by A. M. Wilson
This, ladies (and gentlemen), is why it’s imperative to keep an established friend zone and not cross those lines. I repeat, Do Not Cross Lines.
Sweltering, I throw my blankets off my lap for what feels like the umpteenth time and check the time. Two hours ticked by since he left and still nothing.
A pounding comes from my front door, and I race to it in a panic. Images of Cami telling me Nathan wrapped his truck around a tree flit mockingly around my head. I yank the door open without a care to my appearance and stop short to find the man I’ve been fretting about stationary on my doorstep.
His forearm braces against the doorjamb, and his head rests against it. Silence stretches from us both. He drops the arm heavily as though he can’t support it any longer.
Powerful legs stalk me and stop within arm’s reach. Without a spoken word, he envelops me in his sturdy arms and cocoons me against his chest. The warmth from him seeps inside me, filling crevasses and tucking itself within my bones. I breathe him in, that woodsy warm scent of his infiltrating my senses, and burrow deeper when he releases a shuddering breath.
Fear lives in us both as an insidious beast, stealing courage and planting doubt.
His palm cradles my head, holding me close and stroking at the same time. His heartbeat races beneath my ear like a metronome set to allegretto, and I wish I could take away whatever he feels at this moment.
I don’t have to wait long. He gives it to me, filleting me open with each word out of his mouth.
“Janessa was diagnosed with cancer before we could even begin trying, and then she died. We didn’t even get the chance to have a conversation about it. Right now, I don’t know how to come to terms with the fact I’m going to be a father, but the baby doesn’t belong to my wife. I’m so sorry, Kiersten. I know this hurts you, but I never pictured myself having a baby with another woman. I’m going to need some time.”
I’m powerless to halt the uncontrolled tears that stream over my lids and roll down my cheeks. My heart bleeds for him, for the pain of losing the love of his life, for this path we’ve found ourselves on that very well could be the end of our friendship. It also aches for the implication beneath the words. I may mean more to him down the road, but I’ll never be to him what Janessa is.
That doesn’t matter right now, though, does it? What matters is giving him what he needs. He’s asked for more time, and it’s within my power to grant it.
He holds me tighter, simultaneously giving me strength while leeching hope away.
I turn my face to the side so I can speak unmuffled by his chest. “I’m not in a rush, and I’m not going anywhere. Just please…” A rogue tear flows down the river on my cheek. “Let me know when you’re ready, okay?”
The pained expression on his face when confronted with my tears reveals he doesn’t want to hurt me. It’s marginally easier to give him some grace. He’s human, after all, and already experienced one of the most painful losses we as humans can ever experience. The least I can do at this moment is give him what he asks for and hope he heals enough to be an active participant in our baby’s life.
Nathan grasps my cheek and swipes his thumb beneath my eye, the rough texture of his skin grounding me. I cradle his hand with mine against my face. Giving it a squeeze, I let go. A single step out of his arms signals to him that he’s free to leave.
I hope he reads in my eyes that I’m going to be just fine. I have friends here and family to get involved. I’ll sleep much better at night knowing the truth is out in the open and the next move is his.
That doesn’t mean I don’t watch him walk out my front door for the second time today or sit by my window to see him drive off.
It means now that I’m alone, I let the tears fall completely. And once I’m done, I dry my face and take a shower, clean up myself and my space, and I call my other best friend over to pull me from my funk and keep me company.
I might pride myself on being strong, but strength doesn’t mean I have to go at this alone.
“You are a cruel human,” I grouse. Cami giggles at my forlorn gaze directed at her bottle of champagne.
“Who brings over a bottle of alcohol to celebrate a pregnancy? The guest of honor can’t even drink.” I curl the ends of my blanket tighter around my chest as I inject even more heat into my glare.
“Loads of people, that’s who. I didn’t get to celebrate my own pregnancy, so we’re doing this. I’m going to throw you a baby shower—Oh!” She leans over and tugs my arm. “We’re going to do one of those gender reveal parties!”
“Do you mean those tacky slogans like ‘Buck or Doe, We want to know’ because if so, the answer is … hell no.”
She snorts. “Not quite. We’ll keep it classy. I’ll buy some confetti cannons and order a special cake with pink or blue frosting.”
“I also don’t want any sort of cannons. Do you know how many people are injured at these parties? People have actually died trying to be creative. I’ll just find out at the ultrasound or, I don’t know, when the kid is born.”
Her scowl conveys upset. Either I’m ruining her grand plans or I said something socially unacceptable. At this juncture, it could be either, and I’m prone to both. My words reflect my sour mood.
“I hope I don’t have to tell you this more than once, but you cannot refer to your baby as the kid.”
“And so it begins.” My eyes roll without heat.
Cami takes a sip of her drink and glares over the rim of my glass. Not like I’ll be using it for the next nine months or so.
“What?”
“The mom shaming. Who cares if I want to call my kid ‘the kid’? It doesn’t even have ears yet. Or maybe it does, I don’t know. I haven’t read any baby books.” I flutter my hand between us. “Doesn’t matter. The point is, I’m not going to ruin it from the womb because it doesn’t have cognitive abilities yet.”
