Page 122 of Knocked Up by My Fake Fiancé
"Maybe. Someday," she says slowly. "If I found the right person and wasn't so busy. But right now…" She trails off.
"Right now?" I prompt.
"I… just don't know."
I nod, taking that in. It makes sense. "Then just know—whatever you decide, I'm with you. All in."
"Thanks." She lets out a shaky breath, the tension easing from her shoulders. "I've been so worried about telling you. I know I should've done it sooner, and I'm sorry. I just thought you'd be mad. I thought it might be… the end of us."
"And that mattered to you?"
She nods, eyes flicking away. Seeing it, hope stirs in my chest. Maybe she really does love me—maybe she just hasn't admitted it yet, even to herself.
"What about you?" she asks softly. "How do you feel about it? It's your child too."
I smile faintly. "Do you really want to know?"
"Yes."
"I'm not going to tell you."
She blinks. "Why not?"
"Because you have to decide first. I don't want you making a decision just to please me. That wouldn't be fair. You choose what's right for you—then I'll tell you what I think."
Inside, though, I can't stop the images forming in my head: Jenna, me, and a tiny girl with her eyes and her stubborn little smile—sass and sweetness rolled into one. I'd spoil her rotten.
Or maybe it would be a boy. I imagine teaching him to ride a bike, shooting hoops together, watching him grow strong and confident.
Either way, it doesn't matter.
But it all depends on what Jenna wants. Her happiness comes first. If she chooses not to keep it, I'll accept that. I have to.
Like her, I was never sure about fatherhood. It always seemed like something meant for "later," for when I found the right person.
When Marina and I fell apart, I buried the thought entirely—threw myself into work and never looked back.
But now, hearing the wordpregnantin Jenna's voice, I can't help the flicker of excitement inside me.
Still, I keep it buried. She needs space to decide for herself.
"All you need to know," I tell her quietly, "is that I'll support you—no matter what."
She leans in and kisses my cheek. "You're a great guy, you know that?"
"I do."
She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Cocky."
"Always."
She shoves me playfully, and I grab her hand, pulling her down with me. Her laughter fills the room again, light and full of relief.
For the first time since she spoke those words—I'm pregnant—it feels like we're breathing the same air again.
The next day is Saturday, and partly to give Jenna some private space and time to think, I head over to visit my sister. The other reason is that she's been acting off lately, and I want to make sure she's okay. She's the only one in my family I actually feel close to, maybe because we're the closest in age. I came first, she arrived a year later, and George didn't show up until six years after her.
Steph answers the door looking irritated, still in pajamas, her hair a wild mess despite it being well past noon.
