Page 59 of Jake and Conner
Inside of me, there was a new life growing. A life that Jake and I had created together--and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure that this pregnancy resulted in a healthy baby.
I only needed to find a way to tell Jake.
26
Conner
The following weekend, I took Mark out to the mall so we could get some paternity clothes for him. He was quickly growing out of anything he had, and I was looking forward to spending some time with the kid. He'd been through so much, I wanted to do something nice for him.
"Can you feel the babies kick yet?" I asked, glancing at him as we approached the entrance of the mall. It was Saturday, and therefore crowded. The bustle and the noise of the people around us seemed to make Mark shrink into himself a little bit, so I tried to take his thoughts off our surroundings.
It seemed to work too. "All the time," he said with a soft smile. "It's so weird, to know there's something actually living and growing inside of you.Twosomethings. Super weird."
"I bet it is." Quietly, I wondered how much time it would take until I would feel my baby's first stirrings, but I didn't mention any of that to Mark. I hadn't even told Jake about the baby yet. Truth be told, I wasn't sure how to.
"Thank you for taking me out," Mark said. "You really don't have to pay for anything. I've saved up some money."
"Don't worry about it," I waved him off, knowing that he would need that money in the future if he was going to feed two hungry kids. "It's Christmas soon, isn't it?"
"Thank you." Mark bit his lower lip. I could tell that he didn't like having to accept my generosity, but he was grateful for it all the same. He was a good kid, really. I was sure he was going to make a good parent too, even though he was young.
"Let's go in there," I said, pointing at a store near the entrance at the mall that seemed to have what we were looking for. I'd never shopped for paternity clothes before, but I'd sometimes advised omegas who were new to the area. Google was my friend.
Mark nodded, and we entered the small shop. It didn't cover a large area, but we found colorful clothing for both men and women that covered all stages of pregnancy.
After we'd browsed for a few seconds, a friendly shopkeeper who I estimated to be in her mid-twenties bounced up to us. "Welcome to Roseberry!" she greeted us. Her eyes immediately went to Mark's belly. "Congratulations on the baby! I think we have just the stuff you need!"
"We're going to need some pants," I said. "Probably four or five."
"I don't need that many," Mark cut in. "I can do laundry."
"Don't be silly. You'll be busy enough without having to worry about laundry every day."
"I'm sure we can find some comfortable pants," the shopkeeper said. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze roaming the store before focusing on me. "Will you be needing anything as well?"
I was so caught off guard by that question, I couldn't come up with a response. For some weird reason it hadn't evenoccurredto me yet that I would be needing more loose-fitting clothing myself as my pregnancy progressed. But it would probably take a couple more weeks before I even started showing.
"I'm sorry if that was a rude thing to ask," the shopkeeper said. "I'll come back with some things for you to look at," she added, directed at Mark, before flitting off.
Mark, meanwhile, shot me a curious look. "Everything okay?" he asked. My discomfort was probably showing on my face.
Silently, I told myself to get a grip. "I'm fine," I said to Mark. "Sorry, just haven't been sleeping well." Which was true. My thoughts had kept me up all night.
There were so many things to consider. When was I going to tell Jake? How was I going to tell Jake? Where were we going to live? Were we both going to keep working? Would he expect me to quit my job? Would he try to wrap me in bubble-wrap?
I knew the answer to that last question, but not the others.
"I'm sorry," Mark said. "You should be relaxing on your day off right now."
"I'm happy to be here."
And before Mark could utter any more protests, the shopkeeper came back with clothes for him to try on and he was gently corralled into the changing room.
I waited while he changed in and out of things, offered comments when he wanted them and took more clothes from the shopkeeper when she brought them over.
"When did you tell Bastian about the baby?" I asked Mark during a quieter moment when the shopkeeper was busy greeting a new customer.
"About two weeks after I found out," Mark's voice came through the curtain that hid him from view. "I probably should have done it sooner, but I was too scared."
