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“That you wanted to marry me at one point.”
I down the rest of the scotch and remind myself I drove so I need to cut myself off right now.
“I never wanted to marry you, Venus, you know that.”
“Ouch.” She smiles and shrugs one bare shoulder. “You really know how to make a woman feel all warm and nostalgic on a trip down memory lane.”
“You were the one who wanted to get married and you blamed me for the relationship falling apart because of it when I was honest and open with you from day one about my lack of desire for marriage and a family.” I can feel myself growing frustrated by the direction this conversation has turned.
“Do you love her?”
“Why did you call me here, Venus?” I ignore her question, a tension headache forming at the edges of my temples. I really don’t know why I agreed to meet with her tonight in the first place. Maybe to get her to stop texting and calling me. Maybe because some part of me was mildly curious about what reason she could possibly come up with now to try and convince me to give us another chance.
“Was it just to do this again? Hmm?” I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Another postmortem about our relationship?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Not at all the answer I was expecting but I feel relief instantly wash over me. I didn’t want to have to remind her of all the reasons we weren’t good together. It’s never easy and it certainly makes me feel like shit to make a woman cry.
“Congrats!” I raise my water glass toward her, but that’s when I notice what looks like tears at the edges of her eyes. She doesn’t seem happy like I thought she would.
“Thank you.” She sniffs, then dabs her napkin at the corner of each eye. “Congrats to you too.”
I tilt my head in confusion, the expression on her face mirroring my own.
“It’s yours,” she says as if I should have deduced that on my own. Her hands fall to rest on a small, swollen belly that I’m just now noticing.
“M—Mine? No. How?” She lets out a slight laugh in the form of a huff. “I know how babies are made, Venus; you know what I’m asking. You had an IUD and I always pu—” I glance around, then lower my voice. “I always pulled out.”
She shrugs. “I guess one got through somehow. That’s all it takes, Becks.”
“Don’t call me that; you know I don’t like it.” It’s petty but she does know I can’t stand the little nickname she gave me. I’ve asked her time and time again not to call me that. “How far along are you?”
“Just shy of four months.”
“We ended things just over three months ago.”
“Yes, I was a few weeks pregnant then. I just didn’t know it.”
“I get how it works,” I say, holding up my hand in frustration. “I’m just talking through things.” I lean back in my chair, running my hand over my jaw. My stomach feels like there’s soup sloshing around in it.
“Apologies for the wait, did you ha?—”
“We’re not staying,” I say to the waiter. “You can bring me the check.”
“Uh, okay. Will do.” The young man spins on his heel and walks away.
“Really? Can’t even feed your baby?” She pouts, rubbing her belly.
“Don’t do that.” I narrow my gaze at her. Venus was always good at manipulation, even if it was small or deserved on my part. She has a knack for tossing guilt around like it’s dollar bills. “You have to give me a minute to process this, Venus. It’s not just an accident; it’s life-changing and fifteen minutes ago I thought my life was going in a completely different direction.”
“Well, you better figure it out, Beckham, because this baby is in our lives.”
“I’m aware of that but you just waltz in here and tell me you’re pregnant and it’s mine, and I’m just supposed to believe it and say what? Let’s be a family?”
“You think I’m lying? That I would fake a pregnancy?” She’s angry now.
“I didn’t say that. Clearly, you’re pregnant.”
