Page 21 of Accidentally Falling
“I’m going to ignore that.”
“Why? It’s a compliment.”
“Does any of this sound good to you?”
“It all sounds good, but I think I’d better start with the chicken noodle soup.”
“All right.” Opening the container, I cross the kitchen and put it into the microwave before starting the timer and moving back to the others. “I’m going to put the other chicken noodle soup in the fridge with one potato soup and one grilled chicken. The rest are going in the freezer.”
“Do you think I can’t feed myself?”
“Are you tryin’ to pick a fight?”
She frowns. “Not really. I’ve just never had someone cook for me before.”
The microwave beeps, stopping me from saying something that will probably come off dickish instead of the way I intend it to.
“Where are your potholders?” I ask, pulling open the drawers and finding one lonely kitchen towel next to the silverware.
“I don’t have any.”
Choosing not to comment, while mentally adding that to my list to pick up for her, I grab the towel and carefully remove the glass dish.
“Watch the sides,” I tell Arden as I place the soup in front of her, the savory smell reminding me that I haven’t eaten in a while. Waiting until I’m home is totally worth it when I see the absolutely blissed-out expression on her face.
“This is amazing.” With a blush of her cheeks, she adds, “Thank you for taking the time. It’s so incredibly sweet.”
“You’re welcome.” My voice is gruff as I rub the back of my neck, the urgency of my visit dissipating as she eats her soup.
“Do you want to see her?” she asks, my breath seizing in my lungs at the abruptness of her question.
“You know it’s a girl?” I manage, my voice hoarse as a new wave of awareness washes over me.
“Not officially,” she says, placing her hand over her small stomach. “I just have this feeling. Here.” Reaching for her purse, she pulls out a strip of black-and-white pictures and hands them to me.
“Wow.” My breath is a heavy exhale. The picture doesn’t really mean anything other than Iknowit shows our baby.
Our baby.
“It was only the first appointment. I was in denial and I needed someone else to tell me what the ten pregnancy tests I took already confirmed.”
“That must have been really scary. I’m sorry you went through that alone.”
We’re silent for a minute, her spoon resting in the empty bowl. “Ten was an exaggeration.”
“I figured.”
“What are we going to do? I mean, coparent obviously but?—”
My mind has locked onto the wordscoparent obviously, the two casually stated words grating on my restraint, my knuckles turning white as I grip the lip of the counter.
I may not have known Arden James a long time, and I may be pretty far out on the proverbial limb with this but I don’t care. She’s mine.
She was mine the minute I gave her a nickname.
Mine the day she came looking to drown her sorrows in alcohol and allowed me to take its place.
Mine in the same breath that told me she’s carrying my child.
