CHAPTER EIGHT

Guilt was wrapped around my throat like a noose, and sitting across from Lydia only contributed to it. I felt guilty that I still wanted to see her. I felt guilty that I hadn’t told her about Kylie. I felt guilty that Kylie was in the hospital hooked to an IV while I was eating pasta with someone else. There just wasn’t any way not to feel like shit unless I came clean with Lydia and let it be.

It wasn’t a nice restaurant, just a hole-in-wall fake Italian place, and it was appropriately dim, so hopefully if she threw a fork or something at me the other diners wouldn’t notice.

Lydia paused in the middle of gushing about her PhD advisor and I dove in. “So, uh, I got an e-mail from this girl I was involved with.” That was a polite way to put it.

She blinked, her bangs too long, like she had forgotten to trim them. Or brush them. Sometimes I thought Lydia’s face and her body were lost in a sea of dark hair and denim. “Okay.”

“It turns out she’s pregnant and it’s mine.” That wasn’t so hard. I was getting used to the idea and the words came out easily, and maybe even with just a hint of pride. “I thought you should know because I plan to be involved. With the baby. Not the mother.”

There was a pause then she said without hesitation, “Thanks for letting me know. I don’t think we should each other again, then.”

I was a little stunned. She hadn’t even taken thirty seconds to think it over. “Just like that? Why?”

Lydia gave me the look that indicated I was being what women deem an idiot man. “Darwin, the answer is obvious. Why the hell would I want to be involved with a guy who has a baby mama? That is drama I have never sought and frankly, despise. Nor do I have any interest in listening to you talk about your baby. Or worse, be with you when you have the baby. I don’t like kids.”

As long as she was sure about it, damn. She made it sound like I had adopted a boa constrictor. Her voice was laced with disgust.

I tried to explain. “I wouldn’t expect you to be involved in any way. It’s my responsibility.”

“We’ve only been out a few times. I don’t have strong enough feelings for you to risk that.”

It was a good thing my feelings toward her were mostly those of intellectual curiosity, because I decided I didn’t like Lydia. At all. “I see.”

“I also think you’re being naïve if you think that you and the mother can just be friendly without it either turning into you two duking it out in court or being involved with each other emotionally and/or physically.”

Stunned, I just stared at her. “Thanks for your honest opinion. I guess.”

“I’ve offended you.”

“A little.” It was insulting that she didn’t think I was capable of having a respectful friendship with Kylie for the benefit of our child.

“Come on, you know I’m right. We’re not hardwired to raise children in a casually friendly co-parenting arrangement. We’re predisposed to either abandon our offspring or protect them to the death. And if it’s the latter, either mothers do it solo in the animal kingdom or with a mate.”

Why did she have to sound so much like a scientist? It was annoying as hell.

“Except we’re not in the animal kingdom. We’re in the Gaslight district of Cincinnati.” And I was thinking that I couldn’t choke down the rest of my pasta. I gestured for the waiter. “Can I get a to-go box?”

“Are we leaving?” Lydia asked.

“I think so,” I told her. “I don’t see any point in staying.” She had basically called me a delusional idiot. I wasn’t having fun. The chime on my phone dinged on the table and I fought the urge to look at the screen and lost. It was Kylie texting me.

Going home tonight, yay!

I immediately texted back: That’s great! Do you need a ride?

No, Rory and her bf are on it. I’m staying at their place for a few days.

Okay, ttys.

Frowning, I thought maybe I should have offered her a place to stay. She shouldn’t be alone after what had happened and I should have thought of that before her friends had to offer. Fail.

“Baby mama?” Lydia asked.

Busted.

“I told you it’s impossible to stay detached,” she said, smugly. “Your expression is very revealing.”

“Are you a psychology or a physics PhD?” I asked, now thoroughly annoyed. “You can’t ‘read’ my face.” Yeah, I was seriously annoyed when I started using fucking air quotes.

Lydia just rolled her eyes. “Here’s a little advice. Just dive in, Darwin, and try to make it work. The sooner you do, the sooner it will crash and burn, and you can get back to what matters—your research.”

