I stand outside my house and stare at the front door. It’s been two days since Adley walked away. Two days since I fucked up the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve given her the space she asked for, and it’s killing me. I knew I’d fallen in love with Adley, but I didn’t realize how much I needed her until she was gone. I miss everything: her smile, laugh, the way she crinkles her nose when she’s studying. I miss her hand linked with mine and kissing her goodnight. I miss every fucking thing. And it’s only been two days.

The look of hurt on her face when she pulled away from me at the hospital is still fresh in my mind. It destroyed me not to chase after her.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not letting her go. That woman is mine whether she likes it or not. But I’ve got to convince her of that.

I sent her a text that first night, and again last night, of something I love about her—something real and tangible, not just a feeling. Because I want her to believe me, and I want her to know I’m thinking of her and missing her.

Pulling my phone out, I stare at the two texts I’ve sent and work on deciding what to type next. There are millions of things I love about Adley, so I choose the first one that comes to mind.

You have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. You love deeply, and I love that about you.

Tucking my phone in my pocket, I walk up the steps to my house, hating that I’ll be here without her. I’ve been dreading coming back home, choosing instead to spend all of my time at the hospital with Dad. Today the doctor released him, and I had no choice but to leave with him.

I unlock the front door and shove it open. I kick it shut, flick on the light, and draw up short at the sight of Adley sitting on the couch. Her book bag is beside her, along with another bag, and she’s staring at her phone—presumably reading the text I just sent.

“What are you doing in the dark?” I say, taking a step toward her.

Adley looks up. Her eyes are puffy and red, cheeks slick with tears, and my heart hurts because I know I’m the cause of her pain.

“It wasn’t dark when I sat down.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know. Three or four hours.” She holds up her phone, showing me the text I just sent. “What is this?”

“It’s my way of saying goodnight. I don’t get to kiss you and tell you how much I love you before you go to sleep right now, so I’m sending you texts with the things I love about you. I want you to believe me.”

Her chin trembles, and she looks away.

“You should’ve called me. If I’d known you were here, I would’ve come home.”

She bites her lips and nods. “I know you would’ve. How’s Christopher?”

“He’s good. They put two stents in his heart. I just dropped him off at home. Chloe is with him.”

“Good. That’s good.” Her eyes drop back to the phone in her hands. “I’ve been thinking about him a lot. I hope he knows I wanted to be there.”

“He knows.” I take another step forward. “What’s in the bag?” I ask, nodding toward the one that doesn’t carry her school books.

Adley takes a deep breath and looks up. “I came here to pack my stuff, told myself I was going to grab everything and go, but I couldn’t leave.”

A kernel of hope unfurls in my gut. “Adley, we need to talk.”

She pushes up from the couch. “I know we do, but not about what you think.”

I tilt my head to the side.

Adley sticks her phone in her back pocket. “I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant? Pregnant. “Say that again.”

She takes a deep breath and looks at something on the floor. “I’m pregnant.”

She’s pregnant. Adley is pregnant. With my baby.

I let the word soak into my body. I stand still and wait for the fear to hit—fear that I’ll end up like my parents and screw my kid’s life up the way they screwed with mine.

But that fear doesn’t come.

Because I’m not my parents. I’ve worked damn hard to be the complete opposite of them, and my kid will never grow up the way Chloe and I did. Suddenly I know that for certain.

Warmth radiates from my heart to the tips of my fingers and toes, but before I get my hopes up, I need to hear her say it one more time.

“You’re pregnant with my baby.”

“Of course it’s your baby.” Her head pops up, eyes wide, as though she can’t believe I just said that.

Turning on her heel, she grabs her bags and takes a step toward the door, but I catch her arm in my hand.

“Let go of me,” she snaps.

It kills me to let her go, but I do as she asks.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” I tell her. “It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. I know the baby is mine. I never thought for a second it wasn’t. You’re pregnant with my baby.”

