Page 45 of Playboy

Daniel frowns, ducking his head and meeting my eye. “Neither of us is good at this. We just found out, Hannah. Give yourself some grace.”

“No, I mean relationships.” I shrug. “Regardless of how casual. Considering another person’s feelings.” I look away from him again. “There’s never been a person in my life who’s expected me to check in regularly. No one has ever really cared what I’m doing on a day-to-day basis.”

No one. Not my mother. Certainly not my father. Sure, my stepdads check in from time to time and my brothers are great, but they’re all living busy lives. They check in when they can, but not on any regular schedule.

And outside of a very short, horribly cliché marriage and divorce in college, I have never been in a long-term relationship.

Daniel’s dark eyes are fathomless as he assesses me. Like he wishes he could read my mind. But what I’ve given him already is a hell of a lot more than I’ve shared with anyone else, and it’s all I can get through tonight.

He squeezes my hand and takes half a step closer. “Well, I care. I’m probably going to fuck up a lot.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “But if you could just talk to me, that’s all I need.”

“Daniel.” My heart pangs painfully. He deserves so much more than that.

With a press of his finger to my lips, he shakes his head. “I can’t promise that any of the things I’ll say will be clever or right or will make you feel better—in fact, I’ll probably babble stream-of-conscious style most of the time and make you question why you’re with me…”

I inhale, ready to tell him that I’m notwithhim, but with a narrowing of his eye, he’s got me squeezing my lips shut, allowing him to finish.

“But I will talk to you. And that’s all I ask of you. Talk to me, Hannah. It’s the only way we’re going to get through this.”

How the hell did I get so lucky? And why has it taken me this long to realize how wonderful this man is? I point to my mouth, and when he removes his finger, I tilt my head. “Can I do that talking thing now?”

He smiles. “Yes, dream girl.”

“I have an OB appointment tomorrow. Would you like to come?”

His smile widens so much I can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt. “I would love to.”

“The baby is probably so small we won’t even see anything?—”

He wraps his arm around me and leads me down the street. “Baby Hall is the size of a grape.”

“What?”

With a laugh, he pulls me in closer. “I typed in the date we were in Arizona into this app I downloaded. According to it, the baby is about the size of a grape.”

I lift up my thumb and study it. Kind of the same size. Hmm, maybe I do have this mom intuition thing down.

Daniel grasps my hand and kisses it. “What are you thinking about?”

I lace my fingers with his, and while we walk home together, I tell him. Then I tell him about my week. And how I’m feeling. And I make a vow to myself that I’ll keep telling him things. Because he’s right: that’s the only way this is going to work.

SEVENTEEN

DANIEL

My stomach flipsas I pull up to Hannah’s apartment. I’m early. Like thirty minutes early. I didn’t want to risk running into traffic or end up having trouble finding parking—yes, it’s midday in Boston, so it’s probably not actually a concern, but I couldn’t stop stressing about it. We’re going to see the baby this morning. Our baby.

I did a lot of research online after I left Hannah’s last night. Apparently, they typically collect a urine sample to confirm the pregnancy at the first appointment. And depending on how far along the mother is, they may use the doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat.

The minute I read that, my own heartbeat took off. Because from the sound of things, we’re far enough into the pregnancy for that. Today we could hear our child’s heart. A baby that is mine and Hannah’s. My future best friend.

I hope I’m as good of a father as mine is. I hope—fuck, I hope so many things. But really, I just hope our baby is healthy. That everything goes okay today. That Hannah smiles.

My phone rings and I practically jump, feeling caught. Can she see me sitting down here? She probably thinks I’m a fucking stalker, but I figured I’d wait here rather than text her to let herknow I arrived and risk rushing her. It’s my fault I have to wait, not hers.

But when my dad’s name flashes across the screen, I relax and pick up. “Hey, Dad.”

“How was last night?”

---