeling like the biggest jerk in the world. That was a low blow. It wasn’t my intention to upset her. I just wanted to point out that the lack of parental involvement wasn’t only coming from my side. But family is the most important thing to her. It’s a fundamental part of who she is, and throwing her broken now broken family dynamic in her face when they were once so close was shitty thing for me to do.

I spend about ten minutes debating if I should go talk to her. Maybe it’s better if I just give her some time to calm down. My plan for today was to sort out the crib. I can’t go back to sleep, so I might as well get started on that. I walk down the hall to the room that stands on the opposite side of the bedroom that was once Lia’s (for a grand total of two days).

My resolve weakens as soon as I open the door. Cat did a phenomenal job with this room. She incorporated every tiny detail we wanted and then added her own artistic twist. The burst of vibrant colors makes it an enchanting playground of imagination, which she meticulously designed to showcase all the characters. The 3D mural she sculpted has Mavis and Jonathan holding Dennis in the foreground with Drac, Frankenstein, the Mummy, the Invisible Man, and Wayne the werewolf all doing random things in the back.

Against the opposite wall, we set up a changing station adorned with bat-winged accessories and a diaper genie disguised as a mini version of Blobby. Cat custom-made that for us, too.

It hits me hard every time I walk in here because this room is a product of us. Our likes. Our tastes. Our inside joke. And we designed it for this tiny person who’s a product of us too. This room is so deeply personal to me because every detail allows me to envisage our future. Me changing his diaper. Lia rocking him to sleep in the chair near the window. This was never the future I imagined for myself and now I can’t picture it any other way.

My eyes drift to the box in the middle of the room, and I can’t even bring myself to walk over and open it. We were supposed to do this together, and it doesn’t feel right to do anything in this room alone. I march my ass straight back down the stairs to the kitchen.

Lia’s hunched over the counter, weeping so bitterly that I want to punch myself in the face. I’m a dick. That was such an insensitive thing to say. I cross the kitchen to stand beside her.

“Hey, Li,” I say, and I can hear the shame in my voice. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her head snaps up, and she quickly swipes the tears off her cheeks. “No, Peter. It’s not you. It’s...it’s me.”

I’ll be the first to admit that she has been an emotional mess throughout this pregnancy, sometimes bursting into tears over the smallest of things. But this time, I have to take full accountability. “No, it’s definitely me. I know how important family is to you. And I know how hard this whole situation with your dad has been on you. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“Listen to me, okay?” She swallows, struggling to get the words out through her sobs. “There’s some...some things you don’t...know, and that’s why you...you...you don’t understand why it...hurts me so much.”

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