“That's what she said.”
“She doesn't say much these days.”
“No shit. She's terrified she's pregnant.”
“If she's so afraid, why did she beg me to fuck her?”
“Because she has poor taste?'
“HEY!”
Mike spread his arms wide. “You asked!”
“I was being rhetorical.”
“Sorry the truth hurts.”
“I like you better sober.”
Mike finished off his beer, then belched. “I don't. The world is so much easier this way.”
“Say that to me in the morning, when the dehydration headache hits.”
“Nah. V-8 juice, some turmeric, a little lemongrass tea for cerebral spinal fluid boosts and loads of alkaline water and I'll be fine.”
“Bibbidy-bobbity-boo!”
Mike thought his reflexes were good, but the alcohol must have slowed them down because Jeremy easily dodged the deck of cards in the case he flung at the guy's head.
“We've regressed to violence? Oh, goody.”
“I hope the baby's mine,” Mike hissed, making Jeremy halt.
“What?”
“I hope the baby's mine. Because you're so juvenile you might as well be the baby's younger brother.”
“If I'm the baby's younger brother, Lydia and I broke countless laws, Mike.”
“Wouldn't be the first time you broke laws by having sex, Jeremy.”
That shut him up.
Because Mike was right.
“I don't think,” Jeremy said slowly, scraping the plate to get the last bit of gooey caramel off it, “I've broken laws in the United States.”
“You ever get a blow job in Texas?”
“Who hasn't?”
“Then you're an outlaw.”
“Please. The Supreme Court took care of that almost twenty years ago. I'm fine.”
“Did you get a blow job before 2003 in Texas?”
“Sure.”
Mike shot him a smug smile, raised eyebrows and all.
A belch was Jeremy's answer.
Putting the dish in the sink, Jeremy rinsed it and stuck it in the dishwasher, then took a second gander at the machine. It was full enough, so he put dishwasher liquid in and fired it up. In the morning, Lydia would faint from joy that Jeremy did the dishes.
That made Mike smile.
“You look boozy. What's so good? Thinking about babies?”
“No. How chores are an aphrodisiac for Lydia.”
“They are, aren't they? Women are so weird.”
“Men aren't any easier.”
“Is that a crack against me?”
“Yes.”
Jeremy considered that. “Fair enough. I'm a pain in the ass.”
“You're a pain everywhere.”
“But you lubs me.” Jeremy came in for a big hug, over-exaggerating his movements, making Mike start to wrestle with him until Jeremy stepped back and laughed.
“We're hopeless.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“The last thing we're ready for is fatherhood.”
“Speak for yourself.”
That made him jolt. “Really, Mike? You're ready?”
“I am.”
“I'm not.”
Mike pointed to his temple. “This is my shocked face, Jeremy.”
“Shut up. Don't tell me you're seriously ready.”
“I. Am. Seriously. Ready.”
“Is Lydia?”
All the words that should have come into Mike's mind decided to flee just then.
“Remember what life was like before we met her?” Jeremy said, jumping in before Mike could even try to formulate an answer. “You were Mr. CEO Playboy, and I was – ”
“ – nothing but play.”
“Right!” Jeremy said brightly, as if he missed the dismissive undertone from Mike's comment.
“All play and no work makes Jeremy a slacker.”
A confused look was his only response.
“And that's bad because...?”
Mike ran both hands through his hair, then stood, plunking himself down on the couch, staring at the ceiling. “It's not. Maybe I should have played more.”
“You were a playboy, Mike. Not exactly a stuffed shirt.”
“All those years I spent, driven to conquer in the business space. Poof! It disappeared overnight.”
“Our life now is way better.”
“It is,” he grudgingly admitted. “But I want more.”
“Did you sabotage that condom?”
Sober suddenly, Mike turned to Jeremy and damn near decked him, pulling the punch at the last second. By the time he stopped himself, Jeremy was halfway across the room, breathing hard.
“What the hell, Mike?”
“No. Of course not. I would never do that.”
“I was joking. I didn't think you would. You're all about consent.”
“And decency.”
“That, too,” Jeremy added as an afterthought.
The world throbbed and spun, Mike's mood shifting as the alcohol downgraded itself from “Everywhere” to “Lingering” in his bloodstream. Unaccustomed to deep conversations like this, he nonetheless enjoyed it.
Jeremy? Not so much.
“If she's pregnant, what're we going to do?” Mike muttered, hating that he even had to rely on Jeremy emotionally but knowing it was better than bottling everything up.
“We'll follow her lead.”
Mike waited for elaboration.
Waited a while.
“That's it?” he ground out. “Those are your words of wisdom?”
“They're the truth.”
“Of course we follow her lead. It's her body! But it's our life.”
My life, Mike thought to himself.
My son or daughter.
“You know me, Mike. I don't borrow trouble. Own plenty of it outright. Don't need more. So if she's pregnant, it's her burden. That's not fair, but it's basic biology. We'll be here for her every step of the way. A broken condom doesn't change that.”
“It should.”
Anger made Jeremy's face pull back. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It should change our conversations. Why didn't we talk about kids before this? We're getting old.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“And,” Mike continued, ignoring that crap, “life's gotten a bit dull around here.”
“Dull? What do you mean, dull?”
“When was the last time we did anything other than fix a building, corral an animal, eat a good meal?”
“Add in a great shag in bed and you're describing a damn fine life, Mike.”
“What about the beach? Sun? Art? Culture?”
“You told me none of that mattered when you dragged me here to live.”
Mike snorted. “No one dragged you here.”
“No,” Jeremy was forced to admit. “That's true. But you think a baby is going to replace a sun-filled beach full of skin and lust in Thailand or the French Riviera?”
“I think it would be better.”
“Kids? Seriously, Mike. Kids?” Jeremy sat back down with a thump, reaching for a fresh, cold beer.