Page 88 of Pregnant in Plaid
"That's not your call to make!"
"I'm the father! I have rights!"
"Rights?" She laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You didn't even know about these rights two weeks ago! You had no idea this baby even existed! And now you're trying to—what? Control me? Keep me here because it's convenient for you?"
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it? You want me to stay because of the baby. Not because of me. Because you feel obligated. Responsible."
"That's not true." I move toward her, but she steps back. "Patrice, I love you. I told you that last night."
"People say a lot of things during sex."
The words hit like another slap. I stop moving. "You don't believe me."
"I don't know what I believe!" Her voice cracks. "Idon't know anything anymore. I came here for Tessa's wedding. A good plan. And then everything fell apart, and I ended up staying here, and you've been wonderful and kind and perfect, but?—"
"But what?"
"But what if it's all just because I'm pregnant?" She's crying now, tears streaming down her face. "What if you're just doing what you think you're supposed to do? And six months from now, when the baby is screaming at three in the morning and I'm exhausted and gross and you're tired of playing house, you'll realize this was all a mistake? Kick me and the baby out."
"That's not going to happen."
"You don't know that!"
"Neither do you!" I run my hands through my hair, frustrated and desperate. "You're making up scenarios to justify running away!"
"I'm not running away!" she shouts.
"Then what do you call it?" I shout back. "You booked a flight, packing your bags, and leaving! That's literally the definition of running away!"
"I'm going back to my life!"
"This is your life now!" I gesture around the cabin. "This is where you've been living! Where the baby will be born! You can't just—you can't just leave!"
"Watch me." She heads toward the bedroom.
"Patrice, wait?—"
"I'm done talking." She doesn't look at me. "I need to pack."
"You're not seriously doing this."
"I texted Tessa while you were making breakfast. She's coming to pick me up."
The words land like a punch to the gut. "You—when?"
"In about ten minutes." She pulls a suitcase out of the closet. "She's going to take me to her place."
"So that's it? You're just leaving?"
"I'm going to stay with her and Gage for the night. And then tomorrow, I'm flying home."
"And the baby?"
She freezes, her back to me. "What about the baby?"
"What about—" I can't even find words. "You're going to have our baby in Florida? Without me?"
