by B. B. Hamel
“What can you do?”
“I’ll raise my baby,” he says, his voice low, his deep green eyes locked on mine. “I’ll take care of it.”
I hesitate. I never imagined for a second that he’d want to be a part of this baby’s life. It seems crazy that he’s saying this, and I can’t imagine that he has any clue what he’s getting himself into.
But the way he’s looking at me… I think he’s serious. In fact, I know he is. I believe him completely when he says he’ll take this baby.
It scares the hell out of me.
“It’s my baby,” he says again. I slip away, moving past him and toward the door.
“No, it isn’t.” I turn and cross my arms. “But if you want the baby, I can’t stop you.”
He cocks his head and watches me. I feel naked under his gaze for some reason, and I have to look away.
We stand in silence for a second like that. I can’t stop picturing his hands on my skin, and I hate him so much, but I want him so badly. It’s so confusing, and the way he’s looking at me isn’t helping at all.
Finally, he shakes his head and follows me to my front door. “I’ll see you at work,” he says as he leaves.
I slam the door behind him. “Jerk,” I mumble as I lock my bolt and throw myself back onto the couch.
If he wants to raise this baby, what’s it matter? It’s strange, but some part of me keeps picturing what it would be like to raise the baby with him, with a white picket fence and all that crap, the sort of stuff I never thought would be mine. I always pictured myself as an engineer, building things and living the single life. That was enough for me, at least until now.
It’s scary how fast things can change. All it took was one night with Aaron, and now I don’t know if I hate him, or if I want to be his wife.
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