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It’s late afternoon so the trip back to our place takes nearly an hour in traffic. And in that time my brain whirled between degrading insults about myself to planning my future child’s college tuition. It’s been a fucking rollercoaster in my head, but I know it’s ten times worse in hers.
When I pull into my tight one-car garage, I shut the car off and we sit motionless in the even-quieter silence.
“Angie, I’m sorry,” I blurt out, the sound of my voice like a jackhammer on a Sunday morning. “This is all my fault. I did lean in that night,” I admit, but continue to blabber uncontrollably. “But I swear to god I don’t remember anything after that. I can’t believe I could do something like this—both of us were so drunk. I’m a piece of shit and I understand if you hate me for it because I totally deserve it—”
“Raf,” she tries to interject.
“You must feel so violated, Angie. That’s the last thing I would ever want you to feel, and if you want to cut me out of your life because of it, I understand, but—”
“Hey, hey, hey,” she says, placing her hand on my arm. “I’m not mad.”
“You’re not?”
“No,” she whispers. “What happened was a mistake. But the more I think about it,” she says, placing her other hand on her belly. “I don’t think this was a mistake.”
That shoots my eyebrows up. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, this could have happened with anyone. And if that’s the case, there’s no one in my life I’d rather have a baby with than you,” she says softly, then adds, “Well, except for Cora. But she can’t get me pregnant; the science just isn't there yet.”
An unexpected laugh bursts out from my lips as my heart pounds so loudly in my chest that I’m positive she can hear it.
How can she make jokes at a time like this? I fucking love her for it.
“Does that mean you’ve made your decision? Because you can take more time if you need it—not that I’m pressuring you to go one way or the other.”
“You know,” she nods. “I thought I would need more time too, but, halfway through the drive I started telling myself I was going to have a baby, and I let that thought settle in. I don’t know, I guess that thought stretched out and got comfortable. But hey, where are you with this? I know you said this was my decision, but what are you feeling?”
“To say I’m shocked is an understatement. I’m scared.”
Angie grabs my hand. “Me too.”
“I have no idea how to raise a child,” I huff, and a small smile makes its way through. “But we’ve always made a good team, haven’t we?”
“You’re my first pick,” she smiles.
It’s my turn to squeeze her hand back. “Okay,” I say, my voice only a little shaky. “Let’s have a baby.”
Chapter 7
June 8th
Rafael
It took me four solid days to process the fact that I’m going to be a father. I went to work and rugby practice this week, but the whole time I was thinking about Angie and what she needed. Every spare moment was consumed with pregnancy education and crippling fear of telling my parents the news.
During our work days, we’d send each other articles and apps that we found informative or helpful. In the evenings when we got home, we’d eat together and talk endlessly about what we learned each day and what she’s experiencing.
Like her gums bleeding. She said it only happens when she brushes her teeth, but it’s freaky. She’s also experiencing a constant need to pee, which we both find strange since the baby is the size of a peach right now. Thankfully her morning sickness isn’t too bad. She said she only feels mildly nauseous for most of the day, but nothing that requires upheaval.
I still feel awful though. It may have taken me four days to come to terms with being a father, but I still can’t believe I did this to her.
There is a very selfish part of me though—fuck, it’s even hard to give this brain space—that feels cheated from not remembering the act. Because having sex with your very attractive best friend—a woman so wildly confident and beautiful—is something I would have liked to remember.
It’s almost not fair that I can let all those nights of meaningless sex with people I didn’t truly care about live in my head for the rest of my life, but I’m not allowed to remember the way it felt to be inside her. Or the way she sounds in the heat of the moment. Or the way her soft body would feel against mine.
I’ve been robbed.
“Start bootin’ up, boys,” Coach Batsakis hollers. “Warm up in five.”
