Page 57 of Pregnant in Plaid
"You were absolutely moping. I had to listen to it for months." He leans back. "And now she's here, pregnant with your kid, staying in your cabin. What are you waiting for?"
"For her not to run screaming the second I tell her how I feel?"
"Fair." He considers this. "But you're going to have to tell her eventually."
"Yeah. Eventually."
"Before she gets on a plane back to Florida would be good."
That thought makes my stomach drop. "She's not leaving. She said she'd stay through the wedding."
"And after?"
"I don't know." I turn the bottle in my hands. "She won't talk about after."
"Then make her want to stay."
"How?"
"Tell her the truth," Gage says. "That you want her here. That you want to do this together. That you—" He stops. "That you love her."
"I can't just say that."
"Why not?"
"Because what if she doesn't feel the same way? What if it scares her off?"
"And what if it doesn't?" He finishes his beer. "Worst case, she says no and you're in the same spot you're in now. Best case? You get everything you want."
I open my mouth to argue, but Jake calls out from behind the bar. "Alright, gentlemen. Bachelor party tradition—everyone shares their worst parenting moment. Trace, Gage, consider this your education."
"Oh god," I mutter.
"This should be good," Gage says.
Derek goes first. "Kid number two. She was about six months old. I'm changing her diaper, everything's going great. Then she sneezes and simultaneously poops, and I get hit with both ends at once. I'm talking full-on biohazard situation."
Everyone laughs except me and Gage.
"That can happen?" I ask weakly.
"Oh yeah. Babies are tiny chaos machines." Derek grins. "But that's not even the worst part. The worst part is my wife walked in, took one look at me covered in baby fluids, and just said 'Welcome to fatherhood' and walked out."
"Did she help you?" Gage asks.
"Eventually. After she stopped laughing." Derek shrugs. "Point is, you're going to get destroyed by bodily fluids. Accept it now."
"I'm not ready for this," I say.
"Nobody is," Tyler chimes in. "My kid projectile vomited on me during his baptism. In front of everyone. The priest had to pause the ceremony."
"Jesus."
"That's what the priest said too."
More laughter. I take a long drink of my beer.
"It's not all horror stories," Ben says. He's quieter than the others, more serious. "My daughter is two now. Last week she learned to say 'love you' and now she says it constantly. Just random times throughout the day. 'Love you, Daddy.' Like she can't help herself."
