Page 83 of Pregnant in Plaid
"Is there?"
"Yes." He kisses me softly. "Partners means we're in this together. We both bring something to the table. We both make decisions. We both screw up and figure it out."
God, I want to believe him. Every word.
But then I remember my conversation with Lauren at the wedding. Lauren, my old coworker from the Florida office. Lauren, who mentioned that my old position is still open because they haven't found anyone to replace me yet.
"I need to tell you something," I say.
"Okay."
"At the wedding, I talked to Lauren. She works—worked—with me at the company in Florida." I pause. "She was at Tessa's bachelorette party too, actually. That's why she flew up for the wedding."
Trace tenses slightly. "And?"
"And she said my old job is still available back in Florida. They haven't filled the position yet." I take a breath. "Apparently the person they hired to replace me lasted three days before quitting. Said the workload was too intense. So, the position's open again, and Lauren said if I wanted to come back, she could put in a word with HR. They'd probably even give me a raise since they're desperate."
The silence stretches between us. I can feel his heartbeat under my palm, steady but faster than before.
"That's... a good opportunity," he says finally, his voice carefully neutral.
"It is."
"Do you want to go back?" he asks.
"I don't know." I close my eyes. "I don't know anything anymore. A month ago, I had a plan. I was going to take the job here, have the baby, figure everything out on my own because that's what I do. I figure things out alone. But then the company shut down, and I ended up here, and now everything's different."
"Differenthow?"
"Different like—" I open my eyes and look at him. "Different like I'm falling in love with you, and it scares me more than anything else in my life ever has."
His breath catches. "You're falling in love with me?"
"I think so. Maybe. I don't know." I cover my face with my hands. "God, I'm a mess. I just had sex with you and now I'm talking about potentially moving back to Florida. I'm the worst."
"Hey." He gently pulls my hands away. "Look at me."
I do.
"I'm scared too," he says. "I'm terrified I'm going to screw this up. That I'll be a terrible father. That you'll wake up one day and realize you settled for a guy who carves wood for a living and lives in the middle of nowhere."
"That's not?—"
"But I'm here anyway," he continues. "Because being scared doesn't mean we run. It means we choose to stay and figure it out together."
"What if I can't do that?" My voice breaks. "What if I'm too broken, too independent, too scared to be the partner you need?"
"Then we work on it. Together." He pulls me closer. "But you have to decide, Patrice. Do you want to try? Or do you want to run back to Florida and wonder what could have been?"
I don't answer. I can't.
Because the truth is, I don't know what I want.
And that terrifies me most of all.
We lie there in the dark, tangled together but somehow further apart than we've ever been. The baby kicks again, and I rest my hand on my stomach.
Stay or go. Love or safety. Alaska or the life I knew.