She chugs the rest of her glass, and I’d laugh if I wasn’t so grouchy. My mood is in the toilet already, and I’m just at the start of this thing. This will be a hell of a long year.
“I’m not shaming you. I was trying to fill you in on some of the mom etiquette, but you’re absolutely right. You are who you are and always have been. Unapologetically Kiersten. Just do me a favor and promise not to join any mommy groups on social media.” She grimaces. “I don’t think they’ll appreciate your self-assuredness as much as I do.”
Halfway through her speech, I get up to retrieve a glass of water. Watching her chug champagne made me thirsty. The real reason is my eyes are watering, and that is just unacceptable.
I set my glass beside hers on my coffee table when I return.
“If I can handle being around Mimi for holiday dinners and her disapproval of literally every choice I’ve ever made, I think I can handle a group of internet moms. Speaking of Mimi, I need to tell my family. I’m thinking I should make a trip over Labor Day weekend instead of announcing it over the phone.”
Cami opens her mouth to respond as a chorus of knocks sound on my front door for the third time today.
“Uh-oh,” she says in place of her interrupted sentence.
“I think I know who that is. The question is why?” I toss my blanket back on the couch and answer the door.
“Nathan, hey. Come in.”
His mood has turned one-eighty from earlier and not in a good way. It precedes him into the house like a dark, insidious force. As I shut the door behind us, I brace for things to get ugly.
“Cami’s here,” I warn, in order to help him save face by not embarrassing himself in front of his friend.
He jolts, and his spine straightens. “Hey,” he grunts.
She’s up and moving around, returning her glass to the kitchen and gathering her things.
“I’ll get out of here. I was just giving my congratulations.” Her smile is tentative. “Unless you’d like me to stay?”
God, I could kiss her for being so supportive. This isn’t her place, and if Nathan needs to say something, he
deserves to have that privacy.
“Thank you, but we’re good.”
Her attention swings to Nathan, the question not solely for me. She’s worried about her other friend too. “Nathan?”
Her voice is like a trip wire, and he releases a heavy sigh. “I’m good, Cam. See you later, yeah?”
She hugs him quick and squeezes my hand as she passes. “I’ll see you both later. Love you guys!” she bellows on her way out. The clank of the door closing sounds like a blown transformer in the tense silence.
I’m too restless to resume my seat on the couch and pacing makes me look like a mental patient. “Can I get you something to drink?” I ask if nothing more than for something to do.
“No.” His reply is curt.
“Well, can you spit out why you’re here because I thought we said all we needed to say earlier, so I’m confused why you came back.”
“You’re angry with me? Are you being serious?”
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling exposed. A knot forms beneath my rib cage. “Yes, I’m serious right now. You asked for time, and I’m willing to give it.”
“I was in shock. Still am, frankly. And I do still need time. But I sat on my couch in an empty house for a few hours and realized I had a few more questions I need answered in order to process all this.”
“Get in line, buddy.” I huff under my breath. “You could have called.”
“I’d rather see your face.”
“Why? Do you think I have something to hide?”
He looks at me beneath raised brows, which does nothing to take away how hot he is. Except now he’s angry hot instead of just regular hot. The thought of angry makeup sex turns me on. Stop it right now!
“How sure are you that the baby is mine?”
The question thoroughly douses my libido in a way I don’t know if it’ll ever turn on for this man again. “What did you just say to me?” I grit through clenched teeth.
Nathan raises his palms to me. “I’m not taking pot shots here. That’s not the kind of guy I am.”
“Honestly, I’m not sure I know what kind of guy you are anymore with a question like that.”
His arms drift limply to his side, and he rolls his head back with a loud groan. “Oh, come on. We all know you fall into bed with whoever it is you’re feeling at the time, and I’ve not once judged you for it. But as the supposed father of your baby, I have a right to know if there are any other potential donors!”
“No, you actually don’t.” I blink rapidly to hide the wateriness of my eyes. My heart splits down the middle with the implications behind his words. I’d expect the question if he had been only a one-night conquest, but this is Nathan. He’s been one of my best friends for a decade, and he should know me better than this. Or I assumed he did.
“If you think I’d call you over to tell you that you’re about to be a father if there were other possibilities, then you don’t know me at all.”
“Kiersten—” He takes a step forward that I match with a step back. I hold up my palm to ward him off.
“No. I think I need some time here too. In case you forgot, this was absolutely a shock to me as well. I didn’t plan for you to knock me up.”
Nathan scrubs his hand over his tired face. “I’m sorry. This isn’t how I planned to have this conversation.”
“Yeah, well, me neither. Any other burning questions before you go? I’d hate for you to have to come over again so soon.” The bite in my tone causes him to flinch.
“No, other than asking how sure you are.”
“About what?”
He waves his hand between us. “This. The pregnancy.”
The defeat drains me to my bones. Either that or early pregnancy is as miserable as they say. I feel like I could sleep for a week straight.
