I’m so nervous I feel like I’m about to face the firing squad. I rub the side of my face, frowning. I should have shaved this morning. I came here straight from the airport. I thought about going to Faith’s looney-tunes aunt first, but sadly… this seemed the safer of the two choices.

And if I’m completely honest, I wanted to see Faith again. I haven’t laid eyes on her since that day at the airport and I’ve found the strangest thing happened.

I missed her.

I missed her after she left me with the annulment papers, but she made her choice and it pissed me off at the time, but I decided to move forward. I did that and when it got time to marry Jacey…

I was done. I was going through with the plan, despite knowing I shouldn’t. I was going through with the plan at Jacey’s urgings… at Cora’s urgings. I was going through with the plan because I felt lost and the promise of the general manager position might fill that void. But when it came up to that moment, I couldn’t do it. Was going to call it off, and then Faith showed.

That was not how I wanted her to see me again. That’s all I processed. I didn’t want Faith to see me being a chump, making chump moves—because that’s all that was. A play for a fucking job, doing what I was doing—even with Jacey knowing my motives and her having some of her own—was a chump-ass move and that’s what Faith saw.

Then came her news.

Pregnant.

I haven’t begun to process that. I’m not sure I know how right now. What I do know is I need to make sure Faith is taken care of—preferably by me, but at least so that I’m close enough to know she’s okay.

I had a grand scheme to marry a woman I did not know, and barely spoke to. A scheme that came into play at a party when she approached me. I have no grand scheme on what to do with Faith. A woman I know, mostly like—except when I want to throttle her—and a woman who is having my baby.

If I was going to have a plan, right now would sure as hell be the correct time to have it. And I have…

Absolutely nothing.

My attention is brought back to the door; I am just about to knock again when the curtain covering the glass panels move. Faith’s eyes find mine and she stares at me for a moment. Somewhere in the back of my mind I make a note to have her front door changed. Half the door is made up of six small glass panels which have been sectioned off in squares by trim. It’s cute and matches the feel of the house, but glass breaks and it does that easily. That leaves Faith vulnerable… Faith and my child.

Her face tightens, and her eyes dull. She’s not happy to see me. I didn’t expect she would be, but I had hoped.

“Let me in,” I tell her, feeling like an ass, but apparently not able to articulate words that might soften her toward me. Then again, I’m not sure words are invented that might make Faith like me right now.

“What are you doing here, Titan?” she asks, finally opening the door.

I take a minute to just look at her. Faith’s blond hair is rumpled from sleep and it’s all clipped to the top of her head. She has circles, dark ones, and I don’t like them. She’s way too pale. Guilt flares up strong inside of me. I should have been here sooner to watch over her. I force myself to look away from her face. My gaze travels to the rest of her body and it’s been a while. I could be mistaken, but I think she’s lost weight. Faith’s pregnant, she shouldn’t be losing weight. I take in the faded blue robe she’s wearing that is cinched at the waist. A waist which is not swollen with a child, but I know it’s coming. Soon her flat stomach will be swollen with my child and something twists inside of me at the knowledge. I never thought about being a father, not sure I ever wanted to be.

Looking at Faith’s stomach right now, I’m bombarded with emotions and questions. I’m not ready to sift through them just yet.

“Hi, Faith.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks again.

“I was hoping we could talk.” That definitely sounds lame. What the fuck has happened to me? Apparently finding out I’m going to be a father has disconnected my brain.

“I don’t think we have much to say to each other. At least not until the baby gets here.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Ask me if I care what you think,” she responds, some of the fire in her eyes returning. I don’t really want her angry at me, but at least she’s showing some emotion and for some reason that makes me feel better.

“Will you let me in, please? We’ll talk. We need to talk—if not for us, for the life you’re carrying.”

I watch as her hand travels to her stomach. She rubs it gently and my gut tightens. A slow burning heat spreads through my body. She’s thinking of the baby… of our baby… and it’s clear that she cares for the child already. I don’t know why that surprises me, but fuck if it doesn’t and I can’t say I don’t like it.

I do. I like the fact that she’s pregnant with my child and there’s a part of her happy about it. I like it a fuck of a lot.

Maybe because I feel the same…

Shit.