Why in the hell had I ever thought I liked her? Talk about misjudging someone. Throwing enough money down on the table to cover the whole bill, I stood up. “I say you put that on a greeting card, Lydia. Forget physics. You’re a natural born romantic.”

“You don’t want to hear my opinions on romance.”

“You’re right. I don’t, actually.”

I had never considered myself a romantic but I liked to think I wasn’t cold-hearted either. There were certain emotions that, while they could technically be explained by science, were too intimate to force into a formula.

It didn’t require or benefit from dissection.

Romance was one of those.

*   *   *

By the time I got to the top of the stairs and into Rory’s, I was exhausted and gasping for breath. “Oh my God, it’s like I’m ninety. This blows.”

“You’re malnourished. Once you start eating solids again, you’ll have more energy.”

In the hospital I had stuck to Jell-O, Popsicles, and crackers. They were the only things that didn’t make me sick. I had a list of suggested bland foods in my purse from the discharge papers, but right now all I wanted to do was collapse on the couch.

“It’s bizarre how pregnancy kicks some women’s asses,” Tyler commented as he opened the door.

The steep flight of stairs to the living room mocked me.

“Damn it, I still have one more flight of stairs to go. Let me sit down a minute.” I sat down on the first step and took a deep breath. I did feel so much better than I had when Jonathon had found me in my apartment. But that didn’t mean I felt great.

“I’m not used to seeing you like this,” Tyler mused. “I never thought I’d say this, but I miss your motormouth.”

I flipped him off.

He laughed. “That’s better.”

Heaving myself up with the handrail, I trudged the rest of the way up the stairs and sank down onto the couch. “Ah, that feels good.”

“Can I get you anything?” Rory asked. “You should keep up with your fluid intake.”

I thought about it. “Can I have a blanket?”

Tyler shook his head. “The way your brain works fascinates me.”

“What?” I laughed. “She asked me if I needed anything.”

“She meant a drink.”

“I don’t want a drink, I want a blanket.”

“I’ll tell you what. How about I get you a blanket and a drink?” he asked.

“Sure.”

He went back downstairs and Rory sat on the coffee table facing me. “Is there anything else you need? Ignore Ty. You’re not limited to beverages only.”

I bent over and tried to take my snowy boots off. “I should have taken these off downstairs. But I’m so out of it, I didn’t think about it. But no, I’m fine.”

“It’s hard to believe it’s January, isn’t it?” she asked, knit cap still on her head, a thick oatmeal-colored sweater on under her winter coat. “This time last year I was a mess. Tyler and I were split up.”

I remembered. “It was really hard to watch you hurting like that.”

“That’s how we felt about you, after Nathan.”

“I know. But at least you and Tyler worked out.” I leaned back on the arm of the couch and sighed. The year before I had been blissfully in love with Nathan. Or the person I thought Nathan was. It had turned out I hadn’t known him at all. Of course, looking back now there were signs that I had chosen to ignore. His willingness to let Grant hang around even after he had pushed it too far with Rory and almost raped her. Nathan’s jealousy. His obsessive interest in porn. All those times when he pulled my hair in teasing, only it was just a little too hard. Individually, none of them seemed like that big of a deal, and even together I probably would have ignored them if it weren’t for the cheating. That wasn’t something I could ignore.

Nathan wasn’t a horrible guy. He just wasn’t a good guy either. Or at least not good for me. There were good parts to him. He was loyal to his friends, he had a great sense of humor, he was affectionate.

“A year ago Riley and Jessica weren’t together,” I said, thinking back again to all the changes. “Robin hadn’t met Phoenix, she hadn’t transferred yet.”

“My mother was alive,” Tyler said, coming back into the room and spreading a blanket over me.

“Thanks.” I reached out and squeezed his hand, feeling schmaltzy. “You’re a good man, Mann.”

“Thanks.” He ruffled my hair. “You’re not so bad yourself.” He unscrewed a Gatorade and set it on the coffee table next to me. “Now make sure you’re drinking that, Mommy, or I’ll chew your ass out.”

Mommy.

Goose bumps rose all over my skin and I felt tears well up in my eyes.

