Page 81 of Who's Your Daddy?

I’ve always had this internal gripe about how stoic and withdrawn she can be. And while she’s softened substantially over the last few months, there always seems to be an invisible barrier between us, a certain side of herself that she’s reluctant to show me.

But today, she’s so defeated she doesn’t even have the strength to keep that barrier up. I watch her crumble in front of me. Seeing her like this makes me feel like more of an asshole.

“Shit...I really fucked up. I’m...sorry.” I say again, but it doesn’t seem to remedy anything because the word is simply insufficient.

“Peter! Listen!” The shriek is high-pitched, loud enough to show that she’s becoming frantic. “When I tell you this...about my dad...you can’t hate me.”

I grip her shoulders to calm her down. “Li, I could never hate you.”

She stills. Her breath stops. For that split second, even the tears seem to freeze on her cheeks. “You promise?” Her hazel eyes lock on mine, searching for any kind of confirmation that I mean it. “You promise you won’t hate me? Because...” The tears start up again and her erratic breaths return almost instantly. “Because...Peter...I can’t...I can’t cope with you...”

“Hey,” I say, rubbing her shoulders again. “You’re being a little extreme, don’t you think?”

My attempt at using humor to lighten the mood fails hopelessly because tears continue to stream down her face.

“Promise me.”

Does this woman not understand how far on the other side of the spectrum my feelings for her are? It would take something cataclysmic for me to ever hate her. “I promise I’m not going to hate you.”

“Okay.” She nods, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “That day...that day at the country club...that argument you witnessed after...I kissed you...it wasn’t... it wasn’t... it wasn’t...”

She’s damn near hysterical, almost on the verge of hyperventilating. And the more panicked she gets, the more worried I become. She places one hand on the counter for support, the other rubbing the side of her stomach.

“Are you okay?”

“It’s...ah, it’s just a cramp. I’m fine.”

And that’s my cue. It’s time to put an end to this. I gather her into my arms and pull her to my chest.

“You’re not fine. You need to calm down, okay?” I whisper, gently stroking her hair. “This isn’t good for the baby.”

“Peter...”

“Just breathe.” I inhale and exhale the way our yoga instructor taught us, and she mimics me. I wait for her breathing to slow before I step back to look at her. “A bit better?”

She gives me a halfhearted nod.

I don’t know what transpired between her and her dad that day, but whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not as bad as she thinks it is. And it’s definitely not worth putting my baby under any form of distress.

“Lia, whatever you need to tell me can wait. We’re in this for the long run. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going anywhere. So, this conversation can wait until you’re ready to have it...whenever that may be. And trust me when I say this. No matter when we have it, I’m not gonna hate you, okay?”

Uncertainty is still encompassed in her eyes. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

It’s her tone that causes an inkling of doubt to creep in, and I want to press her on it. But I quickly stomp out the feeling and remind myself that this is the same person who’s so wholesome that the prospect of a one-night stand totally freaked her out. She’s probably just blowing this whole thing out of proportion. I’m sure whatever caused the argument I witnessed is not as bad as she thinks it is.

Besides, it’s not about me. It’s about her wellbeing. As long as she and my baby are fine, nothing else matters.

“That’s okay,” I say. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, too.”

She stares at me for a long time, contemplating if she should let it go for now. “I will...I will tell you, okay? I will...but maybe it is better to wait until I’m not so...emotional.”

“Yeah. There’s no rush.”

“And you promise—”

“I promise, Li.” I use both thumbs to wipe the moisture off her cheeks. “I don’t think...anything could...change...” I stumble with my words because I don’t usually articulate my feelings like this. Probably because I’ve never had feelings like this. “...the way I feel about you.”

“How...” She hesitates as the latent awkwardness hanging in the air ticks up a notch. “How do you feel about me?”

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