Page 28 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“Tell me.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I guess it’s one more thing I can’t follow through on, okay?”

With a low sigh, he looks down at Peanut curled up on his chest, her pouty lips parted as she breathes deep. “Want me to make a suggestion?”

“I…” I blink slowly. “Y-you wanna help name her?”

“Since you won’t do it––”

“Tell me your suggestion,” I interrupt, annoyed but kind of relieved too. Naming Peanut has been stressing me out, and I’ve been avoiding it like the plague. There’s so much pressure to choose the right name––one she won’t hate when she grows up––and it’s been killing me. The idea of someone else helping me with it is too enticing to ignore.

“What about Penny?” he suggests.

My brows pinch. “Penny?”

“Yeah. Penny. Like a lucky penny. One that just kinda…showed up.” He looks up at me again and smirks, showcasing the damn dimples which managed to own me from the first moment we met. “You can still call her Peanut. And it’ll fit even more if she keeps this coppery hair.” He gently brushes his giant palm across the crown of her head.

“Penny, huh?” With a soft smile, I let the name roll off my tongue. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He looks back down at the baby in his arms. “Nice to meet you, Penny Anders.”

Anders. As in…Milo Anders.

His last name. And he’s giving it freely.

Again, the stupid knife lodged in my chest since the moment I saw those two little pink lines on my pregnancy test digs a little deeper. Making me feel even guiltier, more insecure, and so damn unsure of everything happening in my life I could puke.

He deserves to know whether or not she’s his before he gives her his last name. But I can’t tell him. I don’t knowhow. Besides, he loves her. I can already see it. Wouldn’t the truth hurt him even more?

We could do this. Raise her together. For real.

Couldn’t we?

“Okay?” he asks, looking up at me with those same gorgeous, haunting eyes which haven’t stopped torturing me for months.

I force myself to nod. “Yeah, Milo. I think it sounds great. But are you sure? You don’t have to––”

“She’s my kid, Mads.”

He makes it sound simple. And even though I’d give anything for it to be so easy, the truth is… It isn’t.

“What about her birth certificate?” he asks. “I was reading online, and it said the sooner we get her official name on it, the better it is. Especially for insurance and shit.”

“You Googled it?”

“Someone had to. Not like we’re good at actually communicating.”

I grimace and sit down on the edge of the bed. The back of my butt touches the side of his thigh, but he doesn’t move away. Still, I can feel his heat through the soft navy comforter as I run my hands over the fabric beside me.

“Good point,” I concede, peeking over at him. “Something we should probably work on, huh?”

“Might be a good idea if we’re gonna raise a kid together.”

I swallow thickly and tuck my hair behind my ear. “You know you don’t have to––”

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