24. Nick
Nick
Itry to consider every possible scenario of how this conversation could go. I’ve been avoiding this—avoiding her—for weeks, and I know I can’t keep running. I’ve been a coward, and I hate myself for it.
She deserves better. I know it, but I’m still not convinced I’m the thing that’s better.
She and my kid might be better off if I financially support her and the child without being involved. I would hate to be the asshole that screwed up a kid.
When I pull up to her building, I sit in the car for a moment, staring at the steering wheel. My chest feels tight, like I can’t quite catch my breath. This is it. No more hiding. No more excuses.
“Man up, Nick.”
I get out of the car and head up to her apartment, my heart pounding with every step. When I knock on the door, it feels like the sound echoes forever.
Ava opens the door, and the sight of her hits me like a punch to the gut. She looks tired—dark circles under her eyes, her hair pulled back into a messy bun—but there’s a sadness in her expression that makes me feel even worse.
I hate that I might be the cause of that sadness.
“Hey,” I say, my voice rough.
“Hey,” she replies, stepping aside to let me in. “Thank you for coming.”
“I should have come earlier.”
The tension between us is thick, suffocating almost, as I follow her into the living room.
We sit down on the couch with her on one side and me on the other.
I glance around the room, trying to figure out where to start. My eyes land on a photo of Ava and Amelia, arms thrown around each other, huge smiles on their faces.
"How's your sister doing?" I ask.
Ava raises an eyebrow, like she can't believe I'm starting with this. "Amelia? She's good. Busy with the baby." She pauses, her eyes searching mine. "She's been a huge help."
I nod, fiddling with a loose thread on the couch cushion. "That's good. Really good."
Silence stretches between us, awkward and heavy. I clear my throat, scrambling for something—anything—to say.
"How’s work?" I ask, then immediately regret it.
Ava gives a humorless laugh. “Work is great, if you don’t count the fact that everyone knows I’m pregnant.”
“What?” I frown. I can’t help but feel a little pissed about the situation. I would have expected her to wait until we had a chance to talk things through. “I wasn’t aware you were telling people.”
“I’m not.”
I don’t get it.
“We need to figure this out, Nick,” she says before I can ask her why she’s telling people. “I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. I’m pregnant, and whether you like it or not, this is happening. The baby is coming in approximate thirty-three weeks, give or take a week or two.”
“That seems specific.”
“I went to the doctor.”
“You did?” I ask. Again, I feel like I’m being left out of some pretty big decisions. Then again, I suppose I haven’t actually been around.
“I had to,” she says. “I’m pregnant, Nick. I have a responsibility to this baby. I can’t just hop on my private jet and fly all around the country and hope it resolves itself. Denial isn’t going to fix this.”
I nod, my throat suddenly very dry. “I know, Ava. I’ve been an asshole about this, and I’m sorry. I was just … shocked. I didn’t expect this, and I didn’t handle it well.”
“Shocked? That’s your excuse? You acted like I did this on purpose, like I was trying to trap you or something. Do you really think so little of me?”
Her words hit me like a slap. “No, Ava. That’s not what I think. I was scared. This is a lot, and I didn’t know how to handle it. But that’s no excuse for the way I treated you. I’m sorry.”
She studies me for a moment, her expression unreadable.
Then she takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
“What do you want, Nick? Do you even want to be involved in this baby’s life?
Because if you don’t, I need to know. I’m not going to force you to be a father if you don’t want to be. ”
This is it—the turning point. I can’t afford to mess this up.
“I want to be involved,” I say. “I want to be a part of this baby’s life. I know I haven’t handled this well, but I’m asking for a chance. Please.”
She lets out a slow breath and nods, like the weight of the world has been lifted just a little. “Okay. But you can’t keep doing this, Nick. You can’t just check out whenever things get hard.”
I nod, desperate for her to believe me. “I won’t. I promise.”
I see her eyes soften just a little, and I realize how afraid I’ve been that she would give up on me.
“What do we tell everyone at work?” she asks.
“Nothing.” I shrug. “Why tell them anything? It’s none of their business.”
She rolls her eyes. “Because that’s not how office politics work.”
I close the space between us on the couch and take her hands in mine.
“We need to figure out how we are going to do this,” she says, “together.”
“I know,” I reply, squeezing her hands gently. “I’m in this, Ava. Completely. I’m probably going to fuck up more times than either of us can count, but I’m going to try.”
The edges of her mouth lift into a tentative smile, and for the first time in weeks, I feel a tiny bit less like an asshole. She makes me feel like I can be a good man. A good father. With her coaching, of course.
“Okay,” she says, her voice quiet. “But you need to understand something, Nick. This isn’t just about you and me anymore. This is about our child. If you’re in, you’re all in. No more running. No more excuses.”
