Luke and I fall into a routine after the “Trisha Incident,” as I like to call it. I never really see her, although Luke does have late nights often and sometimes doesn’t come home until morning. I’m not naïve enough to wonder where he goes, or what he’s doing.

I haven’t really started looking for a job yet because morning sickness has kicked my ass. I’ve been living on the couch, nibbling saltine crackers and drinking ginger ale for the past six weeks. Thankfully, it’s finally starting to get better, and I should be able to start looking for a job in the next couple of weeks.

Luke and I are sitting on the couch watching Seinfeld reruns before bed. My feet are in his lap while he’s busy texting Trisha. Or I assume that’s what he’s doing. He keeps shifting in his seat and sneaking glances at me. He’s not very subtle.

Are they talking about me?

“Your appointment is tomorrow, right?” he asks casually, while looking at his phone.

I can feel my forehead crease as I hesitantly reply, “Yes?”

Even though I answer, it’s stated like a question. I have no idea where he’s going with this.

“Mind if I join you?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I was just wondering if you’d like some company.” He’s still looking at his phone like he’s afraid of my answer.

"The baby’s not yours so why do you care?" I don’t mean it to come out so sharp, I’m just genuinely curious as to why he insists on being part of this pregnancy. And I may or may not be a little hormonal.

He finally looks up at me with his piercing green eyes. I can feel him looking deep inside me as if he’s seeing past my armor and knows how hard it is to go through this pregnancy alone. He looks so serious, and I can see he’s trying to find the right words to answer my overly blunt question.

After a few minutes, he finally replies.

"It doesn't matter if it's mine, Liv, the baby’s yours. He, or she, is a part of you, and because of that one simple fact, I will care for both of you for as long as you need me."

His declaration stuns me into silence, and before I can really contemplate his answer, he changes the subject to a safer topic. He uses this tactic a lot. Whenever things start to get too deep or serious, he always finds a way to bring us back to our comfort zones and “safe” topics.

“So, what is the pregnant woman craving today?” he asks with a knowing smile, putting his phone down and massaging my feet.

I won’t deny that I’m definitely pickier about what I want to eat now that I have a bun in the oven. He’s had to learn the hard way that I change my mind constantly about what I’m in the mood for.

I’ve even managed to branch out with my eating habits a bit lately. They’re pretty random, though. Hamburger with extra pickles? Salt and vinegar chips with ranch? Hot chocolate with sprinkles? Yup.

Poor Luke. He’s had a hell of a time dealing with these cravings, but it’s definitely better than listening to me puke multiple times a day, so he’s not complaining.

“A grilled cheese and…” I pause, considering my options, “some scalding hot chocolate pudding.”

He throws his head back, laughing and shaking his head at my ludicrous request.

“Scalding hot, huh? Coming right up.”

Luke gently places my feet on the couch as he stands and heads toward the kitchen, his charcoal sweats riding low on his hips.

“So…how’s Trisha?” I ask, as I see his phone light up with her name.

He looks over at me, confused. “Fine, I guess. Why?”

“I dunno,” I say, trying to sound inconspicuous. “I know I embarrassed you and all, but you haven’t brought her around since the incident.” I punctuate the last two words and make finger air quotes.

He smiles shyly and rubs his hand over his hair, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, I figured you’d want privacy.” He shrugs.

Now I’m the one confused.

“Privacy? What are you talking about? This is your apartment. Did she come over here before I moved in?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then she should still be able to come over, Luke. Seriously. I know what boys and girls do at night. You shouldn’t have to hide that from me. I get it. Hell, I’m pregnant remember? You shouldn’t have to rearrange your entire life just because you decided to take in a charity case,” I say, exasperated, pointing to my chest.

“You’re not a charity case,” he replies sternly. I can see his fisted hands on the granite counter.

He and I have had this argument multiple times. He refuses to let me help with the rent and even gets grouchy when I insist on cleaning or doing his laundry. I figure it’s the least I can do. He’s taken me in, pays for everything, and he even offered to go to my doctor’s appointment with me.

He shouldn’t have to give up his, ahem… extra-curricular activities, too. I mean, I know he’s not giving those up, but it must be exhausting never being home and feeling like you have to tiptoe around your roommate all the time.

I jump onto my knees and lean over the back of the couch, resting my elbows on the edge. “Luke. Invite her over. I’m sure when you insist on being at her place all the time, it doesn’t exactly give her warm fuzzies about you having a girl roommate. Maybe if she sees us together a little more, and makes her presence more known, she won’t be so nervous or whatever,” I ramble, trying to be diplomatic.

I don’t know that she’s nervous, but I have heard a few heated conversations when he’s been on the phone. I can definitely put two and two together.

Luke clears his throat, nods, and then starts pulling out the ingredients for my grilled cheese.

I know I’m right. I just don’t want him to regret asking me to stay with him. I have nowhere else to go, and I want to be as accommodating as possible. I owe him a lot, and if helping his relationship with Trisha makes his life easier, then it’s the least I can do.