Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98321 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I held up both hands. “I’ll take all the blame. I’ll leave you.”
“But I must have done something to make you leave. I’m the asshole in all your ideas,” he complained. “No. If we do this, it would have to be an amicable parting. No one gets the blame.”
“Okay, fine. We’d split up as friends.”
“We’re not even friends right now.”
I tossed a hand up. “So we’ll split up as non-friends! However you want to end things, Enzo, I’ll agree to it. As long as I leave with the baby.”
Enzo sat up taller. “That’s the other thing. I’m supposed to just father this baby and never see it again?”
“I never said that. You can see him or her whenever you’d like. I won’t move away or anything. I want to live near my family—that’s why I moved back to Bellamy Creek in the first place.”
“So I’d be like . . . Weekend Dad or something?” He squinted and gazed off into the distance, like he was trying to picture it.
“If you want.”
After a solid thirty seconds of staring into the future, he shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem right to do to a kid.”
“Enzo.” I reached across the table and put a hand on his, causing him to look down in surprise. “I’ve been thinking about having a baby on my own for a couple years now. I’ve researched fertility clinics, looked over donor profiles, talked with my family and my therapist.”
“What did they say?”
“My therapist understands. My family does not.” I pressed my lips together. “They’re totally against it. They cannot imagine why I’d want to get pregnant with a stranger’s baby or raise a child on my own. But they’re Catholic and old-fashioned, and they want for me what they had for themselves, and it’s just not going to happen—not in time for me to have a baby, anyway. I know I could always adopt, and I absolutely would, although I think it’s more difficult for an unmarried woman to adopt than for a couple. I admit, I haven’t done all the research. Because I really would like to experience being pregnant and giving birth if I can. I know I’ll be a good mom.”
Enzo’s eyes were on our hands. He swallowed.
“You cannot imagine the things people say to me,” I told him, a lump trying to form in my throat.
He looked up. “Like what?”
“Like, ‘At your age, you should lower your standards and just find a man willing to commit.’ Or ‘You may have to settle down with a man who already has kids, if you really want them.’ Or ‘You’re a beautiful woman. It can’t be that hard to get knocked up.’”
“Someone said that to you?” Enzo appeared appropriately horrified.
“Yes. People say that shit to women all the time.”
“Fuck.” He shook his head, like he had no idea what jerks people could be.
But this was no time for a lesson on how society treats women and their bodies.
“You’re probably wondering, ‘Why me?’” I went on.
His expression morphed into something more familiar—three parts cocky, one part amused. “Not really.”
Laughing, I took my hand back. “Well, I’ll tell you anyway.”
“Please do.” He sipped his bourbon, knowing he’d enjoy this.
“I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but we go back a long way, and that means something to me. Our families go back a long way. There’s trust and loyalty and respect. There’s a history of . . . of showing up for each other. And I was just thinking, even with our somewhat rocky past, that we’d show up for each other. Wouldn’t we?”
He took a drink and swirled what was left in the glass. “Nothing means more to me than family. That’s true.”
“I think beneath it all, we share the same traditional family values—albeit with some modern adjustments,” I said. “I don’t think a woman should have to be married to have a baby, and you don’t think a man should have to be married to inherit the family business.”
Enzo thought for a moment. “But I believe in honesty too, and this plan of yours involves lying to our families and friends. And my closest friends are family to me.”
“I know, and I don’t love that part of it. But I do like that about you,” I added quickly, “the fact that you’d hesitate before deceiving the people you love. It’s part of what makes me want you to be the father of my baby, despite your enormously inflated ego. Deep down, like way deep, buried beneath layer upon layer of vanity, pride, and self-absorption—”
“Okay, okay.” He stopped me with a hand. “Enough.”
I smiled and went on. “Deep down, I do believe you are a decent man. Honorable. Trustworthy. Protective of those you care about.”
“Don’t forget about my face,” he said, giving off that Enzo Moretti heat that had probably melted more panties than I’d ever owned.