This time there’s a spark of love in my gut—love for a baby that isn’t even here, and I already know I’ll love him or her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.

“Why do you look happy?” she asks, dropping the bags back on the couch.

“Because I am.” I take a step forward, and she steps back, and that’s when I see the uncertainty in her eyes. “The timing isn’t perfect, but a baby is a miracle. This is a baby. Our baby. Aren’t you happy?”

Her eyes dance between mine. “No, I’m not happy,” she cries. “I had dreams, Lincoln. Dreams of starting my career, finding a strong, solid man and getting married, and somewhere down the road starting a family. Instead I’m going to be a single mother because I got knocked up by a man who two days ago said the last thing this world needs is his spawn running around. And to top it all off, I know nothing about being a mother, Lincoln. What if I suck at it?”

Her words slice through me. We should be happy and celebrating. I understand that the timing isn’t ideal, but this is a baby.

“Stop.” Shaking my head, I close the distance between us, not giving her the chance to step away. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother, and you’re never going to be alone again. Do you hear me? We’re going to raise this baby together. We’re going to get married, and I’m going to buy you a beautiful home, and—”

“Don’t.” She pushes away from me, her eyes searching mine. “We’re not getting married. I don’t want you to want to marry me because I’m pregnant with your baby.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I hurt you. And I know you’re having a hard time believing me right now, but you have to trust me when I say this: I want to marry you because of you, Adley. Because I’m in love with you. Baby or no baby, you’re it for me. I love you.”

“I want to believe you.” Her eyes focus on something over my shoulder. “I’ve tried. I swear I’ve tried. I sat here and tried to convince myself that we could move past this, that I’m overreacting. And who knows? Maybe I am. But I keep hearing your words, and I keep thinking about this baby. We’re having a baby, Lincoln. A child is going to depend on us for everything. Right now, I have to focus on that.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” I say.

Tears drip down her face, and I know she doesn’t want me to hug her, but I can’t just stand here. She’s breaking. Arguing with her right now is pointless. She’s raw—we’re both raw—and the last thing I want to do is upset her and cause harm to her or the baby.

“Please, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I’m sorry I hurt you, Adley, and I promise I’m going to make this right. But I need you to calm down. You’re pregnant now, and I don’t want you or the baby upset.”

She shakes her head, faster and faster with each word.

“Yes. Godammit, yes.” I grip her face in my hands and slam my mouth against hers, determined to kiss away her pain, to show her how much I love her.

If she won’t believe my words, she’ll have no choice but to listen to my body, because my body doesn’t lie when she’s around.

At first, she’s tense, her body tight with anger. Slamming her fist against my chest, she fights to get away, but I hold on, refusing to let go, and as the seconds pass, she slowly melts against me. Her lips go pliant, accepting everything I give, and when I press my tongue to her mouth, she opens for me.

Our kiss is hurried and desperate. I try to slow it down, infuse it with all the tenderness and love rushing through me, but she doesn’t let me. For her this kiss is goodbye. I can feel it. It’s in the desperate way she clings to my shirt, the frantic movement of her mouth, and when she tries to pull away, I don’t let her, because I know what comes next, and I’m not ready for it.

“Lincoln.” She pushes my chest, forcing me to take a step back. Her fingers rest on her swollen lips. “I can’t do this with you. Not right now.”

“I made a mistake, Adley. How long are you going to hang this over my head?” My voice rises an octave because I’m frustrated. This is ridiculous. “I’m here now, apologizing, begging you to forgive me, and telling you how much I love you and how much you mean to me. If you push me away, it’s out of pure stubbornness.”

“Maybe, but I need to be sure…”

“Adley—”

She grabs her bags, hooking them over her shoulders, and walks to the door. “I need more than words right now, Lincoln.”

“What do you need? Tell me what to do.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you. You figure it out.” She walks across the room and yanks open my front door. “You say you love me and you want this baby and marriage and a family—”

“I do.”

“Prove it.”