Page 61 of Love is a Game

And supremely angry.

My hands fist as the impact of his words solidifies inside me, so that, when it finally comes, my voice is as hard as steel.

“I’m going to do you a massive favor and sidebar the fact you’re suggesting I’m actually incapable of caring for a child—”

He holds a halting finger. “Not ‘incapable’. Just that it would take a whole different mindset, Pen.”

I glare at him with the force of a Star Wars turbo laser. “How about we start with why the hell I would abruptly stop using condoms because I’m considering having a child?”

I note the shift in Tuck’s eyes. The evaluation taking place. He’s momentarily torn. No doubt sensing my white-hot anger. But kudos to the male ego, he opts to double down.

“The aim is to have a baby.” He cocks his head. “Takes an egg and sperm. You got the eggs, I got the sperm.”

I lean on the headboard for support, having just learned the true meaning of the termflabbergasted. The true, soul-deep meaning of the word.

Then my anger collides with tequila haze, exhaustion, and the emotional wreckage of the past days. The whole absurdity of this conversation sweeps over me.

And I burst into unrestrained laughter.

Full-bodied, tears-in-my-eyes laughter.

Tuck’s face freezes.

He grabs his shirt from the floor, his jaw flexing.

Still, I can’t stop. Not until the laughter runs out of steam and something colder, sharper takes its place.

I inhale, swallowing the remnants of hysteria. “Tuck, I’m sorry…it’s just. Funny.”

His chin juts forward. “What’s so funny about it?”

“You. Me.A baby?” I shake my head because it’s self-explanatory. “It would be an unmitigated disaster.”

His expression darkens, his knuckles going white against the t-shirt twisted in his grip.

“Why?”

“Why?” I shrug helplessly. “Why is the sky blue? Why does water boil at…whatever temperature it boils? It’s just how things are, Tuck. We’re completely incompatible.Us with a child? We can’t agree on anything! We’d ruin a kid before it even got out of diapers.”

His face is a thundercloud, his eyes bright with something I can’t quite name. Anger, sure. But something else, too. Something deeper.

And I guess this is where a lesser man would storm out. Exit my life and slam the door for good measure.

But not Tuck.

He stares at me. Grim. Unmoving.

Then, slowly, he folds his arms across his chest.

“That’s a unilateral conclusion, Penelope,” he says firmly. “Based on unverified assumptions.” He turns to the desk. “So, there’s only one way to resolve this.”

“Really?” I ask, incredulous. “And what’s that?”

“Let’s debate it.”

Chapter 19

Tuck

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