Page 87 of The One I Hate
“Yes. Perfect. Talking. I’m great at talking. First, obviously, you’re moving in with me.”
Her eyes go wide. “Whoa! Wait a hot second. Who said anything about moving in together?”
“Me. Just now. When you asked me to talk.”
“Simon…” I’m trying to read her right now, but it’s hard. She’s taking deep breaths. Her eyes are closed. It reminds me ofwhen I was little and my mom was trying to reason with me but I was being…well, me. That’s probably not a good sign.
“Let’s take eighteen steps back. You came over here today to ask me to date you. Which I haven’t even agreed to yet.”
“Wait! Does having a baby together not automatically mean we’re together?”
She shakes her head. “Can we put a pause on the whole us dating thing? I haven’t properly freaked out about the whole I’m having a baby thing, and I’d really like to do that first.”
Oh. Shit. What an asshole I am. Here I go, yet again, only thinking about myself, when it’s her feelings and her emotions that I need to be taking cues from.
“I’m sorry,” I say, opening my arms, which she comes into. “How about this? Let’s freak out together.”
“You’re freaked? What happened to Baby Bug and stomach kisses?”
“I’m a multitasker,” I say, squeezing her tighter. “I might be excited. And I’m all in. But now that you’re making me sit here and think, the freak-out is coming.”
She laughs, though I can tell the dam has broken. She’s crying again. She grabs onto my shirt, clinging to me, as we both let our emotions even out. At this point, though, I hope she’s holding onto me for comfort and not because she thinks I’m going to run.
I’m not.
“We’re going to have a baby,” she whispers.
I kiss the top of her head and brush the hair off her forehead. “We’re going to have a baby.”
“Do you still hate me?”
Her question kind of takes me by surprise, but I’m glad she asked it. “No. I never hated you. Not really. Was I angry for years? Yes. Was I angry the other night when you told me? Yes.”
“I don’t blame you,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I need to say that again. I should have confronted you. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“Thank you for the apology, but I meant what I said. It was the past. And who knows what would have happened. We can woulda, coulda, shoulda ourselves until we’re blue in the face. But that’s not going to do either of us any good.”
“You’re right,” she says, turning herself so she’s lying against my chest. “Why live in the past when our present just got a little more interesting?”
I laugh and let my hand travel down to her stomach. Obviously she’s not showing yet, but the thought of us being in this same position, her back against my front, as we sit on the couch together, my hands on her swollen, pregnant belly, makes me overly excited in many, many ways.
“One stupid night,” she mumbles.
“One drunk night.”
“One unsafe night.”
“Oneepicnight.”
This makes her laugh. “What are we going to do, Simon?”
I kiss her head again. “We’re going to have a baby. We’re going to figure us out as we go along, and in the meantime, we’re going to get ready for the blessing we didn’t know we needed.”
She sits up and turns to me. “But are we ready? You’re…well…”
“A grown-ass manchild who you’re questioning if he’s ready for the responsibility of fatherhood?”
She shrugs. “I was trying to say that nicely.”
