Forever with You

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“Based on the one test and timing, I’m at about five weeks.” I opened my eyes and drew in a shallow breath.

  Some of the color had returned to her face. “Okay.” Her tone told me she was moving into Mom-­can-­take-­care-­of-­this mode. “About this guy. Does he know?”

  I shook my head. “I just found out this past Sunday and I needed to wrap my head around it first.”

  “Understandable.” Her hand returned to smoothing the dog’s back. “Do you plan on telling him?”

  My mouth opened, but I didn’t have an answer.

  She pressed her lips together and then nodded slowly. “If you choose to not go through with this, that is ultimately your choice. No one else’s. I believe that, but I also believe you need to tell the father. Sorry, hon. That’s just the way I feel.”

  The father . . .

  God, hearing words like that was like getting shocked by a live wire.

  But I knew in my heart of hearts that I personally wouldn’t feel okay with not telling Nick. Not giving him the chance to at least know what was going on, to weigh in with his opinion. In the end, what he felt might or might not sway my decision. I didn’t know, but I didn’t believe that everyone else needed to feel the same way I did. To each their own. It was not my business or my place to say, except when it came to me.

  And I knew I had to tell him.

  “We need more cake for this conversation.” Mom woke the sleeping dog and placed it on the floor, where Loki scampered off to the water bowl. She went to the counter and returned with two huge slices, one for me and one for her.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, my throat scratchy.

  “Honey.” She reached over, cupping my cheek. “This isn’t the end of the world. Yes, this is a big deal. It’s a huge one—­one that no matter what you decide is going to stay with you for a very, very long time.”

  A knot formed in my throat, cutting off my words.

  “No matter what you choose, no matter what option you’re going to go with, I will love and support you either way,” she stated, and the tears filled my eyes then. “You decide you’re not ready for this, I’ll be right there with you if you want me to be. And if you decide you want to go through with this and have that baby, I’m going to be a proud grandmother—­a damn good-­looking grandmother, too.”

  I laughed shakily as a tear snuck free and coursed down my cheek.

  Mom caught that tear with her thumb. “No matter what, I love you and I will always be proud of you.”

  Chapter 13

  I made it back to Plymouth Meeting by noon on Sunday, and while I was still freaking out every ­couple of minutes, I had a better grasp on things. Going home to my mother was the smartest thing I could’ve done.

  Hearing her and being around her, spending Saturday curled up on the couch watching movies and pigging out, had helped ground me. We had talked about it, that evening over sundaes, going over the . . . the choices I had and their ramifications. There was no doubt in my mind that she had meant what she said. No matter what I decided or what happened, she would support me.

  Though when I left a few hours ago, I could tell she had visions of onesies dancing in her head as she stood at the door, holding Loki in her arms.

  My apartment was chilly when I stepped inside. Taking my bag to my bed, I dropped it off and then turned around, heading for the thermostat in the hallway. I cranked it up and then ate the cold-­cut sub I’d picked up on the way back.

  When it was close to one, I picked up my phone and brought it to the couch with me. I figured Nick had worked last night and I hoped that I wasn’t about to wake him up with my text. Of course, I could call him, but that would seem odd since neither of us had ever called one another before, and I could imagine him pushing until I told him what was up over the phone.

  Hey, you around?

  I winced after I sent the text, because how lame was Hey when I was about to deliver news he could not have ever expected. A handful of moments passed before I got a response.

  I thought you didn’t like me anymore.

  He had to be talking about the fact I’d ignored his last text. I was about to respond but he beat me to it.

  I’ve been living in this dark, dark place.

  My brows rose.

  Another text came through. Not eating. Not sleeping.

  “What the . . . ?” I whispered.

  So, so sad. I shaved my head bald.

  There was a pause. I’m totally just kidding.

  A startled laugh erupted.

  And all of that was probably creepy, huh? Yeah, I’m here. What’s up?

  Despite everything, I smiled as I shook my head. He was . . . Nick was a handful. I finally sent him back a text. Is there any way I can see you today? I paused and then added, It’s important.

  Several moments passed before I got a response. Sure. I can be there around three?

  I’d texted back letting him know that was okay, and the next two hours were filled with antsy pacing. When he knocked on my door, a few minutes past three, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I hurried to the door, opening it.

  Seeing Nick after almost two weeks had passed was like laying eyes on him the first time. Dark hair brushed his forehead, the ends curling slightly. His hair was growing, I realized. Those light green eyes were warm and curious as they drifted over my face, and his smile was lopsided. The white thermal he wore stretched over his broad shoulders, and as my gaze dipped, I could see that his hard chest was outlined. He had to have one hell of a workout plan, but I wasn’t sure how he stayed in shape.

  I was pregnant with . . . his kid, and I hardly knew anything about him.

  God, that was like dunking your face in ice water.

  “Hey,” he said, stepping inside. “Sorry I’m late. There was an accident. Took a while to get around it.”

  “It’s okay.” I closed the door, ignoring my pounding heart. “Would you like something to drink?”

  His curious gaze stayed with me. “Sure. What do you have?”

