Page 41 of Top Scorer
“My nausea is mild. If anything, the worst symptoms happened before I found out I was pregnant. Sore and sluggish, I thought I had a nasty flu.”
He simply nods, running slightly trembling fingers through his hair.
Tristan doesn’t show anger or disbelief.
That’s something.
He doesn’t jump off the couch and out the door.
That’s something, too.
“To be clear, I don’t expect anything from you,” I state. “This isn’t about you stepping up. I made the decision for my own reasons. I thought about abortion seriously. I went through thechecklist. Am I stable? Am I safe? Am I enough? And I came out on the other side with a yes across the board. I’m keeping my baby.”
He turns toward me, frowning. “It isn’t justyours, Ligaya.”
“It can be. You don’t have to be involved, Tristan.”
“You think I wouldn’t step up, is that it?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.” I sigh, already tired of my own careful phrasing. “I’ve had the benefit of time to consider this choice. You haven’t. Please, before you say anything, think about whether or not you’re ready for a kid. I’m not functioning from some misplaced pride because the pregnancy is unplanned. I’m being practical and realistic. At the moment, there are few consequences if you walk away now.”
His face hardens. “Sorry to break it to you, Ligaya, but there are definitely consequences if I walk away.”
I nod, once again surprised by how he’s responding to the situation. If John, my ex-boyfriend, had this conversation with me, the first thing he’d ask is if it was his. There’s no one more paranoid than a cheater.
“If you need a paternity test, I get it.”
The green specks in Tristan’s eyes flash bright. “Are you done insulting me?”
My brows crease in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He huffs sternly. “I won’t insult us both by questioning that I’m the father. I take you at your word.”
The weight of that honesty hits me in the chest.
Ireallylook at him for the first time since we sat down. There’s resolve there. Not just concern. Not just obligation. Something like genuine, unwavering determination.
Though maybe I’m projecting.
“I hadn’t slept with anyone for over a year before we got together,” I admit. “And I haven’t slept with anyone else since.”
“Neither have I.”
My eyes sting. I blink quickly and glance away, wrapping the blanket around me and then throwing it off my shoulders. I catch a tear before it falls.
“Don’t mind me. I cry at those car commercials now. The obnoxious ones with bows over the roof. Where do people even get those bows? Fucking capitalism. Ruining Christmas with gigantic bows and luxury vehicles.”
“Are you crying because you hate the bows or because you begrudginglylikethem?”
“I don’t know! That was an unsolicited rant, Tristan. Let me live!”
He runs his palm over his mouth like he’s holding back another comment. Tristan’s eyes land on my stomach. No bump yet. Just me in my old shirt and tattered leggings. When our gazes catch, something gentler flickers in his gaze.
“Can I ask you something?” Tristan asks.
“Sure.”
“Are you scared?”
