Page 86 of The One I Hate
I’m rarely speechless. I’ve been talking in full sentences since before I was potty trained. Teachers had to give me time limits in class of how long I could talk when they called on me.
But here I am. Without words.
Charlie’s pregnant.
With my baby.
I’m going to be a dad.
I should be freaking out. Like full-blown, breathing-into-a-bag panic.
But I’m not.
Not at all.
Why am I not freaking out? Me? A dad? I’m the fun uncle. The happy-go-lucky godfather. Never once in Magnolia’s lifetime has Wes asked me to babysit, and with good reason. I don’t know how to take care of a kid. Every fiber in my body should be on high alert panic mode right now.
But it’s not. And I have a feeling why.
It has everything to do with the woman in front of me. She’s the one who has always been different. Made me want different things. Made me think in different ways. The only one I could ever picture a future with.
The mother of my child.
So this might not be happening in the order it should be. Or maybe the order I ever imagined. But I was honest when I said that I wanted a future with Charlie. And if it’s going to include a little mini us, then let’s fucking go.
Oh my God…I’m going to be a dad!
“Simon?” Charlie says, worry in her voice. “Please say something. When you don’t talk that worries me more than anything. It’s unnatural. Please?—”
I don’t let her finish that sentence. She can’t, when I’m kissing the words out of her mouth.
I’ll speak eventually, when I come up with the appropriate words, but until then, she needs to know I’m in. I’m all in. And if I can let her know through my lips, or my touch, then dammit, that’s what I’m going to do.
I cup her face with my hands, brushing away a stray tear that’s coming down her cheek. Our lips are finding a rhythm, and I know there are a lot more pressing issues to deal with, but I just realized that kissing Charlie is about to become a regular thing for me, and that makes me very, very excited.
“Oh my God, we’re having a baby!” My mouth travels down to her stomach, where I start peppering her with kisses. “Hey, little baby. I’m your daddy.”
“Please don’t say daddy. That’s weird.”
“Fine,” I groan. “I’m your dad. Ugh. Boring. Don’t worry, I’ll work on your mama, and she’ll come around to me saying daddy. Or you can come up with a nickname for me. Because you already have one, Baby Bug.”
“Baby Bug?”
“Yup. She’s my Baby Bug. Our Baby Bug. It’s perfect.”
“She? Simon, you found out I was pregnant fifty seconds ago. I found out twenty minutes before that. Let’s cool it on the gender and nicknames and figure out what the hell we’re going to do.”
“We can see who the fun parent is going to be,” I whisper to Baby Bug, leaving one more kiss on Charlie’s stomach, only to be greeted by a dark look that sends a shiver down my spine.
“What I meant to say is that you’re fun, too.”
“That’s what I thought,” Charlie says. “Now, let’s have an actual conversation, please. Because while you’re planning the gender reveal, I’m mildly freaking out. And I was expecting you to be mad or upset, so the whole belly kissing thing is really throwing me for a loop.”
Shit…chill out, Simon.
“Of course. What do you need? What can I get? What do you want me to do?”
She shakes her head, but the small smile on her face is comforting. “Can we just talk? Make sure we’re on the same page?”
