“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” I tell her. “It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. I know the baby is mine. I never thought for a second it wasn’t. You’re pregnant with my baby.”
This time there’s a spark of love in my gut—love for a baby that isn’t even here, and I already know I’ll love him or her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.
“Why do you look happy?” she asks, dropping the bags back on the couch.
“Because I am.” I take a step forward, and she steps back, and that’s when I see the uncertainty in her eyes. “The timing isn’t perfect, but a baby is a miracle. This is a baby. Our baby. Aren’t you happy?”
Her eyes dance between mine. “No, I’m not happy,” she cries. “I had dreams, Lincoln. Dreams of starting my career, finding a strong, solid man and getting married, and somewhere down the road starting a family. Instead I’m going to be a single mother because I got knocked up by a man who two days ago said the last thing this world needs is his spawn running around. And to top it all off, I know nothing about being a mother, Lincoln. What if I suck at it?”
Her words slice through me. We should be happy and celebrating. I understand that the timing isn’t ideal, but this is a baby.
“Stop.” Shaking my head, I close the distance between us, not giving her the chance to step away. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother, and you’re never going to be alone again. Do you hear me? We’re going to raise this baby together. We’re going to get married, and I’m going to buy you a beautiful home, and—”
“Don’t.” She pushes away from me, her eyes searching mine. “We’re not getting married. I don’t want you to want to marry me because I’m pregnant with your baby.”
“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I hurt you. And I know you’re having a hard time believing me right now, but you have to trust me when I say this: I want to marry you because of you, Adley. Because I’m in love with you. Baby or no baby, you’re it for me. I love you.”
“I want to believe you.” Her eyes focus on something over my shoulder. “I’ve tried. I swear I’ve tried. I sat here and tried to convince myself that we could move past this, that I’m overreacting. And who knows? Maybe I am. But I keep hearing your words, and I keep thinking about this baby. We’re having a baby, Lincoln. A child is going to depend on us for everything. Right now, I have to focus on that.”
“I don’t want to lose you,” I say.
Tears drip down her face, and I know she doesn’t want me to hug her, but I can’t just stand here. She’s breaking. Arguing with her right now is pointless. She’s raw—we’re both raw—and the last thing I want to do is upset her and cause harm to her or the baby.
“Please, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry I hurt you, Adley, and I promise I’m going to make this right. But I need you to calm down. You’re pregnant now, and I don’t want you or the baby upset.”
She shakes her head, faster and faster with each word.
“Yes. Godammit, yes.” I grip her face in my hands and slam my mouth against hers, determined to kiss away her pain, to show her how much I love her.
If she won’t believe my words, she’ll have no choice but to listen to my body, because my body doesn’t lie when she’s around.
At first, she’s tense, her body tight with anger. Slamming her fist against my chest, she fights to get away, but I hold on, refusing to let go, and as the seconds pass, she slowly melts against me. Her lips go pliant, accepting everything I give, and when I press my tongue to her mouth, she opens for me.
Our kiss is hurried and desperate. I try to slow it down, infuse it with all the tenderness and love rushing through me, but she doesn’t let me. For her this kiss is goodbye. I can feel it. It’s in the desperate way she clings to my shirt, the frantic movement of her mouth, and when
she tries to pull away, I don’t let her, because I know what comes next, and I’m not ready for it.
“Lincoln.” She pushes my chest, forcing me to take a step back. Her fingers rest on her swollen lips. “I can’t do this with you. Not right now.”
“I made a mistake, Adley. How long are you going to hang this over my head?” My voice rises an octave because I’m frustrated. This is ridiculous. “I’m here now, apologizing, begging you to forgive me, and telling you how much I love you and how much you mean to me. If you push me away, it’s out of pure stubbornness.”
“Maybe, but I need to be sure…”
“Adley—”
She grabs her bags, hooking them over her shoulders, and walks to the door. “I need more than words right now, Lincoln.”
“What do you need? Tell me what to do.”
“I shouldn’t have to tell you. You figure it out.” She walks across the room and yanks open my front door. “You say you love me and you want this baby and marriage and a family—”
“I do.”
“Prove it.”
29
Lincoln