Page 70 of Falling Slowly
His arms tightened around me. “I can afford to buy all kinds of shit I don’t need. I can also afford things we do need.”
We. My brain fixated on that pronoun, turning it around like a foreign object, examining its shiny edges. Could I really be part of a whole with Charlie? I knew he was generous. Was this him showing off?
“You’d seriously take the risk?”
“It’s up to you. I know I want to be with you and I want a family, so I have no reason to make you take some pill.”
“You want to buy weird baby stuff from Kickstarter, don’t you?”
“Yeah, kind of.” His chest bounced under my cheek as he chuckled.
The sound relaxed me. It warmed my heart that he could imagine himself with a baby, even if he had no idea what he was talking about.
“I hope we find our way back tomorrow so I can get to the pharmacy. If I take it within twenty-four hours, it should be fine. But if I’m ovulating right now, it’s already too late. I can’t remember…”
I tried to do period math, but dates and weeks mixed up in my head, disappearing into a fog of tiredness. Judging by the way I’d climbed him, consumed by lust, the chances were high I was ovulating. Shit.
“It’s fine, Bess. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”
That warm, soothing voice was getting under my skin. “You can’t really be that relaxed about it.” I sniffed. “A baby is a huge responsibility. It changes everything.”
“You don’t think I’m responsible?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” I groaned.
“That’s reassuring.”
“I’m in the process of changing my mind about you. It’s a messy process.”
He weaved his fingers into my hair, stroking down. “Fair enough. I’ll wait.”
Another thought hit me. “I’ll need to get checked up, right?”
“I got tested a few months ago. All clear.”
“A lot can happen in a few months.”
“Nothing happened in a few months, Bess. Other than me getting a hand job from someone and lusting after you at work, wondering what you were really like.”
“Why? I’m not that much of a mystery. I’m the Buzzkill.”
“And I’m Broken Arrow.”
My gut twisted. “You heard that?”
“Teresa is pretty loud.”
“She doesn’t know how much you work. I need to tell her.”
“You don’t have to defend me. I can take it.”
“But she’s wrong. They’re all wrong. You’re far more talented than I am, and you work hard. And you’re so much more responsible than I ever thought.”
“And you’re way more fun than any of them know. You’re wild.”
“I’m not,” I protested. “I’m full of adrenaline or something. I don’t do reckless stuff like this. I don’t take risks. Not since…”
“Since the death of your husband?”
