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“Not long enough for a baby,” Harper answered, anticipating where Layla was going with her question.
“Now that you and Daddy have sleepovers all the time, do you think we can get one?”
Harper fell quiet and didn’t answer the question, but her lack of answer spoke volumes, and the thought of her ever becoming pregnant terrified me. When Layla got no reply I asked her if she enjoyed being on TV and my daughter quickly picked up on this topic of conversation.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Shit the condom’s split,” I gasped, cupping my hand underneath. It was only two days after the television interview and Layla’s question about a baby was fresh in my mind.
“Stop. Stop freaking out,” Harper ordered.
“I can’t feel anything. It must have happened after you took it out,” she commented, swiping her hand between her legs.
“You have to go to the pharmacy and get the morning after pill,” I demanded.
“No. Stop panicking about it. I’m not going to some drug store to get a pill. I disagree with abortion, but it won’t come to that. I’m sure I’m not pregnant.” This was the first time we’d had any real disagreement since we had been together.
For almost two weeks after this I counted down the days until Harper’s period came, worried she was pregnant. Relief washed through me when she wasn’t and I felt as if I could breathe deeply for the first time in weeks, but I didn’t miss the glimmer of disappointment in Harper’s eyes. It crushed my heart because I knew I was being selfish, I had a child already.
Layla was already as much Harper’s child as she was mine. I may have fathered Layla, but Harper was most definitely the mother figure to her. I even thought of suggesting adopting because Harper was such a natural mom, but I couldn’t bear the thought of her being pregnant, because the risk of losing her felt too great.
Gradually, we moved on from the scare and our relationship grew stronger than ever, but with Christmas coming, we faced the new challenge of Grace’s parents coming over. It was Matty’s question about who to expect for Christmas when I broached the subject of Harper not being particularly close to her own family.
From the conversations we’d had, I knew she was the middle child, and as such, didn’t feel she had much individual attention from her parents. She excused this as being circumstantial as her mom and dad had three children in quick succession, and then her mom went back to work.
Part of me wondered if Harper living with us, and the time demands of caring for Layla, had actually stilted her from developing her relationship with them, but she disagreed, stating when she was at college she had only seen them twice a year.
When I suggested Harper invite them for Christmas, she told me they already had arrangements with her younger sister to spend Christmas with her brother’s wife’s parents. She told me she had been invited to this as well, but she had declined.
“Will you take me to meet your parents?” Harper had never suggested we go. We had been collecting a gift for Layla’s pony for Christmas and I’d noticed it was only a couple of miles from her home address. I sensed reluctance to take me there, but I’d already decided this was as good a time as any.
“Not sure they’ll be home from work yet,” she replied, frowned and glanced at her wristwatch.
“Do you mind?” I asked, checking for an honest answer.
“Yeah, my mom will flip, she’s a bit of a fan,” she smirked, and I realized this was the issue.
“Yeah?”
“Mm-Hm,” she nodded.
“Dad, not so much. He thinks you must be wild as you’re a rock star, and he hates our living arrangements, because he thinks you’re using me.”
“Is this why you haven’t taken me to meet them before?” I sounded concerned, she’d kept this to herself.
“Perhaps.”
“All right then, let’s do it. If your dad’s got issues, let’s air them and put them the fuck to bed, because you and I know what’s going on is real. Next time we’ll bring Layla with us. I don’t know if you want to text or call them to warn that we’re swinging by.”
Harper dug out her phone and fired off some texts, one to each parent, I presumed, and we drove the ten-minute car journey from where we were at, to their place. We pulled into a single driveway off the main road that forked, with a couple of houses on separate parcels of land.
Pulling up in front of the garage, I slid out my side of the car and wandered around the hood to help her out. As I held the door open for her, I saw a tall balding guy come out from the house next door. I didn’t need Harper to tell me who it was; she’d described him to a tee.
Closing the door, I grabbed Harper by the wrist as she was about to walk past me and leaned her seductively against the car door.
Reducing the distance between us, I flattened her chest with mine. Sliding my hands into her hair at both sides of her head, I whispered, “I love you, Baby,” in a rare public display of affection.
Guiding my nose along her jawline and up her cheek, I playfully brushed our noses together and was rewarded when a gentle smile spread on her lips. Bringing her head closer toward me, I kissed her in my favorite way—at a slow, leisurely pace.
