Chapter 16 Warren
SIXTEEN
WARREN
Harriet devours her second bowl of Apple Jacks like a champ.
It would be impressive if I weren’t fraying at the edges, coming completely undone, all the while making commitments I’m uncertain I can fulfill.
I’m going to try, regardless of my screaming internal thoughts.
This isn’t about me. It’s about Harriet and our child.
Our child.
An odd sensation rips through me as I watch her, wearing my suit jacket, smacking her lips together after the last mouthful.
When she answered the door, my heart cracked.
She’d been crying because of me. The responsibility for our situation is shared; we were both present and willing to forgo a condom that night.
Now, it’s time to play my part. What that looks like is Harriet’s call, who, for some unearthly reason, is understanding and tolerant of my earlier fuck-up.
During the short time we spent together, her kindness shone bright, and even now, when she should absolutely give me the cold shoulder, she chooses consideration.
“Umm.” I grip the back of my neck. “You must be almost twelve weeks, right?”
Surprises colors her face. “I turned eleven weeks today. They’re not kidding when they say the first trimester isn’t a walk in the park.”
Guilt riddles me. You could’ve helped her through it if you didn’t lie about your job.
“Has it been bad?” I ask carefully.
Her lips corkscrew. “You don’t want to know.”
I frown. “I do, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
A red hue creeps up her neck. “Challenging is one way to put it. I was really sick until recently and had to cancel a few shifts at the distillery. It’s started ease up, but as you can see from this evening, it reappears now and again.”
“The distillery?” She said she worked at a bar.
“Yeah, that’s where I bartend and perform sets in the evenings.
Jimmy, my boss, is very understanding. Thank goodness, or I wouldn’t have made rent this month.
Outside of the near constant nausea, my boobs hurt, I’ve never felt exhaustion like this, I’m bloated and constipated, everything aches, and I’m one emotional commercial away from a full-blown meltdown.
” She releases a long breath. “Bet you’re sorry you asked now, huh? ”
I’m a little taken aback by her candidness, and then I recall how upfront she was the first time we met. The appeal of it hasn’t changed. Our circumstances, however, have.
I reach for my water. “Not at all.”
Harriet shifts in her seat, the cherry-red leather squeaking. “Why are you here, Warren?”
My glass freezes midair, throat desert dry. What’s the best response when I don’t know the answer myself?
She notes my hesitancy. “I don’t want to force you into making a decision you’re not comfortable with.
I’m capable of doing this alone—and I’m not really.
I have amazing friends and family who have rallied around me since day one.
You said you never wanted kids, and I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t want you to regret your choice months down the line or after the baby is here.
I’ll respect your decision if you want to walk away, but I won’t accept you being in their life one minute and abandoning them the next. ”
“I didn’t say I don’t want them.” My eyes falls.
I’ve worked hard to construct my walls, ensuring they can withstand the trials of life.
I never thought this would be my next battle, that Harriet would be the one to test my stronghold.
“I don’t doubt you can do this alone. It doesn’t mean you should have to.
” My voice catches, and I press my palms into the cool table top to stop my arms trembling.
“I was married once, and after, kids weren’t in my future. ”
She chews her lip. “And now they are?”
“Now, I’ll do whatever you need from me, no matter how big or small. I’m sorry I wasn’t there at the beginning, and if you’d rather I’m not involv—”
“No,” she cuts me off and reaches across the table, her hand on top of mine.
The contact sends a spark of electricity through my veins.
“If you’re prepared to do this, I want you involved.
This is bigger than us—this little life we’ve created—and while I believe you, it’s going to take some time for me to trust your word. ”
God, she’s bold, intentions pure as gold.
My polar opposite.
She’ll make an incredible mother.
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Harriet. I promise.” I stress the last two words.
This might not be what I want, but it’s happening.
Harriet collects her honey-blonde hair and pushes it over her shoulder. My gaze darts up, ignoring the smattering of freckles adorning her delicate collarbone.
“Do you want to see the baby?” Something sparks in her eyes.
“The baby?” I reply hoarsely.
“Yeah. The scan.” She retrieves a black-and-white photograph from her purse and places it between us.
The world stills.
“I’m not finding out the gender, if that’s okay with you. I like the idea of a surprise,” Harriet continues, her voice dulled by the roaring in my ears.
My fingers hover over the blurry image. A head. Two arms. Two legs.
Half of me, half of her.
The hollowed cavity in my chest sputters, trying to revive itself.
“Button is healthy, growing perfectly, and due to arrive on June twenty-sixth.”
I glance up at her. “Button?”
Her nose wrinkles as she laughs. “When I first found out I was pregnant, I thought the baby was the size of a button. Turns out, they were a lot smaller. More like a poppyseed. They’re the size of a strawberry now, but I still call them Button.”
My eyes drift back to the sonogram. Keeping my emotions in check is difficult. The room spins, but my gaze remains centered on the little life in front of me. Button.
“You can have that one if you like,” Harriet offers.
Three beats pass. My voice comes out sharper than intended as I slide the scan across the table. “No, you keep it. We should exchange numbers, though.”
Her excitement fizzles out, the moment ruined.
“Right. Of course.” She holds out her hand. “Pass me your phone.”
She keys in her number and drops herself a text. “There’s a lot to discuss, but we have time. You should get back to the wedding. I can drive you.”
I gesture for the bill. “Nah, I could do with the fresh air.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Warren, it’s forty-five degrees out. You’re not walking.”
“The cold doesn’t bother me.” Plus, I need some headspace before returning to the celebrations, knowing my family will have questions about my absence. “You should get home and rest.”
Whatever argument she had is lost to a long yawn.
Once the bill is settled, I walk her back to her apartment.
Her hair reflects the streetlights, shifting like iridescent silk with each step.
My jacket hides the form fitting dress that hugs her curves perfectly and emphasizes her breasts that dare I say are fuller.
When she turns to face me, her expression is neutral.
“Guess I’ll see you soon?”
I nod. “Guess so.”
“Enjoy the wedding.” Her keys jingle as she unlocks her door, and I ignore her friend’s face pressed against the second-floor window.
“Harriet?”
“Mm-hmm?”
“Thank you for hearing me out. Text me if you need anything, day or night.” I clear my throat. “Hearing you sing earlier…you’re phenomenal.”
I allow myself three seconds to admire the way her lips part in an O before I’m spinning on my heel and striding away.
Shock blocks out the cold, and the brisk walk does nothing to clear my mind.
If anything, it’s messier, like a jigsaw puzzle without the edges, allowing every intrusive thought to spill out onto the frosty sidewalk.
Whatever troubles cloud my head are irrelevant.
I’m going to be a dad.