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“I’m way too young,” she says, studying my face.
“That’s okay,” I tell her, sitting next to her. “I want this baby. I want us to be a family.”
“It won’t be easy,” she insists, her brow furrowing.
I smile and shake my head. “No, it won’t be, but we’ll do it together.”
“What about my job?” she protests, running her hand through her hair.
“You are not going back to your job anyway. You’re starting a business, remember? The funding you need to build your own record label is there. You can start now or after you’ve had the baby. It’s up to you.”
This actually brings a smile to her face. Katarina laces her hand through mine and rests her head against my shoulder.
“You sound like you’re ready to be a father, big guy.” She sighs, her voice turning warmer and calmer.
I think it over and find that I’m already dreaming of holding our baby, of cuddling and reading stories to them, watching them grow . . .
“Yes,” I say. “I know it’s early for you. But do you see yourself being a mother?”
Katarina lifts her head and stares at me, her green eyes deep and profound. “This wasn’t how I imagined my life would unfold. I’m still at the drinking and partying stage.”
“Good things can come at odd times,” I point out.
“Maybe that’s true,” she agrees with a smirk. “Though you have to admit this is easier on you than it is on me. You’re thirty-two, and I just turned twenty-one a few months ago.”
“I know, serdtse,” I whisper. “I’m sorry we weren’t smart about it. I wish I could give you a couple more years before putting you in this position. But we’re here now. It’s your body, making this your call. But I just want you to know that whatever you decide, I’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll be a good father and a good husband to you. And if you want to end the pregnancy, I’ll also support you. I’ll hold your hand through the procedure and be by your side while you heal. In a few years, when you’re ready, we’ll do it again.”
Katarina jumps to her feet and scurries to the bathroom.
The sound of vomiting comes through the door.
After she washes her hands and comes out, she shakes her head and stares at me, disbelieving.
“Looks like we’re having a baby,” she announces.
“Oh yeah?”
A small smile forms on her lips, but she doesn’t reply. Instead, she does the only thing that’s going to make this situation easier—she walks up to me and climbs into my lap. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close.
“I promise I won’t let you down, serdtse,” I whisper into her ear, meaning every word. “I’ll love you and our baby with my entire being.”
“Then that’s all I need to know,” she murmurs.
As she sits with me, her legs wrapped around my waist, her chest pressed against mine, I feel a connection grow between us. It’s no longer this weak, ethereal tie that comes with basic physical attraction and proximity. We created a human life. Someone we have to look after and protect, nurture and love.
Katarina and I are bound for life now. We’re connected in a way I never thought possible. Or at least not for several years to come.
It should frighten me, but the sense of bonding somehow fills the emptiness that was created when I lost the people who meant the world to me. Though I’ll always have a hole in my heart because of it, having Katarina by my side dulls the sharp edges that were taking over my life.
I never dreamed of finding love again. It was far too painful a feeling to have gone through it. But as I nuzzle her hair and inhale the floral scent of her shampoo, I know that I can no longer run away from the love my body craves. Even if I tried, I’d fail miserably because this woman has captured me in ways that no one will ever understand. As long as we’re together, everything will be alright.
A long silence ensues as we sit together. It isn’t awkward and doesn’t seem to last forever.
“What now?” she asks, breaking the reverie.
“I’ll make some calls to get you the best obstetrician in New York City,” I tell her. “Then we’ll talk about the wedding and how you want to have it. We should also look into real estate. While I like this brownstone, you should have a chance to pick and decorate your dream home. Maybe you’d prefer to live in Tribeca or the Upper East Side? Or maybe Westchester? “
She gives me an amused smile. “Let me think about it.”