“Oh, shit. What did I say?” Tyler asked, looking contrite.

I just shook my head and cuddled under the blanket. “I’m fine. I’m going to take a nap, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure, no problem.”

They both moved off and went back downstairs to the kitchen and their bedroom, but I didn’t fall asleep. I did something really weird.

I texted Nathan.

I have no idea why I did it.

Maybe it was because everything was changing so fast.

Maybe it was because I wanted to remember when things were simple and I thought I’d had the answers.

Maybe because I missed having that total understanding of what you have with someone. That easy sense of knowing what you would do on Saturday night, knowing if you touched them or if you said certain things, that you could predict their response. While it hadn’t been perfect with Nathan, I’d known how each day would be, how he would be with me.

That didn’t exist for me now. Everything was new, uncertain, the feeling of walking on eggshells.

So I wrote something utterly pathetic.

Why did you cheat on me?

I instantly regretted it, the very second it was too late to take it back.

I lay on the couch, exhausted yet unable to sleep, tense over the answer he would give me, only to drift off to sleep an hour later with no answer whatsoever.

Which just made me feel worse.

*   *   *

I regretted my impulsive texting even more the next day.

Jonathon stopped by to pick up his iPad now that I had access to my laptop again and I invited him in, because it seemed totally wrong to just hand it to him over the doorjamb and wave goodbye after all he had done when I was in the hospital. Besides, I wanted him to hang around. I admit it.

“You look good,” he told me. “You feeling better?”

“I’m still exhausted, but I do feel better.” We climbed the stairs to the living room together. “I still look totally busted, but oh, well. I’m just glad it’s winter and I can get away with wearing ginormous clothes and hats.” I had tried to glam up before he came over but totally gave up after my shower. Cleanliness was all I could manage without needing a nap. I hadn’t even been able to blow-dry my hair because I couldn’t hold my arms up that long.

“You don’t look busted.”

“Yes, I do. I look completely wrecked, but thanks for being nice about it.” I smiled and sat down on the couch. “Sit down. How are you? It seems like we always talk about me. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay.” He sat down next to me and smiled.

Tucking my feet under my butt, I studied him. “You look tired, too. I guess you have a lot on your mind.”

“Just a little. I keep fluctuating between wanting to explore every little detail of pregnancy and iron out a concrete life plan for the next eighteen months, but then I think it’s impossible to plan every contingency and maybe I just need to let it ride for a while and see what happens. But then I think that’s stupid because then I won’t be prepared. Do you know what I mean?”

“Totally. I keep thinking that I need to figure out what I’m doing, where I’m going to live, how I’m going to have money, but all I can manage is making through one day at a time without throwing up or going all narcoleptic while I’m reading my material for class. But that will get better. I think. I hope.”

“It definitely will.”

I wondered what options he was contemplating. I knew that I was debating whether it was even possible for me to stay in Cincinnati or if I would have to go back to my parents temporarily. I didn’t want to have to do that, but financially it probably made more sense, plus I would have free babysitters I could trust. “So when are you supposed to finish up your masters degree?”

“May.”

“Oh, that’s good. Congrats. That’s a huge accomplishment. Are you going on for a PhD?”

“That’s the debate. I don’t think so. I was already on the fence about it, and now I think it would make more sense for me to get a job, and see how that goes for a few years. It will be easy to get a job because there is such a strong plastics and chemical industry here. I could make good money, which would then help you. I could probably give you at least a thousand a month. Would that be helpful?”

My mouth fell open. Like down into the cleavage. “That much? I wasn’t even expecting half that. I was actually thinking maybe I would have to go live with my parents to make it work. They live in Troy.”

“That’s over an hour away.” He didn’t look happy. “It would be hard for me to see the baby.”

“But if you can give me that much support, then I don’t have to move back. I can stay here. I might even move in here so that Rory and Tyler can help me out if I absolutely need it. Like the whole watch-the-sick-baby-while-I-run-to-the-store-and-get-baby-Tylenol kind of thing. And then you can see her whenever you want.”

I wasn’t sure why I always referred to the baby as “her.” But it just felt natural.