  “Um. Soda. OJ.” I started for the fridge, wishing I had something harder for him to drink. “I have sweet tea.”

  “That’ll work.”

  Busying myself with getting him a glass, I tried to act normal. “Did you work last night?”

  “Yeah.” Without looking at him, I knew he was just outside the kitchen, watching me. “I got off at one. Right now, I’m only working Thursday through Saturday.”

  “Is that enough hours?” I faced him, and sort of wished I hadn’t asked that. Then again, it was sort of necessary. “I mean, Roxy works four days there, doesn’t she? Ten hour shifts.”

  “She does.” He took the drink, eyeing me. “I only need to work those days right now.”

  What did that mean? I knew Roxy made decent money bartending, but she also did graphic design and that kind of stuff on the side. How much money was Nick bringing in if he only needed to work three days? Or maybe he didn’t need to work a lot because he could still live at home with his parents, for all I knew.

  Oh shit. What if he still lived at home?

  I recalled him telling me that he had a college degree, so why was he working at a bar, only three days a week? God, I had so many questions.

  “Did you call me over to talk about my hours at the bar?” he asked, his lopsided grin spreading.

  “No. I . . .” I cleared my throat as I slipped past him and walked to the couch, trying to clear my thoughts. He followed, sitting down on the edge. “That’s not the reason why I asked you to come over.”

  His brows rose slightly as he took a sip of his tea. “I got to admit, the anticipation is killing me.”

  I ran my hands down my denim clad thighs to keep them from shaking. I figured the best way to tell Nick would be like ripping a Band-­Aid off. Make it quick and as painless as possible. My throat tightened. “I d
on’t know how to tell you this.” Pausing, I looked over at him. The easy grin had slipped a notch. “I’m . . . I’m pregnant.”

  There. I said it.

  The grin was completely gone from his face and he was staring at me like I’d spoken an entirely different language. I saw his hand spasm around the glass. He didn’t speak, but since I got the most important words out, there it was, like a plug had been yanked out of my throat.

  “According to the tests I took, I’m around five weeks pregnant, which makes sense timing wise,” I continued in a rush. “I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday, at noon, and I’m guessing they will confirm what I already know.”

  Nick’s mouth moved for a few seconds but there were no immediate sounds. “I used a condom.” Those four words were hoarsely spoken. “I always use a condom.”

  The muscles in my back stiffened as something I’d never even thought of just occurred to me. What if he didn’t believe he was the father? After all, what reason did he have, given how we got together? My heart started to pound. “I know, but the condom had to have broken, and looking back, it did feel . . . different afterward. I haven’t been with anyone else since you and it had been like six months before you. I take birth control pills, but when I was getting ready to move, I missed some,” I rambled on. “I didn’t pay any attention to it, because I wasn’t with anyone until . . . until you.”

  Nick looked away as he set his barely touched drink on the end table. “You’re sure you’re pregnant?”

  “I took three tests.” I waited for him to ask if I was sure he was the father. That question would sting, but I expected it, and couldn’t really blame him for it.

  “Oh, shit.” He pushed to his feet, thrusting a hand through his hair. “Oh, shit.”

  “That pretty much sums it up.”

  Nick glanced down at me, his pupils dilated, and then he looked away. He walked toward the door, and for a moment my heart stopped. I thought he was leaving, but he spun around. Pacing. He was pacing. “How long have you known? Is that why you didn’t return my text last week?”

  His question caught me off guard. “I took the tests last Sunday—­a week ago. I didn’t answer your text, because I . . . well, honestly, I hadn’t wrapped my head around it then. I didn’t know what to say to you.”

  He faced me, his lips thin. “You should’ve told me the moment you found out.”

  I jolted. Of all the things I expected him to say, that hadn’t been it. “I needed to talk to my mom first.”

  Nick blinked, obviously surprised. He opened his mouth and then gave a little shake of his head. Lifting his hand, he rubbed the heel of his palm across his chest. I hoped he wasn’t having a heart attack. I kind of felt like I might have one.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say.

  He turned away and tipped his head back, hands at his hips. “All right. I wasn’t expecting this. I need a moment.”

  Understandable. I pulled my legs up, tucking them close to my chest as I rested my chin on my knees. I had an idea what he must be thinking. Lots of confusion and shock, I imagined. I was still shocked and I’d known for a week.

  “Are you okay?” he asked suddenly, whipping back around to me. I stilled, surprised, as he sat back down on the couch. “That’s why you were sick the other week, wasn’t it? How are you feeling now?”

  Shocked, all I could do was blink at him.

  “Pregnant women get morning sickness, right? That’s why you were sick?”

  I snapped out of it. “I think so, but it hasn’t been severe. It comes and goes throughout the day.”

  He stared at me a moment and then cast his gaze to the floor. “You’re really pregnant.”

  It didn’t sound like a question, so I didn’t answer.

  “I’m . . . I’m going to have a kid.” Shock colored his tone, and I was glad he was sitting down now. “Oh, wow. I don’t . . . know what to say—­wait.” He twisted toward me. “Wait. I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you want this baby?”

  My entire body tensed and my throat sealed off as my pulse skyrocketed, turning my stomach upside down.

