20. Simon
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“I’m the dad?”
“Also yes.”
“You’re the mom.”
“Obviously.”
“We’re going to be parents.”
“All those things.”
“Okay, then.” I sit back on Charlie’s couch, utterly speechless.
I’m rarely speechless. I’ve been talking in full sentences since before I was potty trained. Teachers had to give me time limits in class of how long I could talk when they called on me.
But here I am. Without words.
Charlie’s pregnant.
With my baby.
I’m going to be a dad.
I should be freaking out. Like full-blown, breathing-into-a-bag panic.
But I’m not.
Not at all.
Why am I not freaking out? Me? A dad? I’m the fun uncle. The happy-go-lucky godfather. Never once in Magnolia’s lifetime has Wes asked me to babysit, and with good reason. I don’t know how to take care of a kid. Every fiber in my body should be on high alert panic mode right now.
But it’s not. And I have a feeling why.
It has everything to do with the woman in front of me. She’s the one who has always been different. Made me want different things. Made me think in different ways. The only one I could ever picture a future with.
The mother of my child.
So this might not be happening in the order it should be. Or maybe the order I ever imagined. But I was honest when I said that I wanted a future with Charlie. And if it’s going to include a little mini us, then let’s fucking go.
Oh my God…I’m going to be a dad!
“Simon?” Charlie says, worry in her voice. “Please say something. When you don’t talk that worries me more than anything. It’s unnatural. Please?—”
I don’t let her finish that sentence. She can’t, when I’m kissing the words out of her mouth.
I’ll speak eventually, when I come up with the appropriate words, but until then, she needs to know I’m in. I’m all in. And if I can let her know through my lips, or my touch, then dammit, that’s what I’m going to do.
I cup her face with my hands, brushing away a stray tear that’s coming down her cheek. Our lips are finding a rhythm, and I know there are a lot more pressing issues to deal with, but I just realized that kissing Charlie is about to become a regular thing for me, and that makes me very, very excited.
“Oh my God, we’re having a baby!” My mouth travels down to her stomach, where I start peppering her with kisses. “Hey, little baby. I’m your daddy.”
“Please don’t say daddy. That’s weird.”
“Fine,” I groan. “I’m your dad. Ugh. Boring. Don’t worry, I’ll work on your mama, and she’ll come around to me saying daddy. Or you can come up with a nickname for me. Because you already have one, Baby Bug.”
“Baby Bug?”
“Yup. She’s my Baby Bug. Our Baby Bug. It’s perfect.”
“She? Simon, you found out I was pregnant fifty seconds ago. I found out twenty minutes before that. Let’s cool it on the gender and nicknames and figure out what the hell we’re going to do.”
“We can see who the fun parent is going to be,” I whisper to Baby Bug, leaving one more kiss on Charlie’s stomach, only to be greeted by a dark look that sends a shiver down my spine.
“What I meant to say is that you’re fun, too.”
“That’s what I thought,” Charlie says. “Now, let’s have an actual conversation, please. Because while you’re planning the gender reveal, I’m mildly freaking out. And I was expecting you to be mad or upset, so the whole belly kissing thing is really throwing me for a loop.”
Shit…chill out, Simon.
“Of course. What do you need? What can I get? What do you want me to do?”
She shakes her head, but the small smile on her face is comforting. “Can we just talk? Make sure we’re on the same page?”
“Yes. Perfect. Talking. I’m great at talking. First, obviously, you’re moving in with me.”
Her eyes go wide. “Whoa! Wait a hot second. Who said anything about moving in together?”
“Me. Just now. When you asked me to talk.”
“Simon…” I’m trying to read her right now, but it’s hard. She’s taking deep breaths. Her eyes are closed. It reminds me of when I was little and my mom was trying to reason with me but I was being…well, me. That’s probably not a good sign.
“Let’s take eighteen steps back. You came over here today to ask me to date you. Which I haven’t even agreed to yet.”
“Wait! Does having a baby together not automatically mean we’re together?”
She shakes her head. “Can we put a pause on the whole us dating thing? I haven’t properly freaked out about the whole I’m having a baby thing, and I’d really like to do that first.”
Oh. Shit. What an asshole I am. Here I go, yet again, only thinking about myself, when it’s her feelings and her emotions that I need to be taking cues from.
“I’m sorry,” I say, opening my arms, which she comes into. “How about this? Let’s freak out together.”
“You’re freaked? What happened to Baby Bug and stomach kisses?”
“I’m a multitasker,” I say, squeezing her tighter. “I might be excited. And I’m all in. But now that you’re making me sit here and think, the freak-out is coming.”
