Knocked Up(37)

Her studio was clean enough, but she fluffed the cushions on the used sofa and remade the bed just to be safe, careful to check and double-check for anything that might be embarrassing. As it was, though, there wasn’t too much to hide.

After moving over and over again, she’d never been much for bogging herself down with unnecessary possessions. She had one picture frame—the gift from Suzette of the two of them at graduation she kept on her bed stand, but other than that and the baby’s sonogram picture on the fridge? The place was a utilitarian haven. Nothing but form and function.

The doorbell rang even sooner than she’d been expecting, and she hadn’t even had the chance to peer inside her fridge and see what she had to offer him—other than the pounds of strawberries she’d been shoveling into her face—before she was rushing to answer his knock.

She swung the door open and ran her fingertips through her hair as he smiled down at her, his blue eyes piercing her in a way that she was quickly realizing was his signature look.

“Hey,” she said. “That was quick.”

"I was actually just around the corner when you called, picking up stuff at the hardware store."

"I was sure you'd still be in bed nursing that hangover."

He speared a hand through his hair and one dimple made a short appearance. "Yeah, I would have been if it wasn't for you."

Damn his blue eyes. They were staring at her again, studying her, and her heart was beating faster and louder,--in her chest, in her wrists, in her ears.

"Uh, why don't you come in? We can order a pizza. Good hangover food."

"Already ordered one. I didn't want you cooking for my sake."

"Oh, that was...that's really nice of you,” she said, once again taken aback at his thoughtfulness. He was really ruining the whole playboy image she’d had of him and she had to admit, she didn’t hate the thought that maybe the rumors had been exaggerated. Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he could be a great dad for their son.

"I hope I didn't ruin any plans you had,” he added.

She shook her head and stepped aside as he stepped into the tiny loft.

If he thought poorly of the place, he didn't let on. Instead, he glanced at the kitchenette and then the bed, covered in tapestries and colorful fabrics she'd gotten abroad, and offered her a little smile.

"Nice."

She motioned to the sofa and took a seat in the less comfortable armchair that, of late, was the only thing that could support her recently aching lower back.

Luke watched her ease onto the seat with some concern, but she waved him off.

"I'm fine, fine. Pregnancy stuff. It's very glamorous."

"I'll bet. You barely look pregnant yet, so it’s still hard to imagine.”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s weird because I feel so different even though I don’t look that different yet. Anyway, I called because I made a little list."

“Hit me,” he said, his face open and interested.

"Well, if you’re still wanting to be a part of the baby’s life, we should talk about co-parenting. Preschools, religion, discipline, that kind of stuff."

Luke blinked. “Wow. That’s a lot of stuff.”

If he only knew.

She picked up the stack of papers from the coffee table between them, then nodded at an identical copy in front of him. "I printed two copies. For your reference."

"So this is...what? A board meeting?" He glanced at his packet, but didn't pick it up.

"Don't joke,” she pleaded, “I know it seems fussy but my brain feels so cluttered and confused, it felt better to get it all on paper.”

"I'm not joking at all. I just wish I'd known to bring a suit and tie, that's all." He flashed a grin, and she glanced down at the first item on the list, determined not to let the heat spreading over her face distract her from the pressing matters in front of them.

"So, first of all, we'll need to make a shopping list for the nursery."

"A shopping list? Don’t you think we should wait until after the baby shower?” His dark brows knit together.

"Well, I don’t really plan to…it’s not important." She didn't want to explain all that to him. Her only real friend here was Suzette, and one friend did not a party make. As for family, her mother would never, not in a million years, fly from Hawaii to Louisiana to throw a baby shower for her daughter's illegitimate child. And if she did? The baby would probably get MREs instead of formula. She just wasn’t maternal and never had been. Tawny was pretty sure nothing had changed in the past few years on that front. She only had to look at her recent birthday card that was signed “Warm regards” to confirm that.