We sit quietly for a few seconds. My thumb runs over the back of her hand. I have a million questions, but I’m not sure I want to overwhelm her.
“How are you feeling?” I ask. “What did the doctor say?”
“I’m fine. Tired. Nauseous. The usual. But the doctor says everything looks good so far.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.”
"I want you to be involved, Nick. Really involved, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to be. If this is a chore, I’d prefer you just not be around. It’ll make it harder on me.”
"I do," I say quickly. "I swear. I'm going to prove it."
"Have you told your family?" she asks.
"No," I admit. "I wasn’t even sure how to …"
"Guess we’re in the same boat." She rubs at the exhaustion under her eyes with a sigh.
“So, people at work know?” I ask.
“Oh yeah. Your favorite employee.”
"Sierra?"
"Yeah," Ava snorts. "She cornered me in the bathroom and asked if I was pregnant."
I inwardly groan, knowing exactly how that conversation would have looked. “What did you say?”
“I tried denying it, but it’s kind of hard when you’re throwing up in the stall.”
“That little?—”
“She made it clear you were going to run away and a bunch of other shit. Pretty sure she’s told everyone by now.”
“Shit,” I sigh.
“Yep. So, that was a fun day.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugs and waves it off. “Doesn’t matter. They were going to find out eventually, but Sierra is likely giving them plenty of bullshit to make the story juicier.”
“She knows it’s mine?”
“She assumed. I didn’t confirm or deny it. I did kind of tell her I knew she cheated on you. Sorry. She was just being such a bitch. I lost my cool.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I say. “Sierra’s reign of terror has gone on for too long.”
“I don’t know,” she sighs. “I’ll just have to deal with it. I’ll look for another job. I’m not sure I want that kind of stress in my life while I’m trying to grow a whole human.”
"No," I snap. "I'm going to fix this."
"How?"
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Just leave it alone. I’m fine. I was just in a bad mood. I don’t care what they think. The only thing that matters is you know I didn’t do this on purpose.”
“I know you didn’t. I was a fool to think that.”
“Do you want to see it?” she asks.
“See what?”
“The baby.”
I raise my eyebrows. I can’t help but look down at her stomach that still looks pretty flat to me. “See it?”
She gets up and digs in her purse and then presents me with a square of weird paper. I stare at it and have to wonder if I’m being pranked.
Do I laugh?
Something tells me that would be the wrong reaction.
It's just a blob. Like, seriously, there’s nothing remotely recognizable in the picture she's given me. I see her name in the corner and a few other numbers, but that’s it.
“What do you think?” Ava asks.
“I think I might need some help,” I admit, squinting at the little squiggles of black and white.
She laughs. “It’s right there,” she says, pointing to an indistinct smudge.
I lean closer and tilt my head, hoping a different angle will magically make it clear. “Are you sure?”
Ava shakes her head with a fond sigh. “Yes, I’m sure.” She taps the picture again. “That’s your child.”
I desperately want it to look more like a baby, or at least less like an ink spill on cardstock. “Seven weeks?” I ask.
“Seven weeks,” she confirms. “And two days.”
I chuckle and rub the back of my neck. “It kind of looks like a kidney bean.”
She grins wider and nods. “Yeah, but it’s our kidney bean.”
Hearing her say that turns all my insides to mush—the good kind of mush that makes me smile like a total idiot.
“This is amazing,” I tell her honestly. It really is amazing, even if right now it mostly looks like something from outer space.
“You’ll see it better at the next ultrasound. Amelia gave me a couple of books to read all about pregnancy and stuff.”
“Man, we’re really doing this.”
“Afraid so,” she laughs.
“Have you eaten?” I ask. I’m looking for an excuse to hang out a bit longer.
“No. Not yet. I was going to make some soup.”
“I’ll order something. Anything you want. I plan on spoiling the mother of my child.”
“Oh yeah?” she teases. “Keep talking like that, and I might get used to it.”
“Isn’t that the idea?” I grin and grab my phone, ready to prove myself with takeout. “What are you in the mood for?”
She grimaces. “I don’t know. I’m afraid to eat too much. I don’t want things to come back.”
I nod, scrolling through the options. “How about tacos? Too spicy?”
She thinks about it. “I think tacos will work. Nothing too spicy. I honestly don’t know if it matters. No matter what I eat, drink, or don’t eat, I’m still sick at nine-thirty every morning.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “Truly. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”
“Unfortunately, no. I have to ride it out.”
“Tacos it is,” I say.
After placing the order, I pull her into my arms and simply hold her. I know not everything is settled, but I’m looking forward to trying to figure it out.