Page 48 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

“I’ll drive,” he announces.

I ignore the flutter in my chest and go to the other side of the car, buckling up while refusing to stare at the enigma beside me.

I mutter, “You know you don’t have to––”

“So help me, Mads, if you finish your sentence with ‘come,’ I’m gonna spank your ass.”

He starts the ignition, and my mouth snaps shut, but my heart flutters again. I force myself to stare out the window when I desperately want to stare at him instead.

His new tattoos play peekaboo from his T-shirt sleeve. His big muscles are also playing peekaboo from his T-shirt sleeve. The same familiar dimples and chiseled jaw create quite the view, too, if I remember correctly.

Yeah. I could stare at him for hours.

But I can’t.

If I do, I’ll fall again.

And he’s made his stance clear. Penny, he’ll claim. But me? I screwed up any hopes we could’ve had at a happily ever after a long time ago.

And there’s no getting it back.

* * *

The driveto the vital records office is short, and the employee at the service window assures us the paperwork is pretty straightforward.

Clipboard in hand, Milo and I sit down on the dark blue plastic chairs lining the front area of the open room. The place kind of reminds me of the DMV. Hell, it even smells the same, except there’s a hint of baby formula wafting through the air from the WIC window a few feet away. I shake off the realization, grateful I don’t need to apply for another government program thanks to Milo’s help, and begin filling out the form while Milo rocks Penny’s car seat with his foot beside me. The lady’s right. Everything is pretty straightforward.

Until I come to the father’s name section.

Shit.

Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I skip it and move to the next section, praying Milo doesn’t notice as I cover the question with my left thumb. I don’t know what to write, and I can’t handle a fight today. Not when we’ve been getting along so well.

The black ballpoint pen scratches along the line of the next question as I hold my breath and fill out the form like a madwoman. Like my life depends on it. LikePenny’slife depends on it. Like, if I can finish this stupid paperwork, I can pretend everything’s okay, and we can both avoid the giant elephant in the room who refuses to disappear no matter how many times I’ve tried to make it go away.

I can feel Milo scanning the paper over my shoulder, but I don’t stop scribbling away until he grabs my left hand and moves it to the edge of the paper so he can read the entire form.

Which means I’m about to be caught.

“You left it blank,” he mutters, his gravelly voice only inches from my ear.

Not a question.

A statement.

“Yup.” I lick my dry lips, clicking the back of the pen a few times and attempting to focus on the next question despite feeling like I’m being analyzed beneath a damn microscope.

He grabs the pen from my fingers.

Tongue in cheek, I look over at him. “There a problem?”

“Why’d you leave it blank?”

“Because we’re not married.”

And because you might not be the father, despite the lie I’ve let you believe. I’m not about to tie you down even further. Nope. My conscience can only handle so much. Thanks, though.

I smile tightly and reach for the pen, but he pulls it away, keeping it out of my reach.

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