“I took an at home test, so I guess, like eighty percent sure? I’ll let you know as soon as I set up an appointment with my OB, but it could be a few weeks. As for the baby, I’m keeping it. I’m sorry, but that’s not up for debate.”
The steam immediately leaves his face, and it falls as if I slapped him. “I never… I didn’t mean that. I mean, the choice is yours, of course, and I’d be willing to talk through any of it, but I will back you up and support your decision.”
“Good,” I snap, less ready than he is to give up my ire. “Because I can do this without you. Don’t ever forget that.”
Nathan swallows visibly hard and nods, and my guilt swells for chastising him. After the roller coaster of emotions today, not to mention the hormones surging through me, I’m all rage-y and out of control.
As I fight to contain the tremble in my hands, Nathan steps forward and wraps me in an impossibly tight hug. I didn’t realize until that moment how much I needed the connection. I bury my face into his warm, broad chest for the second time today and breathe deep.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” I mumble.
His arms tighten around me. “I don’t either. We’ll figure this out one way or another.”
I check my face for lingering wetness, tired of the nonstop onslaught of tears. Squaring my shoulders, I come to a decision. Time will tell if it’s the right one, but it’s what I need right now.
“I know we’re both going to do the best we can because that’s who we are as people. But before we get too far into this, I want you to know that while I think you’re going to make a great dad, I don’t want to date you.” I shrug, a little embarrassed for the way I put it all out there.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re off the hook.” I retreat to the couch, tired of all the standing, and ignore the way flames lick my cheeks under his intense stare.
His skilled tongue swipes across pink lips and his brow furrows. “I’m not following.”
“You.” I point at him. “And me.” I point at myself. “Are not happening.” Leaning back, I cross my arms over my chest. “Unless there’s fucking. I’m open to that.”
“Are you trying to give me the ‘we’re just friends’ speech?”
“Yes!” I thrust my arms into the air. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to say.”
Nathan rolls his lips between his teeth and appears to be restraining a laugh. “Should I be feeling rejected right now because I’m not going to lie, I sort of do.”
After what feels like days in darkness, I chuckle. “It’s not you, it’s me?”
“Fuck.”
Outright laughter pours from us both. Our dark conversation transforms into a lighter one.
“I’m serious. You and I are great friends and have been for a long time. Now we’re navigating this new situation together, so why make it more complicated by throwing in a relationship on top of that? I mean, how am I supposed to be sexy for you if I gain weight on the weekly, eat whatever is put in front of me, and lose the ability to even put on clean clothes?”
“I think you’re confusing being pregnant with something else entirely. Like dementia.”
“I’m not far off. What, you don’t agree with me?”
He crosses the room and sits on the coffee table across from me. The wood creaks ominously beneath him. A bold move, seeing as that table is about as old as my mother.
“I feel like this is a trap.”
I lightly tap his arm. “It’s not.”
“Okay, so without sounding like I’m only in it for the potential sex, I think you may have a point.”
I thrust my pointer finger in his face. “Ha! Tricked you!”
He wraps my finger in his palm and tugs me to him. I don’t miss the way his eyes drop to my mouth as I near, and the action sends butterfly wings flapping in my stomach. Either that or the baby is already giving me gas.
“Or maybe I am only in it for the potential sex. I hear pregnant women get pretty horny.”
My ears perk up, and he has my full attention. I close my eyes and lick those lips that hold his focus. “Where’d you hear that?”
He chews his bottom lip to refrain from laughing. “I
have no idea.”
“There may be some perks to this after all.”
“You mean besides the part where you get to partake in one of the greatest joys of human existence and become a parent?”
“Yeah, besides that. I was thinking along the lines of how I’m about to tear apart my body and push a large object out of a small part of my anatomy and potentially alter its appearance forever, so a little extra sexual energy is, well, a perk.”
“You are one of a kind.” Nathan leans forward, palms the back of my head like a basketball, and yanks me closer to deliver a swift kiss to my forehead.
The move sends chills skittering across my skin that I try to hide by giving a sudden stretch. I move a little too quick and clock him right beneath his chin.
“Shit!” He relinquishes his hold to cradle the injury.
“Oh crap, sorry! Let me grab you some ice!” I jump to my feet. The room spins, more than likely from dehydration and remnants of morning sickness over the past few days. I teeter and plunge off balance into Nathan.
The extra weight proves to be too much for the ancient table. With a resounding crack, the leg gives out, and we topple to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs and curses. An elbow impacts my cheek, and my knee connects with his manhood. Nathan releases a pained grunt.
He lies motionless on his back on my living room carpet with a forearm thrown across his face and my body draped across his chest. I don’t want to move for fear of maiming him again.
“Well, if you’re worried about the remaining potency of your swimmers, I already have you covered.”
He lifts his elbow off his eyes to glare at me and then drops it back down.
“Should I still get the ice?”
He pulls his other arm off the floor and holds up two fingers. “Make it two,” he grunts. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. Using a bit more care, I extricate my limbs from his and fill some baggies with ice from the freezer.
