Luke rubbed his hands over his face. The silence was deafening.
Yup.
Definitely zero excitement about it. She placed her hands on her stomach instinctively. If she was the only person in the world happy about her baby, she’d love the shit out of it so hard to make up for everyone else who didn’t.
In fact, it made it easier if he didn’t want it. There would be no long-distance custody fights or co-parenting agreements. Just her and her child.
Luke drew in a deep breath and stood, resting his hands on the counter either side of the sink, studying himself in the mirror. “How far along does that make you?”
“Technically ten weeks, but they call it twelve weeks because they date back to the date of your last period.”
“When did you find out?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention to my periods, but it was five weeks ago when the sickness really stepped up. I blamed food poisoning, but then I thought about my last period and you. I did a test the next day. Stewed about it, saw the ob-gyn that week.”
“But it’s fair to say you’ve had five weeks to get your head around this, right?” He glanced at her. “I’ve had an hour. You’ve probably thought through all the scenarios. What it means to you, to your career, your life. You’ve spoken to a doctor. You’ve had time to make plans. You need to give me time to do the same.”
“It’s not been as easy as you make it sound.” Willow’s eyes began to sting. She studied Luke whose face was giving nothing away. She wanted to say more, about what she’d learned about her father and what he’d been doing. But it still hurt to talk about, and she didn’t want to tell anyone in case word got out.
“That very first moment, though? When you did the maths in your head, or did the test or whatever, you didn’t have an ‘Oh, shit’ moment?”
“Fine. Yes. I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest. But I knew I wanted to keep it, Luke. It was the one thing I knew for certain as soon as those two lines appeared on the test. I didn’t care what I had to do to make it happen, I wanted it. I organised everything to get away, booked a ticket, and here I am. I needed somewhere I could think about what to do beyond knowing I wanted the baby.” Tears spilled over and she batted them away. Freaking hormones. She hated crying in front of him. Hated looking weak.
“I was in a popular kid’s TV show for seven years and did a few movies until I was thirteen, and puberty meant I wasn’t a cute kid anymore. Now, I make money on Shamaze as one of their top content and trend creators, where I also have a bunch of carefully curated family-friendly sponsors. I could lose every single one of them by falling pregnant during a one-night stand. I have a baby to support, so I can’t afford that. I can’t care that you aren’t excited. I just need you to step up for me for twelve months. Pretend that we are happy about this. Social media never reflects real life. We just need to make it look good on camera.”
Luke blew out a breath, tugged her to her feet, and pulled her to his chest. “Look,” he said, gruffly. “You need to give me twenty-four hours. Let me think this through. Get my own mind straight. This is all a really long way from where my life is heading. But you’re safe here while we figure out what to do next.”
We.
The word was like magic.
“Your folks don’t know you are here?”
Willow shook her head. “They should know by now that I’ve left. I know they’d try to coerce me into a decision that worked best for them if they knew any more.”
He worked his hands down her back. “I bet. You’ve been being sick like that a lot?”
“Yeah. And long haul flying and stress. None of it helps.”
She pressed her cheek to Luke’s chest, and he kissed the top of her head, chastely, almost sisterly. “It’s a head fuck, Will.”
There was a hint of levity to his comment. His hug reassured her it was in jest. But it still hurt.
“Right,” he said. “Give me a minute to change the sheets in the spare room, and we’ll get you sorted.”
He led her from the bathroom, from the intimacy of their conversation and her hope of convincing him she needed his help if she was going to salvage any of the threads of her life that would allow her to break free of her dad.
He owed it to her.
Tomorrow was a new day, and she’d get him on board.
A small part of her, the part that had felt secure in his arms, wished he’d invited her to sleep in his bed. One where he could hold her and chase away the shivers she got when she woke up panicked, fearing that she wasn’t capable of being a single mom.
But as she watched him make space for her in the spare room, she hoped he’d make room for their child in his heart.
Even if there was no room for her.
3
Sunday morning sunlight drifted through the cracks in Luke’s curtains as his eyes fluttered open. He watched the dust float in the rays as he shook clear dreams about vacuuming and bottles of pine-scented Dettol.
He yawned, wondering why he’d thought about cleaning when . . .
Fuck.
Willow.
Baby.
Sleeping in the room across from him.
And wow, wasn’t the thought of that like a slap across the face. Better than any alarm clock. His heart thundered in his chest, and any trace of sleep disappeared. Not that he’d had much. He’d fallen asleep with ideas playing mental Jenga in his head. Some settling into place, some jarringly awkward and painful.
Yes, he was oddly relieved to learn his sperm functioned. Odd, because no, he wasn’t ready for kids.
Yes, there was pride that Willow had felt she could come to him, and no, there was no way they could live together for the next year. He’d only just got the place back to himself after his sister had moved out.
Yes, he was fucking furious at the very idea that her family might push her into an abortion.
Because.
A fucking baby.
Yet, there was no way on God’s green earth he was cut out to be a father.
He tossed back the covers of the bed and walked to the bathroom, rubbing his temples where a low-grade headache throbbed. Hangovers needed sleep. Juice. Perhaps a wank. Normally, he slept naked, but for propriety’s sake, he’d pulled on joggers, which he promptly dropped to the floor. Luke turned the spray on ice-cold and stepped under it, his breath catching as he gasped beneath the chill.
And, yes, the thought of a child growing up without a dad, like he had after his firefighter father had died in a warehouse blaze, made his chest ache. But no, he wasn’t sure he was even remotely a good fit for Willow’s child.
His child.
And it wasn’t like he’d done a stellar job of looking out for his sister after his dad had passed away and their mum went to live in Brighton with his dad’s best friend. No, fatherhood was not one of his key skills.
Just as he’d turned the heat up and soaped his body, the bathroom door slammed open, and Willow sank to her knees in front of the toilet before throwing up in the bowl. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice small.
Quickly, he rinsed before turning the shower off. “You okay?”
A part of him wondered about the oddity of showering while someone was puking, but given him getting naked was part of the reason they were in this mess, he figured it was a non-issue. Bit too late for either of them to worry about what she might think of his dick. That ship had sailed.