Page 28 of Knocked Up
I feel the urge to move at turtle speed, there’s more to us dating than having a good time. What if we try it and it doesn’t work out? Then we still have to raise a baby together with a failed relationship between us.
“What if we start as friends?” I suggest, trying to appease his need to speed through life with the force of a whirlwind and compromising.
“I’m not getting friend-zoned by you. I’m not risking that.”
“Braxton,” I say and then stop. I don’t even know what to say, how to say it, how to toss my fears at him when he seems so certain about this—about us. I grab my water and take a few small sips, waiting until it settles down my throat. The chill from the ice does nothing to cool the warmth pulsing through my body at his words and determination.
I’m saved by having to say anything else when Marissa appears with my onion strings and soup. She slides everything onto the table, dropping off small plates and rolled utensils all the while, still snapping her gum. “Anything else I can getcha?”
“No,” Braxton says, never once pulling his eyes off me. “I have everything I need.”
I huff a laugh, shaking my head, and reach for a thin onion string and pop it into my mouth. “This is absurd,” I say after I’ve swallowed and I’m pouring ketchup into a massive pile on the plate.
“Your appetite? Yeah, it’s a bit absurd.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, smiling while I say it. It’s not what I was talking about and we both know it, but I like the way he feels so free to tease me.
I dip into my overwhelmingly large appetizer and eat a few bites of soup. I’m already beginning to feel full and the entire time, Braxton is watching me with a mixture of amusement and seriousness. When I slide the onion string basket into the center of the table, he takes a few and we both munch quietly.
I want to date him. I wanted to see him again too after the wedding, I was just so embarrassed.
I want everything he’s offering besides the moving-in-together thing. It’s much too fast. If we date, I want to move forward at a natural pace, not feeling like I’m one of his fostered animals he takes in because they need help and a home.
And perhaps it’d be safer for me to say no, for us to remain friends. Two friendly parents who aren’t together have to be better than parents who can’t stand to be in the same room together. My priority is no longer me and my needs, our baby’s needs come first.
It’s that thought that has me changing my mind on everything. For the first time since I decided to move forward with this pregnancy and confess the truth to Braxton, I finally feel what Jenna’s been trying to tell me.
I’m going to be a great mom. I can do this. And because I have this new, settled confidence and hope, I figure…what the hell, I’ve promised Jimmy something too.
Live for us, Cara. Live the life I won’t be able to have. Follow your dreams. Grab hold of them, please, promise me this.
I wash down the emotion thinking of Jimmy always brings and face Braxton.
His eyes meet mine and whatever he sees in my expression wipes away his grin.
“Cara—”
I cut him off.
“Is all of this because of the baby?”
“No.” His eyes slide to the left and he runs his hand across a hint of stubble that tells me he’s the kind of man who shaves frequently, but even twice a day wouldn’t keep his thick, black scruff away completely. “Okay,” he says, shaking his head and turning back to me. “Maybe a little. At least the moving-in part, but that’s because I want to take care of you. I don’t want to miss a thing about this baby or your pregnancy, and I don’t think I’m a jerk for not wanting to miss out on anything. Besides,” he says, and he gives me that teasing grin, “how can I run out and get you midnight cravings if I’m not around you at midnight?”
I can think of a few ways and those thoughts sear a heat to my chest before I can shake them off. It’s sweet. Too fast, but sweet.
It’s the sweetness that draws me in because he’s not the kind of guy who appears like he should be sweet, and yet it’s his kindness that pulled me in as soon as I met him. It took me approximately thirty seconds to see past the muscles and the sex-on-a-stick body and all that ink I wanted to lick all over the place. It’s his kindness and honesty that seal the deal now. At least with some limits.
“This Friday, the art gallery has a showing. Would you like to be my date?”
“Yes.” He nods and does what I wanted to do earlier. He reaches across the table, takes my hand in his and runs his thumb over my palm. “Yes, I would like to be your date.”
“Okay then.” I pop an onion into my mouth and nod. “Good.”
“And moving in with me?”
“Too soon. We can try dating, but not that.” I fumble with how to say it, not wanting to hurt him, but like I’ve already said, honesty is what we need right now. “I moved out on my own to prove to myself I can do it. I still need that, I guess.”
“Understood.” His hand is still holding mine, his thumb swishing back and forth along my palm and it’s such a small touch, but it’s not innocent. That tiny little swipe of his skin against mine sparks a sweet hot sensation and spreads it through my body. “Would I talk you into it if I tell you Lucy misses you?”