  “Because I do,” he said, his gaze holding mine. “We created this baby, didn’t we? So I want this baby. You haven’t said if you do or not or what you plan.”

  I felt my jaw loosen. No words rose to the tip of my tongue. I didn’t know what to say. Shock rippled through me, floored me. Nick wanted this baby? I hadn’t expected that. Oh no. I expected protests and so much surprise that we wouldn’t even get to this conversation today. I figured I was going to have to search his ass down after he ran for the hills, screaming.

  His gaze sharpened. “I’m assuming you haven’t made up your mind or you plan on keeping the baby, because why else would you have told me. You could’ve just . . . you could’ve handled it without me ever knowing.”

  “I couldn’t do that without talking to you.” My mouth felt dry, and I looked away. Everything seemed so . . . so real, which was stupid, because everything was real.

  “You haven’t decided then?” He lurched to his feet and his hand went through his hair again. A moment passed. “Do you even want kids?” A choked laugh rattled out of him. “Fuck. Listen to us.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. “I know.”

  “Do you?” he persisted.

  “Yes. I want kids.” I forced my eyes open just in time to catch a flicker of relief crossing his face. “But I thought I had time and I’d be married first. Or at least . . .”

  “In love? With someone?”

  I blinked and then whispered, “Yeah.”

  Nick’s features softened before he dipped his chin. His shoulders rose with a deep breath. “I can take care of this baby—­I can take care of you, Stephanie.”

  Holy crap.

  My eyes widened, and I swore that my heart might’ve faltered a beat. “I don’t need you to take care of me, Nick. That’s not—­”

  “I know that’s not why you told me and I didn’t mean it like that. I know you probably don’t think much of me—­”

  “What?” My brows lifted. “That’s not true.”

  He went on as if he hadn’t heard me. “—­being that I bartend, but I can support you and this baby. I will. That’s not something you need to worry about.”

  “How can I not?” The question escaped me before I could stop it.

  “Trust me,” he said earnestly.

  My stomach roiled. He was asking for some major trust there, but in the end, whether or not he could help support this child wasn’t going to determine if I kept this baby. Nick was right earlier, but it still hadn’t prepared me for his willingness to do this.

  Nick actually wanted this baby.

  A knot took form in my throat as emotions swirled violently inside me. Normally I was so in control, but everything that was going on had blown through my defenses. Unable to sit, I stood, and before I knew it I was in the kitchen, one hand on the edge of the counter and the other tugging at the collar of my shirt. It felt hot in here. Maybe I shouldn’t have cranked the heat up so much.

  “Are you okay?” Nick’s voice was close.

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “I didn’t plan on getting pregnant. Obviously. And this couldn’t have happened at a worse time, and I feel shitty for even saying that, but I just started a new job and there is so much I want to do—­planned to do—­before having a child. I wanted to travel. I wanted to be stable . . .” Well, the rest of what I wanted was right in everyone’s face. “And I . . .”

  A hand gently settled on my shoulder, turning me around. I swallowed hard as I lifted my gaze. Light green eyes bored into mine. “And what?” Nick asked.

  “I didn’t plan on this,” I repeated as my heart thumped in my chest. “But I want this . . . I want this baby.”

  Something I couldn’t quite read f
lickered in his eyes as he wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulling my fingers away from the collar of my shirt. “Then we’re on the same page.”

  “We are,” I whispered as my gaze dropped to where he still held my wrist between us. “This . . . this isn’t going to be easy, Nick.”

  “There isn’t anything about what is happening that’s going to be easy. You didn’t have any siblings, right?” When I shook my head, a wry grin appeared. “Neither do I. Any experience with babies?”

  My heart was doing that horrible pounding again. “Nope.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Oh geez.”

  Nick laughed, and I couldn’t believe he could laugh right now. “It can’t be that hard.”

  “I’m going to have to thoroughly disagree with that,” I said wryly.

  “We’ll figure this out.” His eyes searched mine when I lifted my gaze. “We will. You and I. Together. We can do this.”

  Together.

  That one word was like having my entire chest placed inside a juice grinder. Together. Besides my mom and my friends, when had I ever approached anything in unity with someone else—­with a guy? Not since high school, and really, one couldn’t count that as an example.

  My thoughts were still whirling and the knot was lodged in my throat, going nowhere. How I planned my entire life had veered off course in one of the most important ways. I had no idea what to expect now, not a week or a month from now, especially not a year from now.

  Everything had changed, and I was . . .

  “I’m scared,” I whispered as my chest squeezed.

  Nick didn’t respond. Not vocally. The hand on my shoulder slid around to the nape of my neck as he dropped my other hand. Without saying a word, he hauled me against his chest and his arms circled me. Stiffening in his hold, I inhaled deeply. He smelled fresh, like spring, and as he dropped his chin to the top of my head, I slammed my eyes shut against the burn.

  But I wasn’t just scared of having a baby. God, that did scare the living hell out of me, because I wasn’t sure if I’d be a good mother, if I would raise a kid right, but the fear swirling around in me like a dusty, dark cloud was twofold.