33. Aaron
THIRTY-THREE
AARON
I make good use of my new privileges. I wake her up with coffee, an almond croissant, and fresh peonies the next morning.
According to my phone (which is never wrong), her shark week starts today. It’s been four whole months since the last time I did this routine, what was our usual for so many years. I know she saw my Romania post two months ago, but I missed last month entirely.
I will say she hasn’t been as…touchy as she usually is before her period, but maybe that’s just because we had such an emotional couple of days, maybe it threw her for a loop.
A shy smile graces her gorgeous lips when she makes her way downstairs to start a cup of coffee in her Keurig machine around seven AM and finds me waiting in her kitchen, leaning with my back against her small counter, legs crossed one over the other, two gifts for her in hand. A little blush crosses her face, I think it’s at seeing me in her place on my own doing. She used to come over to my place every day, this is kinda new territory for us. Even though I had a key for years, can’t say it ever got much use.
Then again, those rosy cheeks might be because she’s wearing a little slinky silken pajama set, short shorts and some strappy shirt, in this ivory color that does things for her complexion. I take a second to appreciate how good she looks first thing in the morning, and yup, that pink in her cheeks deepens.
“God, your future man is one lucky bastard, you know that?” I tell her as she walks up to take what I’m holding out for her.
Her head drops forward, her tiny messy bun (still a disaster from sleep) topples forward too, and she takes a sip of the coffee I hand her so as to deflect the attention. She’s such a character, my Gem. So beautiful, can be so playful, the way she teased me last night in front of our friend (and her friends, for that matter, not to mention the rest of the club), but so shy when the attention is on her. I want to find all the ways to make those cheeks turn pink for me.
“What’s in that?” Her chin lifts toward the white paper bag in my other hand.
“Your monthly croissant, Jellybean.”
She smiles wide, but shakes her head. “That’s sweet of you, but I’m not on my period.”
Her slender hand reaches out to take the bag from me anyway, her fingers brushing mine, and she definitely adds something new to the routine when she steps up on her tiptoes and kisses my cheek. Lord give me strength. This version of her is too perfect. I didn’t even realize how fucking sweet she might be as a girlfriend. My mind is in overdrive, unable to keep up with all the ways she’s outdoing my daydreams of her.
Her words register after a minute, and my nose scrunches in disbelief.
“Gem, my calendar has never been wrong. Not in the four years I’ve been bringing you croissants.”
She takes another sip of her vanilla latte, choking on it just a little, and she turns around so her back is to me, avoiding my gaze.
My thoughts race , piecing together the clues.
No period.
She didn’t drink last night.
In fact, she hasn’t had a drink in…a month? Since the night before she and Spencer broke up, as far as I can recall.
I dart to her fridge, swinging the door open with the fervor of a madman. My eyes scan the contents rapidly, looking for proof.
The rosé and wine coolers I expect to find are…noticeably absent.
But she has a bottle of Pedialyte on the bottom shelf. Vegetables. Proteins. No soft cheeses.
Half of this shit wouldn’t mean anything to me, except for what my parents deigned to over-share with me when discussing their fertility efforts and what to expect from their impending journey, if all goes well. Their fridge was already half-empty in anticipation of what was to come (hence my questions that prompted the over-sharing when I went scrounging for food), and it looked a lot like the scene in front of me now.
The wheels are turning in my head, and everything is clicking together.
No period.
Her avoiding me when I pointed it out.
Why she was so emotional the other night.
The lack of alcohol in her house.
Her nursing only waters last night.
This healthy food? She doesn’t eat this shit on her own.
Why she was so adamant I leave if I wasn’t serious about her, if I wasn’t all in?
Could this be part of why she’s been so hesitant to let me back in her life?
It’s not just her life anymore?
My entire life flashes before my eyes in a matter of seconds, as the pieces of the puzzle put themselves together as I stare into space, at the bottom shelf of her fridge.
I just figured out what I want from life. Her . Please don’t take away my chance to build this life with her. Even if it looks different from what I thought it would. I don’t care.
My mind is made up in less than fifteen seconds, and I all but slam the door of the refrigerator as I turn to face her. She’s still facing the other way, busying herself by the sink, doing fuck knows what rather than face me.
I approach her slowly, surely, and corner her against the deep well of the sink. My presence startles her, and she nearly jumps out of her skin, turning around to face me, her eyes falling down my chest and abdomen as she sees how little space there is between us.
“What are you doing?” she asks, a little breathless.
