Page 13 of Don't Get Me Wrong

The wet eyes get wetter.

“Seriously,” I say. “I don’t know anything more about what is going on than you do but crying won’t help.”

Her whole chin starts to vibrate lightly, and I know we’re knee-deep in it now. I see a sucky thing clipped to the seat, so I try to stick it in her mouth, but she turns her face from me. Shit. Little hiccups follow while I try to figure out how the fuck to unbuckle the contraption she’s in.

I finally get her out of the seat, but I don’t actually know what to do with her next. I hold her awkwardly. She’s so tiny. I know enough that her head needs to be supported, but that’s it. And that’s not enough because the hiccups turn to whimpers. Oh, man. I can’t stand it. She’s so helpless and sad and I don’t know what to do, so I bring her up to my chest and start talking. About I don’t even know what. Just nonsense. The whimpers become hiccups again, so it must be working.

I snuggle her onto my chest and stand up, trying to sort of rock her. “There, there, little one.” The hiccups become snuffles, and her little fist flattens on my chest. I don’t know what to do next, so I just keep walking and talking.

And fall in love for the second time in twelve hours.

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Katie

IDREAM OF BABIES.Awake to the sound of one crying. I open my eyes. It’s probably because I’m worried that I may have gone and gotten myself pregnant by the first guy I slept with. What was I thinking, begging him not to pull out? I feel so irresponsible. So naughty. So dirty. So horny again already.

I stretch. The dream that woke me was pretty vivid.

Nick isn’t in bed, so I take a minute to process the fact that I am not a virgin anymore. That I slept with a stranger. That no one would believe me if I told them who it was because everyone knows that Professor McFuckme would never, ever do a student. And it’s not like there’s been a line of guys offering for me, either.

I don’t think last night was just run-of-the-mill sex. I mean, I believe he’s probably always been a good, thorough lover. He just has that vibe that says he knows his way around a woman, which is why women all over campus crush on him. But what we did together didn’t feel like mere sex. It felt like I gave him way more than my virginity. I gave him pieces of me I doubt I’ll get back. Heart pieces. Soul pieces.

I’m really quite fucked.

I hear the baby sound again and know I’m not asleep this time, so I throw on a t-shirt, realize it’s not mine, and shrug. It smells like him. Maybe I’ll accidentally pack it when I leave today.

I get to the bedroom door and stop in my tracks at the scene in the living room. Visions of that movie where Drew Barrymore has amnesia and relives the same day over and over while her life goes on play across my mind. Surely, I didn’t hit my head and have a baby without remembering, did I?

The hottest man alive is pacing the room with a baby cuddled to his chest and my ovaries just explode like fireworks. But if it’s not my baby, whose baby is it and why is he holding it? Do I get to be jealous? No. That doesn’t seem to stop the feeling though.

“Good morning?” I say, my untried voice sounding a little husky.

He turns and smiles at me. Shit. I just released more eggs. I’m a walking fertility clinic now. He’s got the best smile. And I’ve never seen it before this morning. How can I feel so close to someone I hardly know?

“Hey,” he says, bouncing the baby a bit. “So a funny thing happened while you were sleeping.”

Do all men look so hot holding babies? “I can see that. How long was I out?”

His chuckle is warm, and his smile crinkles the skin at his eyes. It’s too much hotness for one man. It’s not fair to all the others. He transfers the baby to his other shoulder. “Do you know anything about these things?”

“You mean babies?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I know where they come from.”

His eyes darken dangerously, and I think we both relive the wonderful mess we made last night. “Well, I’m not sure where this one came from. I found her on the front porch.”

“What?” I rush over to check that she’s okay. “Who would leave a baby on the front porch?” And then I start putting things together. An ex-girlfriend would. A desperate ex. Maybe someone who got ditched by the guy who knocked her up. The guy who might have even said he didn’t want to pull out...my hand covers my own abdomen and I feel sick. What have I done? Is this my future, too?

“Katie, this baby is not mine. I swear.” His voice is low, urgent.

I look up into his sincere eyes. I want to believe him. “It’s not my place to—”

“Katie,” he interrupts. “Itisyour place to question. And I’m telling you, this baby is not mine. It’s been a lot longer than this since I’ve been with a woman, and last night was the first time in mylifeI didn’t use a condom. I swear.”

I nod. I want to believe him. I do believe him. Maybe that makes me stupid. Maybe that makes me the next candidate for porch babies. But my heart thinks it knows best, and it thinks it knows this man. Also, my brain is trying to do the math. “This baby is probably, what, a month old? That means you haven’t been with anyone in...”

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