He nodded. “That would make me a lot happier. Okay, so I’ll start looking for a job. I’m confident I can get a lab job as a chemist. Done.”

I smiled, giddy with how rational we were with each other. We both wanted the same thing—what was best for the baby, and what was best for the baby was to have both parents in her life. “You feel marketable?”

“I feel in demand,” he said, giving me a teasing shrug. “Because, you know, who wouldn’t want me?”

I did. But I couldn’t say that. Or could I? My expression must have revealed something of what I was thinking because his smile fell off his face and his eyes darkened behind his glasses. I shifted, moving my legs back to the floor so that my body was closer to his. I dropped my gaze to his lips. Would he bolt if I kissed him? I willed him to kiss me so that I didn’t have to make that first move and risk rejection.

Fortunately, he did. Jonathon shifted on the couch and put his hand on the back of my head. “Do you want me?” he asked, lips very close to mine. “I want you, Kylie. I know it’s a bad idea, but I can’t help it. I want you so goddamn bad, I can already taste you.”

“I want you, too.” I put my hands on his chest and locked my fingers onto the fabric of his plaid shirt to draw him closer to me. “I think it’s okay, you know. I can’t get pregnant a second time.”

He was kissing my neck, his touch feathery and arousing. For the first time in three weeks I didn’t feel nauseous. “We don’t have to have sex,” he said. “I know you don’t feel good. I just want to touch you, hold you.”

What could possibly be hotter than that?

Jonathon kissed me softly, his lips lingering over mine in a kiss that was as sweet as it was passionate, before urging me onto my back. His hands slid under my sweatshirt and he cupped my breasts, which were straining against the fabric. “You already feel different. Your breasts are fuller.”

They were also more sensitive. I bit my lip when he brushed his thumb across my nipple.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

I nodded. More than good. It felt amazing. “Oh, God, Jonathon, do that again.”

“I feel so bad that you’ve been sick. I want you to feel good.”

“You make me feel good. Really good.” He did. His touch was gentle, skilled, and he was aware of every sound, every goose bump, every reaction I made.

I wanted to reach down, undo his pants, explore his naked body, but while I didn’t feel in danger of losing my paltry dinner on him, I had no strength to even unzip. I just lay there and let him do what he wanted, all of which made me feel warm and delicious, and happy with my body for the first time since early December. He had slipped my oversized pajama pants down and he was using his tongue on me, the rhythm steady and dedicated. He seemed determined to compensate me for the weeks of morning sickness. I wasn’t going to argue. I had been through hell, right? I was entitled to a little oral sex.

My eyes were closed and I dug my fingers into the softness of his hair, the shaggy top a good length to grip. It wasn’t even two minutes before I was having a lazy, expansive orgasm, crying out loudly.

He gave me a smug grin, his head still down south. “How was that?”

“I think I needed that, thank you.” My body felt more relaxed, languid.

Jonathon shifted to move up and he paused over my belly to skim his lips over the bare skin. It wasn’t sexual, but sweet. “Hi, Baby,” he said.

Yeah, that was my heart melting. When he moved up alongside me, giving me a soft kiss, I felt more than could possibly be wise. Like serious emotion. Beyond crush and deep into like territory.

But then I remembered something and I stopped him from kissing me again. I had a horrible and stinky rotten thought. “Aren’t you dating someone?”

Oh, God, it couldn’t be that Jonathon would cheat. It just couldn’t be. I would literally die and become a celibate man-hater if I had just become a party to hurting some other girl.

“No. She dumped me yesterday.”

“Oh.” That was good. That was a relief. Yet I wasn’t sure how I felt about it exactly. I mean, thank God, he wasn’t a cheater. But then what did that mean? Was he upset? Was I just a substitute for this magically delicious chick I could never compete with?

The doorbell downstairs rang. I wondered if I should pull my pants up. I heard Tyler open the door and oh, shit, that was Nathan’s voice. Yes, I needed to pull my pants up. I scrambled to get them on, shoving Jonathon out of the way. “That is my ex-boyfriend downstairs,” I said urgently. “Oh, shit, fuck, damn, I do not want to see him.”