I don’t even mind the fact that she has coffee breath. That should tell you how much this girl means to me. Because if a costar has it on set? I’m out until that shit passes.
“You’re not alone,” I tell her seriously, one hand coming up to cup her cheek delicately.
“What?” Her eyes are darting between mine, her face a mask of confusion.
She doesn’t know I know.
“You’re not alone in this, Gem. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Whatever you want to do.”
“Wh—what are you talking about?” She looks almost fearful now, almost like she’s worried for me. But she’s the one who we should be focusing on.
“If you want to raise this baby, Gem, I’ll raise it with you. I’ll love them like they’re my own. This changes nothing for me, okay?” My thumb traces her cheek softly as I stare into her eyes, making sure she knows I mean this with everything I am. “I’ll make sure you get the best medical care. Provide for our child in any way you want. I didn’t think it would be quite this soon, but of course I want kids with you, so what’s the difference doing it now rather than later?”
She’s speechless. Overcome, I think. I let my words sink in.
One second of silence stretches into five.
And then…she breaks down, doubling over, sending me scattering backward to give her a little bit of space. She might be about to puke? Or else she’s crying. Yeah, I think she’s crying. Fuck, I have some new books to find and read, surely there’s some on how to deal with pregnant chicks. Never done this before. I’ll figure it out though. Figure a back rub is a good way to start.
My hand reaches over, starts making gentle circles between her shoulders, trying to soothe her, calm her down, let her know I’m with her.
She shoots back up suddenly until she’s standing straight again, her face red, eyes watering.
I realize it’s mirth on her face. This chick is laughing .
What.
The.
Fuck.
“Why…” she starts, but can’t get the words out through the lack of breaths she’s taking in. She tries again. “Why do you think I’m pregnant, Aaron?”
My jaw falls in disbelief. I was nothing but sensitive, committed, and thoughtful, and she’s openly laughing in my face.
“Your period is late,” I start.
“Actually, it’s missing entirely, but go on,” she says, still giggling, a finger polished in deep purple wiping a tear from her right eye.
My face screws up, even more puzzled now as to why she’s laughing, how a missing period does anything but further prove my point, and I give her more of my reasonings.
“Exactly. And you didn’t drink last night.”
She nods for me to continue, so I do.
“Your staple alcohols are not present in your fridge. Neither are some of your favorite cheeses. But you do have Pedialyte in your fridge.”
“So because I bought healthy groceries for myself, and I’m not boozing it up, you assume that I’m pregnant ?” She’s practically howling at this point, and I’m starting to get annoyed. My reasoning is pretty fucking solid, if you ask me.
“I know you were having…sex,” I say the word delicately, like it doesn’t turn my stomach to imagine her with someone else, “with your ex.” I still refuse to say his stupid name.
“So because I’ve been sexually active, I’m pregnant?”
“Okay, listen, can you stop mocking me and just fucking tell me what’s so funny?” It’s a little snappy of me, but I’m getting impatient. Am I about to be a stepdad or aren’t I?
She takes a few calming breaths, fanning her face (and the tears of laughter gracing it), before hopping up backward on the counter, seating herself there and crossing her legs at the ankles, swinging them as she stares at me.
“First, you’re adorable,” she says, and my prickly bits feel marginally soothed at the compliment, but I’m still wary.
“Second, I’m no longer getting my periods because of the birth control I’m on, Stone. Not because I’m pregnant.” She looks at me pointedly, and I drop my gaze to the floor, bring my right hand up to scratch the back of my neck.
“I used to keep the wine at your place, not really at mine.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. But if you must know, I got pretty shitfaced a few weeks back, after everything with you, and Spencer…” she trails off for a second. “Drank everything I had in the house. Then got the worst hangover of my life, Instacarted some Pedialyte to help with that, and swore of alcohol for the foreseeable future.”
“Oh.” Now my cheeks are heating.
“Mmhmm,” she says, all amused, eyes twinkling again.
“But I’ll happily eat the croissant. Thanks, kid.” She shoots me a saucy wink before tearing off a piece of it and tossing the bag back to the counter. She holds the chunk of pastry between her first finger and thumb, her head tilted back and mouth wide open to drop it in, then makes a show out of licking her fingers while holding my eyes.
This morning has been a goddamn ride for my consciousness.
I wonder if this is the kind of excitement I’m in for from now on. The thought warms my chest, and I realize I’m in for whatever the future holds, as long as it’s with the girl in front of me, and she’s got that smile on her face.