She laughs, though I can tell the dam has broken. She’s crying again. She grabs onto my shirt, clinging to me, as we both let our emotions even out. At this point, though, I hope she’s holding onto me for comfort and not because she thinks I’m going to run.
I’m not.
“We’re going to have a baby,” she whispers.
I kiss the top of her head and brush the hair off her forehead. “We’re going to have a baby.”
“Do you still hate me?”
Her question kind of takes me by surprise, but I’m glad she asked it. “No. I never hated you. Not really. Was I angry for years? Yes. Was I angry the other night when you told me? Yes.”
“I don’t blame you,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I need to say that again. I should have confronted you. I shouldn’t have assumed.”
“Thank you for the apology, but I meant what I said. It was the past. And who knows what would have happened. We can woulda, coulda, shoulda ourselves until we’re blue in the face. But that’s not going to do either of us any good.”
“You’re right,” she says, turning herself so she’s lying against my chest. “Why live in the past when our present just got a little more interesting?”
I laugh and let my hand travel down to her stomach. Obviously she’s not showing yet, but the thought of us being in this same position, her back against my front, as we sit on the couch together, my hands on her swollen, pregnant belly, makes me overly excited in many, many ways.
“One stupid night,” she mumbles.
“One drunk night.”
“One unsafe night.”
“One epic night.”
This makes her laugh. “What are we going to do, Simon?”
I kiss her head again. “We’re going to have a baby. We’re going to figure us out as we go along, and in the meantime, we’re going to get ready for the blessing we didn’t know we needed.”
She sits up and turns to me. “But are we ready? You’re…well…”
“A grown-ass manchild who you’re questioning if he’s ready for the responsibility of fatherhood?”
She shrugs. “I was trying to say that nicely.”
“No need. I know who I am as a person.”
“So yeah, you’re…you. And I’m me. We don’t even know what we’re like together, let alone as parents. I just moved here. I’m a week away from the soft opening of the restaurant. I took this huge leap of faith, while barely being able to afford it, and now I have to add on doctor’s visits and baby things. And who is going to watch the baby when it’s born? Can Mellie run the restaurant when I’m on maternity leave? Oh my God, I’m not ready, and I’m freaking the hell out.”
Charlie’s shaking now, overwhelmed in every possible way.
“Hey,” I say, taking her hands and kissing each of them. This seems to calm her a little, but I can still see the fear on her face. “For starters, if you think for a fucking second I’m going to let you pay for anything in regard to our child, then you’ve apparently never met me.”
“Simon, I can’t ask?—”
“No. Stop.” My tone of voice is as serious as it’s ever been. “I can’t carry this baby for you. Or take away your morning sickness or do any of those things. But you know what I can do? Spend money. You know what I have? More money than I know what to do with. This is how I’m helping. This is how I’m taking some stress from you. Let me do this for you. For us. For Baby Bug.”
I see the tears starting to well again. “I want to say yes.”
“It’s cute to think you have a choice.”
This makes her laugh a little. “Are you sure? I feel bad.”
“If you apologize again you’ll have a new car by morning.”
“Okay,” she yelps, eyes wide. “Thank you.”
“You never need to thank me. This is how I know to help. How to show I care. Please let me do this.”
“All right,” she says, a little more sure this time. “There’s still a lot more to figure out.”
“That’s okay,” I say, bringing her back against my chest. “We have plenty of time.”
“I don’t know. The baby will be here before we know it.”
“When is it due?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess we should go to the doctor. Shit, I don’t have insurance yet. Or know any doctors.”
“Don’t worry. I have an insurance guy.”
“Of course you do.”
“Okay. Then that’s first. You get insurance, even though I’ll be paying all of your bills. We can find a doctor. I wonder if Amelia knows any? I can ask her.”
“No!” she yells, popping up. “We can’t tell anyone yet. It’s too early.”
“Really? I want to tell everyone. Like, I want to go to the roof right now and yell it out with a bullhorn.”
“Simon, please,” she begs. “At least wait until we go to the doctor and confirm everything. I can Google doctors. Though I’m sure you already know a guy.”
I shake my head. “I have a lot of guys for a lot of things. But shockingly, I’ve never needed one for babies.”
This makes her laugh. The first real one of the day. “Let’s just take a breather. Keep it to ourselves for a bit. Get the restaurant open. Then after, we can tell everyone. Deal?”
“Fine. But I want one thing in return.”
She sighs. “What?”
“Since I can’t tell anyone, and I am very excited about this, permission to freak out here, in front of you?”
The smile she gives me lights up the room. “Permission granted.”
“Yes!” I jump off the couch and get some serious air. “I’m going to be a daddy!”
“Please quit saying daddy.”
“Nope! Because that’s what I am! Daddy Simon, coming soon!”
“This is going to be the longest eight months of my life…”