Page 82 of The Last Man on Earth
She shakes her head again.
“I’m sorry.” And I mean it. She ain’t wrong to feel how she feels. “I really am.”
She glances at me, jaw tight.
“I’m sorry my sperm is so potent.”
She frowns for a second, then a laugh bursts out of her. The sound of it loosens something in me.
“Damn,” I say, smiling. “You ain’t laughed like that in a minute.”
She wipes tears off her face. “It’s like…every time I’m close to forgetting you’re younger than me, you go and say something to remind me. And I’m not even mad at it.”
“I’m just sayin’. Two women, both on birth control, and my swimmers broke through on somefuck yo pill. I'm trying to apologize for that. I'm being sincere.”
“Stop talking,” she says, laughing again. “Something is wrong with you.”
“Yeah, and you like that about me. Admit it.”
She rolls her eyes, but I get no argument.
I take a deep breath. “You want the positive spin, or the reality?”
She smiles. “Both.”
“The reality is that feeling bad about it ain’t gon’ change it. It’s happening. All we can do is keep you healthy and pray we get rescued before the baby comes.”
She blows out a sigh.
“The positive is that you gotmybaby in you. That means you ain’t gon’ lift a finger for the rest of your life.”
A slow smile spreads across her face.
“I take fatherhood real serious.” I reach out and tuck a braid behind her ear. “And I seen what having babies does to a woman. So, like I said, be prepared to be stuck with me.”
I brush my lips against hers, testing the waters, seeing if she’s still mad. She responds, poking out her lips for a quick peck.
So she’s still a little bit mad.
“You need anything right now?”
She looks up at me, eyes glassy. But she’s calm, at least. “I’m still processing,” she says. “But I’ll let you know.”
I kiss her again as I slide my hand onto her stomach.
“Whatever happens, you got me,” I say. “Always.”
MONTHS LATER
Chapter 40
Ari
I’m showing. It’s asmall curve right at my bikini line, soft and round, like my body’s telling the world a secret I haven’t said out loud yet.
Vincent dotes on me. Every morning before he gets up, he kisses the baby. Every night before he falls asleep, he kisses the baby. And in between, he waits on me hand and foot.
I can’t lift anything. Not a bucket, a shell, or even the mat we lay on when we sleep out on the beach. He acts like I’m carrying the next heir to a royal family.
