10. Eric #2
She wraps both hands around her glass. I want to touch her, anchor her, ask her to let me be part of this. Instead, I shift slightly under the table, brushing her knee. She doesn’t move away. She doesn’t lean in, either.
“I think,” she says slowly, “that I’m scared he’ll ruin this experience for me. The way he ruins everything. But not telling him… That ruins something, too, doesn’t it?”
I nod, but I disagree. It doesn’t ruin a fucking thing because he isn’t worthy. “You don’t have to decide everything tonight.”
“No,” she says. “But I kind of want to. I hate being in limbo.”
Same. I push my plate aside and lean in a little. My palms are damp, and my throat’s gone dry, even though I’m on my third glass of water. I have to do this now. If I wait, I’ll overthink it. I’ll back out and pretend I never had the thought in the first place.
“Amanda…”
She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.
“What if telling or not telling Daray weren’t your only options?” I ask.
She snorts, almost reflexively, but the noise is half-hearted. “That’s not how this works, Eric. I can’t kind of tell him.”
I shake my head, refocusing. “That’s not what I mean.
” I clear my throat a few times, stalling.
The words are there, but they feel enormous.
Stupid. Naive. It’s not my baby. But it could be.
Because I’m more than my failures. “He’s having a baby with someone else, right?
” I ask. She nods. I finally caught it—humiliation.
That’s what’s in her face; behind the anger.
Diego was right. Hell, I’ll work with that. “So can you.”
“No, I can’t. I’m already pregnant,” she replies, confused, tilting her head like I’ve missed a key point in basic logic.
I purse my lips. Goddamnit, Eric, just say it.
I try again, slower now. Here goes nothing.
“Amanda, I know my being there today was… different. I know it probably crossed a line or blurred something you were trying to keep clean. But I meant it when I said thank you. For letting me be there. For letting me… feel that.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine, and she goes very still, without tensing, listening with her whole body.
“I want to do more than just be there,” I tell her. “Not just for the next appointment or expenses or the emergencies when you need help. I want—” I stop, forcing myself not to look away. “I want fifty-fifty. I want to do all of it with you. I want to co-parent.”
The word drops between us like a confession, heavier than expected.
Her brow furrows slightly. “Co-parent.”
“Yeah.” My voice cracks, and I hate how it sounds, what it gives away.
She sets her fork down and leans back, crossing her arms. Not defensive. Just… steadying herself. I can tell she’s trying to stay rational.
“Eric…”
“I know it sounds… outrageous. I want it, though. I’ve known it since I grabbed your hand in that room, and you let me hear your baby’s heartbeat.”
She flinches at your, and I catch myself. I need her to know what I mean.
“It could be our baby,” I say, softer. “If you let it be. I know it’s not mine, Amanda. Not by blood. But… I’d love to raise this baby with you.”
She leans further back, jaw set tight. Her eyes flicker to mine, then away, distancing herself mid-conversation.
“You’re serious,” she says with a disbelieving puff of air.
“I am.”
She shakes her head slightly. “I don’t understand why you’d want this. You don’t owe me this, Eric. You know that, right?”
I exhale, and the laugh that comes out is hollow. “I don’t trust Daray,” I whisper. “You know my history with father figures.”
She leans back into the table, like my truth is bringing us back together.
“You’ve gotten caught in the wreckage of that more than once.
And I don’t trust Daray to get it right.
So the baby never wonders if it was their fault their father walked away.
And because you—” My voice almost breaks.
I clench my fists in my lap, keeping myself held in.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” I croak past the lump in my throat.
“It’s all on your terms. Always. But Amanda, this baby…
They won’t have to even wonder if their father loves them. Because I-I already do.”
She doesn’t move, but there’s a storm in her eyes. A storm that gives me hope. “I’m not even planning on staying with you, Eric.”
“Well, you’d obviously have to,” I say before I can stop myself, and try to smile, but it lands sideways. “It’d be the best for our child.”
Our child. The phrase reverberates through me like a struck chord. Her lips part slightly. Her arms stretch on the table, so close, as if she’s about to touch me. My heart is knocking into my ribs. Until she pulls her arms and crosses over her chest.
“What about Daray?” she asks.
“What about him?” I counter.
“If we go around saying the baby is yours, he’s going to think I cheated on him with you. Does that sound like a good plan to you?”
“I honestly don’t give two fucks if Daray thinks we’ve been sleeping together for months. Do you?” I say a little too fast. “We’re raising a baby together. That’s all anybody needs to know. You and I keep our truth close to our chest.”
“And Val’s. Cat’s out of the bag with her.” She gives me a sly look.
I nod. “And Diego’s.”
She nods, her voice low. “You’d do this with me? Even if we don’t… Even if we’re not together?”
“I’d do it only with you,” I say, and I mean it. “Stay with me… For now. We’ll need more space, but we can move elsewhere. Or not. We just figure it out as we go.”
Her eyes glisten, and she turns her face slightly like she’s hiding from me. “I can’t trap you this way, Eric. You do this, I let you do this, you become a parent. There’s no way back from that.”
“Good,” I say, leaning forward again. “I’m not playing here, Amanda. I’m deadly serious.”
She laughs, almost in disbelief. “This is insane.”
“Look.” I sigh, frustrated. “This is really fucking sane to me. This is my choice, if you’ll take me.”
She watches me, eyes narrowing just slightly, measuring the truth in my words. “Don’t get me wrong, Eric,” she says carefully. “I’m not trying to throw it back at you, but… you don’t have the best track record with me. You retreat when things get rough. And you leave wreckage behind.”
Her words slice deep, but I don’t flinch. “Amanda,” I say, my voice quiet yet unshaking. “Give me some fucking credit for the growth I’ve done the last three years.”
Her eyes search mine, wide and unsure, as if she’s trying to see who I’ve become. Like she wants to believe I mean it, but doesn’t know if she should.
“How would it even work?”
I smile. I’m not backing out. Not from her. Not from this baby. Not from the terrifying hope of becoming something more than the sum of everything I’ve ruined.
“We’ll do what we’ve always done,” I say. “Play it day by day. Find the boundaries as we go. Redraw the lines when we need to.” And this time, I won’t fuck it up.
“And we’ll never talk about them?” There’s a playful grin on her face.
“And we’ll never fucking talk about them.” The tension dissipates as we laugh. “Also,” I add, “Imagine how crazy this is going to drive Daray. When word gets to him we’re having a baby.”
“You certainly talk a good game. That might be the best reason yet…”
“I’m serious, Amanda. I want this. With you and this baby.”
There’s no immediate response after that. She doesn’t nod. But she doesn’t leave or curse at me either. I bask in the silence and savor its possibilities. In want. In hope.
“Well, I need to think about it.” Her smile mirrors mine. “In the meantime,” she adds, “I need a favor.”
I nod.
“I need to get my crap out of Daray’s apartment. Help me?”
It builds between us; a tenuous understanding of what’s coming. As if we’re on the edge of something wild, and for once, maybe we’re stepping into it together.