“I don’t know.” Her tone was cold.
“What do you want me to do? Tell me and I’ll do it.”
Silence.
“Nothing, Miles. I don’t want you to do anything. The whole thing was a mistake. We were a mistake.”
“But—”
“Look, neither of us planned this, Miles. This is the worst possible timing for a pregnancy and the worst possible combination of factors. We’re young. We’re not married—we’re not even a couple—you don’t want kids, you’re moving across the country, I own a business, and I will have to answer everyone’s questions for the next nine months if I go through with this pregnancy, not to mention the next eighteen years.”
Oh my God. Nine months. Eighteen years.
The world was spinning too fast. Days and nights were flying by. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. “Jesus. I can’t handle this.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means, I know exactly how you’re feeling right now. You’re hoping I’ll just get rid of it so it won’t be your problem and you can go on with your life.”
I jumped off the couch, enraged. “Natalie, I never said that!”
“You didn’t have to!” she yelled. “I know how you feel about kids, Miles. They get in the way of everything. They’re expensive and they disrupt your sleep and your drinking habits and your sex life!”
Fuck, I had said that, hadn’t I? Fuck! “Well, how was I supposed to know this would happen?”
“You weren’t. Forget it, it doesn’t matter anyway.”
Oh God, now she hated me. “Natalie, wait. I’m sorry—”
“I’m sorry too, Miles. I’ll let you know what I decide, but don’t worry. I won’t ask you for anything. You can go ahead and move to California.”
“Don’t say that. Please.” I love you. I’m just terrified right now. Give me time to think.
“Goodbye.” She ended the call and I stood there, frozen, the phone still at my ear. I was sweating buckets, but started to shiver.
“Fuck!” I threw my phone on the couch and fisted my hands in my hair.
Natalie was pregnant. Pregnant! With a baby! An actual baby!
I fell back onto the couch and lay there with my hands over my face.
“Fuuuuuuuuck,” I groaned. This was so far beyond my adult zone I couldn’t even form a sentence. A relationship was one thing, but a child… I was the least qualified person I knew to be a dad. My own hadn’t been around that much. I had no uncles I was close to. The truth was Mr. Nixon was probably the best example of a good father I’d seen in my life. And he’d always been so nice to me—what would he say when he learned I’d gotten his daughter pregnant?
Oh God, I was such an asshole.
And she knew it. She’d thrown all my stupid remarks about being a husband and father right back in my face. But a guy could change his mind, couldn’t he? If he met someone who made him feel something he’d never felt before, if he learned something about himself—like that he was capable of falling in love—he should be allowed to take back what he said. Suddenly I was angry. She wasn’t even giving me a chance to do the right thing. She was just assuming I was the same old Miles I’d always been.
Because she doesn’t know you love her. You never told her.
Chills swept over my entire body, and I felt as if everything I’d ever wanted was right in front of me, and I had to grab it now or risk losing it forever. Was I scared? Fuck, yes. But what if this was my chance? If I blew this, Natalie would never forgive me, and some other guy would come along and fall in love with her and do things right. She’d always be the one that got away. But what if this baby happened for a reason? What if this was the universe banging me over the head with the best thing that had ever happened to me?
This wasn’t a mistake.
I grabbed the phone off the couch and called her back, but she didn’t answer. Her voicemail picked up as I was running up the stairs to pack a bag. “Hey,” I said. “I need to see you. I’m driving up.”
A bit short and not exactly heartwarming, but fuck it, I was flustered.
Five minutes later, I raced back down the stairs and grabbed my phone charger, computer bag, and the keys to the house up there. Frantically, I looked around, feeling like I needed more things, a better plan, a fucking clue what I was doing. But I couldn’t think of anything.
I locked my apartment and flew down the hall, tapped my foot impatiently in the elevator, and ran like mad through the parking garage. Thankful I had a full tank of gas, I was on the road within minutes, and figured if I didn’t hit terrible traffic, I could be there by nine o’clock tonight.