“Do you want me to tell him to go away?” Jonathon asked, looking neutral. He sat up, but he made no move to either push up his glasses or take his hand off my leg.

“No, no, I’ll just go and see what he wants. Maybe he’s actually here to see Tyler.” Which would be one serious downside to living with Rory and Tyler that I hadn’t considered.

“Dude, you need to ask before you just charge up there and bug her,” Tyler said, sounding annoyed.

Then Nathan was at the top of the stairs, Tyler right behind him. “Sorry,” Tyler said. “Nathan can’t take a hint.”

Nathan’s face when he saw me with Jonathon was glorious. Not that I wanted to hurt him. Okay, I kind of did. Besides, it wasn’t like it could come anywhere close to what I had felt when I’d found those texts on Robin’s phone. That night was a blur of tears and horrific stabbing betrayal. Fury. Anguish.

Yeah. I didn’t feel bad about being seen with Jonathon months after Nathan had destroyed me.

“What the hell are you doing?” Nathan asked, glaring at me.

“What do you mean? What are you doing? Are you here to see Tyler?”

He stood there, hand going through his hair, expression still shocked as he took in how close Jonathon and I were sitting to each other. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jonathon.” He stood up and offered him his hand.

I was surprised, but Nathan actually took it and shook. “Nathan.”

Why were they shaking hands? Why was this happening? I actually felt a horrible sense of how far my life had spiraled out of control as they stood there, assessing each other. My past and my present eyeing each other, and ignoring me, I might add.

Finally Nathan glanced over at me. “Are you two . . .”

Yeah, no. I didn’t even know what Jonathon and I were doing. I wasn’t going to discuss it with the man who had begged blow jobs off my best friend. “Can I talk to you downstairs?” I asked Nathan, standing up myself.

Tyler was giving me a look that said he wasn’t down with any of this, but I tilted my head toward Jonathon so he would get a hint to keep him up here while I went downstairs with Douche Canoe.

I brushed past Nathan and stomped down the stairs, assuming he would follow me, my arms over my chest. My bra was unhooked from fooling around with Jonathon and I would really rather be continuing that than doing this.

“Why are you acting pissed?” he said from behind me. “You’re the one who texted me.”

Oh, great. I had no doubt Jonathon had just heard that. “I didn’t ask you to come over! I texted you because I’m stupid. I wanted answers you can’t give.”

“I already explained that to you. I did what I did because I was afraid I would lose you.”

Once in the kitchen, I rounded on Nathan. “That’s not an answer. That is the lamest justification I’ve ever heard. I’m sorry I texted you. I was feeling sorry for myself, but it won’t happen again.”

“Why, because now you have that guy?” He jerked his thumb toward the stairs. “Seriously, Kylie? He wears glasses.”

What the hell did that have to do with anything? Half of America was nearsighted. “So? He is about a thousand times smarter than you and as far as I can tell, he’s honest, which is not something you’re familiar with.”

“Are you trying to start a fight with me?”

“No. I’m not trying to do anything with you.” All my irritation disappeared and my stomach was starting to churn ominously. “Go home. I’m sorry I bothered you. It won’t happen again.”

“Are you having sex with him?”

“What are you, my dad? That’s none of your business!”

I tried to move past him but he actually reached out and grabbed my arm. “Just tell me. If you are, I’ll go away. If there is no chance for us, I’ll leave you alone.”

He’d promised before to leave me alone, many times, and it had never worked. But I had texted him. I was just as much to blame for continuing our pointless interactions. My anger thawed. I had loved him for a whole year. It was hard to look at him and feel nothing. “There is no chance. We can’t fix anything at this point.”

“Are you sure? You know we had something good. Before Robin threw herself at me.”

Wow. Way to take responsibility. I couldn’t do this anymore. I knew the best possible way to get rid of him. “I’m positive we can’t be together. Nathan, I’m pregnant. Jonathon is the father.”

His face froze. Then he shook his head. “You can’t be serious. You’re just saying that to fuck with me.”

“When have I ever just fucked with you?” I snapped, annoyed. “It’s true, I am pregnant. Now go home.” I opened the door to the hallway and stared him down.

