"He will. She will. I'm not going anywhere. We talked about this."
"No, we didn't. Not really. And maybe that's on me. Maybe I made you think I was okay with not getting married when the truth is, I was only okay with not getting married now."
"It's still now, Jen. Nothing's changed but biology."
She smiled at that. "I suppose that's true. But this particular bit of biology is the most important thing that's ever going to happen to either of us. And that changes things. Speeds them up, anyway."
She sat back down on the sofa, this time a few feet away so she was less tempted to touch him. Touching wouldn't weaken her resolve, but it would make the break that much more painful if he walked away.
"I said I was okay for then," she continued, keeping her hands in her lap though he reached for her. "But it's not okay forever, and I'm sorry if you got that impression. I believe in marriage. I want the commitment. More than that, I need it. And so does the baby."
"I love you, Jen. I'm as committed as I can get. I will always be there for you. For our child."
"You're committed," she repeated. "Just not committed enough to marry me."
"Don't play that game," he said, his voice as tight as a wire.
Tears clogged her throat, but she was determined not to shed them. "You're my best friend, and you always have been. And now you're my lover, and it's great. But I don't need a best friend. And I don't need a lover. I need a father for my baby."
He stood, propelled to his feet by an emotion so powerful it seemed to roll off him. "I am the baby's father."
"I need a husband."
"The hell you do--have you not met my father? Marriage doesn't solve anything. It's not a magic bullet that makes everything work."
"No, but it is a statement, and it's important. At least it is to me. I need the tradition and the ritual and all of it. I need us to be a family." She needed to know that he wasn't like her father, and that when the going got truly, seriously, horribly tough, she could count on him to step up. "And, I'm sorry, but if that's not something you need, then--"
"Don't you dare give me an ultimatum, Jen. Don't even think about threatening to take away my child."
This wasn't working. He wasn't getting it, and he sure as hell wasn't agreeing. But he was angry. So angry it seemed to fill the apartment, and she wished she could curl up and hide in the cushions.
"I'd never do that," she said, forcing her voice to be calm. "Not ever. But if you expect me to respect your inability to say those vows, then you have to respect my need for them."
"I'm not your dad, Jenna. I'm not going to say I love my kid only to disappear out of its life forever."
She blinked, and a tear ran down her cheek. He did know her well, and she could never think that of him. But that didn't change what she wanted. The promise. The commitment.
"You promised that you'd always be there for me," she told him.
"I am."
"No," she said. "You're not."
"Jenna--"
"No." She shook her head. "If you don't want to be my husband--if that's not the way you can see yourself--then I think I need to go. I'll always love you, Reece. But I can't be with you. Not like that. Not like this. And I'm afraid that if I stay, you'll wear me down." She wiped away tears. "Because I love you so damn much. But I'll hate myself if I give in. And what kind of a lesson would that be for the baby?"
"Please, Jenna. Don't."
But she had to.
Even though it broke her heart, she had to walk away.
For almost a week now, Reece had been living in a goddamn haze. Jenna had kicked the foundation out from under him, and his world had fallen apart. And, damn him, he still hadn't managed to figure out a way to put it back together again. Much less to get Jenna back.
God, he missed her.
Every night since she'd left, he'd gone to sleep on the couch, unwilling to go up to the bedroom and face the bed they'd shared.