Making His Baby(41)

“Maybe just a little,” I joke.

“So, what do you have in store for tonight? And do you think it can top last time?”

“Do you think that’s possible?” I ask with a smirk. I know I had a great time, and I’m certain that she did, too.

“Good point. How about we aim for something close to that? Topping it might be an impossibility.”

“I mean, I’m willing to try. But I’m also a realist.”

She smiles warmly at me, only confirming what I know to be true. She is falling for me as hard as I am for her. “Say, Blake, I’m surprised that you are here already. I thought I’d beat you easily. What? Were you already in the area?”

“Not exactly,” I say, looking away from her for the first time since she entered the café.

My reason for being here is linked to my reason for having a hotel room booked. I had hoped that she might not ask. I don’t know how she will take it.

“Okay, so are you going to tell me or do I need to guess? I’m open to either.”

“Fine,” I relent. “I rented a hotel room close by. There.”

“What? Why?”

“Because,” I say before pausing. I shake my head, suddenly feeling foolish. “You have to promise not to laugh, but it’s because my house is a little too far away from yours, and I want to be closer to you, in case anything happens with the pregnancy. I don’t like the idea of having to drive for thirty minutes to be with you.”

I am not usually like this. I’m embarrassed by the sentiment, and it is silly of me. And for a moment, I worry that she is going to think the same thing. But, to my surprise, she reaches across the table and takes my hand. And only when I look at her does she kiss the back of it.

“Thank you,” she says and she looks a bit like she has tears in her eyes. And she kisses the back of my hand again.





Chapter 32


CARRIE





The two of us are having a simple dinner. It’s at an old restaurant, not too far from where Blake and I met at his high-school reunion  . The restaurant looks like the kind of place that has been around for longer than the two of us have been alive. They mostly serve burgers and ribs, and the only drink options are beer and water.

“My friends and I used to come here every Friday night,” Blake explains as he leads me to our table. The tables are all old plastic sets which, again, look older than either both our ages put together. “It wasn’t quite as run down then.”

“No, it’s quaint,” I say optimistically, wondering why in the hell he has brought me here. I’m not a snob, but it is an odd choice of location.

“I was thinking. You’ve really only seen me from one side. The rich, arrogant side. I wanted to show you where I came from. If you’re going to be having my child, I figure you deserve that.”

Now I understand. It’s not the restaurant that he wants to show me, but himself. I always forget that, like me, he had a difficult upbringing and is actually a down-to-earth kind of guy. This is further proven when the waiter comes out and recognizes Blake. They talk like old friends, and the waiter snatches the menu away, stating that he is going to have the kitchen make us something special.

It’s a side of Blake that I have never seen, and one that I like just as much as the other. Maybe tonight will be even better than the previous date?



***



“And where is this?” I ask as Blake leads me across the empty parking lot. “Your old make-out spot?”

We’re only a few minutes’ drive from the restaurant, along the coast. I guess it’s the parking lot to a beach, one long abandoned.

“It’s where my friends and I used to hang out on weekends, before the place became rundown and forgotten.”

He still has a hold of my hand, and as we crest the parking lot, the smell of salt water wafts through my nostrils. The sound of waves lapping at the shore also appears as if from nowhere. As I look down, I spot the coastline.

“So, I was right,” I chime in. “It is your old make-out spot.”

“Only sometimes, I had a lot of spots to choose from,” he jokes. “Now come on.”

He lets go of my hand and sprints down the old wooden steps and onto the beach. I laugh at how enthusiastic he is, and I follow.

The sand is coarse on my feet, but I love the feeling. I follow him along the beach to the water’s edge, where he has stopped. He stares out across the water, and the moonlight bathes itself over him. He turns and waves me over.

“I can’t believe how long it has been since I was here last,” he says as I walk to his side. I reach him and take his hand in mine. “It’s got to have been more than fifteen years now.”