His jaw worked but finally he moved, going through the door. “You’re a bitch,” he told me. “You did this on purpose to hurt me.”

Clearly. Because it made total sense to get pregnant just to piss him off. I rolled my eyes and slammed the door in his face.

When I got to the top of the stairs, still fuming, Tyler and Jonathon were hovering. Jonathon was pacing back and forth. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I told him about the baby. I know I shouldn’t have, but it seemed the best way to get him to leave me alone forever.”

Tyler shook his head. “Man, he has lost his mind the last six months. I don’t even know what is going on with him.”

“Is that what you want?” Jonathon asked. “For him to leave you alone?” His eyes were searching my face, like he could see something there that I didn’t feel.

“Yes. Why?” I wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking.

“Because don’t feel obligated to me if you want to be with him. I don’t have any claim over you.”

I sucked in a breath, I couldn’t help it. I didn’t speak for a second, letting my eyes express how I was feeling. Stake a claim, I wanted to tell him. Conquer me for king and country, damn it. Couldn’t he tell that’s what I wanted? Sure, I wanted to be independent and strong and smart and not jump into a relationship and complicate things. But at the same time, since almost the first minute I had met him I had felt ooey and gooey things for him, and I wanted him, in my bed, in my heart. I couldn’t help it. I could control it, I could be rational and hold him at arm’s length, but that didn’t stop me from wanting him to throw caution to the fucking wind and fall in love with me.

All I said was, “I don’t want to be with him. Ever. Trust me.”

Jonathon just nodded. “Okay. Just checking. I should head out.” He kissed my forehead. “Talk to you soon.”

A second later he was gone, like we hadn’t been in the middle of having sex fifteen minutes ago before Nathan’s interruption. I stood there, blinking. He’d actually forgotten his iPad. It was still sitting on the coffee table.

Tyler had a pained look on his face. “Well, that was awkward. I need a beer.”

“I need a lobotomy,” I told him, flinging myself down onto the couch.

Tyler laughed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let Nathan in. He caught me off guard.”

Waving my hand, I said, “Don’t worry about it. This is all idiotic. Where is Rory, by the way?”

“The animal shelter.”

“That’s what I need, a dog. They make more sense than men.”

“Don’t slam my gender because of one dickhead. I seriously am going down to get a beer. Do you want anything?”

“Ice cream.” The thought of its creamy coldness made my mouth water.

“We don’t have any ice cream.”

“Figures.”

“Do you want me to go get you some?”

I hugged the throw pillow and felt sorry for myself. “Thanks, but that’s okay.” It would make me feel even more of a loser to have to borrow my friend’s boyfriend to get me ice cream. Granted, Tyler had been my friend even before he had started dating Rory, but still. Talk about feeling pathetic when he took so much pity on me he would hoof it in a foot of snow in January to pacify me with Rocky Road.

“All right, I’ll be in my room lifting weights if you need anything.”

“I thought you were getting a beer.”

“I am. I’m going to drink a beer, smoke a cigarette, and lift weights.”

“Sounds healthy.”

“It’s a lifestyle, babe. Oh, and just an FYI, even though you’re sleeping on the couch, this isn’t a bedroom. There’s no door and sound carries, if you know what I’m saying.”

Excellent. So he had heard me having an orgasm. “Sorry.”

“Hey, pregnant chicks need love, too, but I don’t want to hear it.” He gave me a grin, then jogged down the stairs.

I stared at the ceiling, a blanket pulled up to my chin.

I was mad at myself for doing it again. Not for starting to have sex with Jonathon. That I couldn’t be upset about, except for the fact that we had been prevented from finishing. No, I was mad at myself for another reason. For hoping. For that little seed of hope that had taken root again, and I couldn’t seem to choke out. This was when being a glass-half-full person just set me up for disappointment. I couldn’t hope that Jonathon would want something, anything, with me.

I needed to be like him and realize that while the glass might be half full of liquid, the rest was vapor. I couldn’t see it, touch it, feel it, smell it, hold it.

It wasn’t mine.