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“Number two,” Callen adds with a fucking smirk. “I want to go to every doctor’s appointment. You tell me everything.”
“Pertaining to the baby,” I clarify. “And I agree to the doctor’s appointments. Kenzie is my doctor.”
“Number three,” I point at him, feeling my fight drain from my body as I get sleepy. “Keep your declarations of love to yourself. There is no us. You broke that, not me. And right now, I’m focused on our pomegranate, not on fixing what you broke.”
“Pomegranate?”
I lean into the corner of the chair and pull my feet up under the blanket my mother is never getting back. “There’s a website that tells you all about the baby’s development, and it tells you what size it is each week. We’re seventeen weeks pregnant, and our baby is the size of a pomegranate.”
His brows lift. “The hard-shell thing or one of the seeds from inside?”
“Of course you know what a pomegranate is. Ugly, stupid fruit,” I mutter. “The hard-shell thing. And our next appointment is the week before Christmas. We can find out the sex of the baby then, if you want.”
Even I’m not so coldhearted that I’d keep him out of our baby’s life.
Callen drops to his knees in front of me and very slowly reaches out, probably waiting for me to smack his hand away. I don’t. I give him this one thing because I owe it to our little red fruit and take his hand and rest it on my still-flat stomach.
“Our baby... Christ, Caitie. We’re going to have a baby.”
The tears are back, and this time, they don’t stop.
No matter how hard I try.
“Test run, Callen. I make no promises on how long I stay.”
I can’t give him more than that.
My heart can’t take another break.
It wouldn’t ever recover.
Not again.
Part III
CALLEN
Nattie
Is today the day?
Murphy
That Brady realizes you’re fucking nuts?
Carys
Be nice, Murph.
Murphy
Listen, I’m still cleaning green glitter out of my car from Thanksgiving.
Nattie
You deserved that.
Declan
