Page 204 of The Single Dads Club
Clearing my throat, I forced myself to focus, thrusting the bag in my hand toward her.
“Look, I think I messed up and I get it if you’re not ready to talk, but I wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I was moving too fast and with everything else…I can see why it would have freaked you out.”
She was quiet, her gaze locked on my outstretched hand, and she cocked her head.
“What’s this?” she asked, then took the bag from me.
“It’s candy.”
“Did you rob a convenience store?” She rustled the bag, dipped in a hand and pulled out three different kinds of chocolate bars.
“I didn’t know what you liked or if you were allergic to anything, so I just got everything and figured your favorite would be in there.”
She fished through, taking her time, finally pulling out a package of Twizzlers. “You were right.”
“Not a chocolate girl?”
She shook her head. “I mean, I like it, but not if there’s licorice in the room. Uh”—she scrubbed a hand over the back of her neck as she stepped to the side—“did you want to come in?”
“I would love that.” I entered her little foyer, then glanced around. The layout of her apartment was actually similar to my own, even if her little loft favored exposed brick to wide glass windows.
She closed the door behind me and led me to the khaki-colored sofa. Her lips tilted into a strained smile as she handed me the remote. “Turn on whatever you want. I’m going to put on some pants.”
Part of me—the part I needed to keep a tight rein on—wanted to tell her not to. To ask her to stay here until she was ready for me to peel away that robe again. But instead I nodded and reached in my pocket, waiting until she had left the room to look at the envelope in my hands.
This, too, had been part of my plan. Maybe if the uncertainty of the baby was eliminated from the picture, we would be able to move forward like two rational adults. We would know how serious to be—how fast to move.
Maybe it had all been a dumb idea in the first place.
I ran over in my mind what I wanted to say, but then Bren reappeared and the words died in my throat. Even in gray yoga pants and a baggy T-shirt, she made my blood run hot, and I had to tear my gaze away. I couldn’t even help the way my gaze traveled to her abdomen, struggling to see the tiniest hint of a bump.
“You didn’t turn the TV on,” she said.
“No,” I said. “Look, I’ve been thinking and there are some things I want to tell you.”
She crossed her arms over her tiny frame, her face wary again.
Shit.
Exactly the opposite of what I’d been going for here.
“Like what?” she asked.
“All we’ve got is this one life and mistakes are inevitable. We’re going to fall short, we’re going to fall flat on our ass sometimes, but the thing I don’t want to do is be too afraid to say yes to something that makes me happy.” I reached for the envelope again. “I guess what I’m really trying to say is that I know I messed up, but I don’t want us to just walk away from each other like that and I think the real problem here is that we don’t know how seriously to take any of this.”
“So what do you think we should do?” she asked, her tone tentative.
“I think we should know, really know, whether you’re pregnant or not.”
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, and then she sighed and sank into a seat opposite me. “I’ve been thinking too. I flipped out when I shouldn’t have. The whole…intimacything can get to me sometimes. And I have to admit, I don’t like the uncertainty with regard to the baby question.”
“Then let’s take the uncertainty away. Let’s open the envelope.”
She looked from the envelope to me, then gave me one quick nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. We should know.”
“Okay.” I nodded.
“But maybe first, let’s make it special or something.”
