Page 99 of Star-Crossed
And with dawning horror, Cy realized that he had absolutely not one fucking clue what to do.
“Shh—” He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder but abruptly abandoned both the gesture and the sound simultaneously, not wanting to silence her feelings or be the source of unwelcome physical touch that might worsen any potential sensory overload. “It’s okay,” he said, instantly realizing that what he’d intended to be comforting sounded trite and dismissive. “What I mean is, it willbeokay.”
But do you know that?Canyou know that?he heard Kiki ask in his head.
“What I’m trying to say is, whatever you decide will be okay. With me,” he quickly added.
Lyra’s face dropped into her hands and, somehow, she cried even harder.
“Not that how I feel about what you decide is the important thing here. Because it’s not.”
The bawling halted just long enough for Lyra to drag in a big, watery gasp before she resumed at an ever-increasing volume.
“Which isn’t to say that I don’t have any feelings about this. Because I do. I’m not some kind of sociopath that just goes around knocking up women and not feeling some kinda way about it. I’m just saying that my feelings—which are entirely my responsibility, by the way—aren’t something that should affect your decision.”
Her inhales now came in quick, reedy double taps for every dramatic, rib-rattling wail.
“Which doesn’t mean I’m trying say you have to make this decision by yourself. We made this happen together, and I’m totally willing to handle the consequences together too.”
Lyra’s back heaved once, twice, before resuming its rhythmic shuddering.
“Not that I have any idea what it’s like to be the one whosebodyhas to handle the consequences. Because I don’t. No man does. Which is a grave miscarriage of biological justice, if you ask me.”
Miscarriage? Really?Kiki demanded in his skull.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“And I’m not saying your body has to handle the consequences at all. With this new job and everything, being pregnant is probably the last thing you want.”
Lyra’s sobs stretched into one, long keen whose note reminded Cy of nothing so much as the ambulance that had brought her here.
“Unless it is,” he said quickly. “In which case, I’m one hundred percent here for that too. Say the word, and I’ll pick up my shit and move to Denver. Because I can actually run the family business remotely, which I discovered while I was ossifying to my couch in self-pity over the last couple weeks. No matter what happens between us, I’m going to be there for my baby.”
Encouraged by the brief pause in her ratcheting whimpers, Cy hurried on.
“And not just in an every-other-weekend kind of way. I’m talking late-night feedings, dirty diapers. Even the blow-outs.” Cy shook his head. “Once you’ve stuck your hand in a rotten stump full of maggots, there isn’t much that can throw you.”
Now, the sounds disappeared altogether, her shaking shoulders the only clue that she was coming completely unraveled.
“As a man, I mean. The kind of shit women put up with on a monthly basis. That’s just…Whew,” he said, swiping a hand across his forehead.
Stop,he bellowed at himself in his head.Just stop.
But alas, for reasons that remained utterly incomprehensible to him, Cy didn’t stop.
Not by a long shot.
“Not that I’m squeamish about that kind of thing,” he said. “I mean, I grew up with sisters, so if it’s a girl, you better believe I’m buying tampons. Or pads. Or cups. I hear those have really come a long way.”
It wasn’t just her shoulders shaking now, but the entire hospital bed. The frame jiggled with a rhythmicsqueak squeak squeakthat might have been vaguely suggestive under other circumstances.
“Which is something I feel totally comfortable discussing, by the way. Like, say, we wanted to give our daughter the sex talk before she leaves for college—”
A soggy snort rattled from Lyra’s sinuses.
“I mean,ifshe wants to go to college,” he said, suddenly aware of how far ahead he’d gotten. “Or trade school, or whatever she—or they—choose. But, uh, my point is—”
