Page 17 of Broken Clocks
I handed him a wipe from my glove compartment.
“Thank you,” he said when he took it.
I adjusted my bra. Smoothed down my skirt. “No. Thank you.”
“For what?” He frowned.
“For that. I needed to get fucked.”
“Okay,” he replied, like he was trying to figure something out. And I knew then I had thrown him off balance. He wasn’t used to getting exactly what he wanted—a quick fuck.
He still had the condom halfway on when I cranked my engine.
“When can I see you again?” he asked, hand bracing the open door.
I smiled without teeth. “Text me.”
His brows pinched, like he wasn’t sure if I’d insulted him or not. He didn’t move.
I tapped the wheel with my nail. One beat. Two.
Yes. You’re being dismissed.
Finally, he slid out. Slowly.
I waved as I pulled off, not even glancing back again. Patting myself on the back for flipping the script, for fucking and leaving, like he wanted to do me.
But even as the night swallowed his figure in the rearview, victory didn’t feel as good as I thought it would.
And if I’m being real...
I would’ve never fucked him if I knew I’d feel this empty after.
Chapter Eight- Eshe
One Year, Two Months Later
I stared at him for a full three seconds before saying it.
"I'm pregnant."
I took off my rarely worn glasses and set them on the coffee table. The book in my lap? Forgotten. I’d been pretending to read, trying to build up the courage to tell him. After three days of carrying it around in my chest like a bomb, I just blurted it out.
He choked mid-sip on the Corona he was drinking, coughing so hard I thought he’d pass out.
"What?" he gasped, eyes bulging. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then sat up and paused the basketball game. The room fell silent.
"I'm pregnant," I repeated. Slower. Clearer. We locked eyes. I made sure he caught every syllable.
His face went pale—as pale as a dark-skinned man’s face could. I didn’t even know that was possible.
"You can’t be. I pull out."
I raised an eyebrow and gave him thatnigga, pleaselook. Too many nights he’d held me tight, whispered my name while he came deep inside me, stayed there even after, wrapped aroundme like a second skin. And how many times had he slid it back in, soft and sleepy, just before dawn?
Subconsciously, I knew he wanted this. A part of him did.
"Okay, sometimes I pull out," he mumbled, scratching his neck. "But I thought you were on the pill."
