Oh, for fuck’s sake. I square my shoulders, attempting to announce my own feelings to myself if no one else. Not that I damn well know what they are. I’m a fucking mess. Have been since Daniel told me, and then even more so when I heard that heartbeat. I stare at the view, noting all the buildings I own, all the power I have, and yet here, now, I can’t even speak?
Fuck this.
“You’re pregnant.” The words fall out of my lips like they’re a statement of fact. No emotion involved. No happiness or endearment. I can’t even turn my head, for some reason worried she’ll be unhappy about it. I wouldn’t blame her for that shit either.
Curiosity eventually gets the better of me, and I tilt my eyes to look at her because she hasn’t uttered a damn sound.
She’s looking at me with a blank expression. She doesn’t even seem shocked. She’s devoid of anything but a pale exterior and a shaking hand trying to hold coffee.
“Pregnant,” she states, no expression.
I nod. Pregnant. Fact.
“About nine or ten weeks now.”
Her brows furrow, her body pushing off the railings in the same move. She places the coffee down and walks away from me towards the other end of the roof. I stare after her, not having a goddamn clue whether to go after her or leave her to digest that information on her own. We’re equal in this. For once I’m not in control. There’s nothing I can do to force her into decisions, and I’ve had two weeks to get my head around it.
For her, it’s seconds.
She paces the whole of the deck on her own, fingers spinning that ring around like she’s mulling it all over. Yeah, I know that feeling. I’ve been able to concentrate on nothing but her. No business has been enough to distract me. No concern enough to draw me away from her, even if it’s at a slight distance. I’ve needed some element of space to try to screw my head around this, but my instinct towards her has only grown. I’ve even stopped her running these past few days when she said she was well enough, in case that damaged the baby. Said it was because of the injury. It wasn’t.
Fuck.
I sit after a while and stare out at the view again with a sigh of my own. Feels like the first time I’ve sat still in two weeks. It’s quiet up here, peaceful but for the constant images of us trying to be a normal family. I can’t get them out of my head. A kid. A boy. A girl.
Fuck, help me if it’s a girl.
I’ve visualised it all this time while looking at my apartment and its immaculate surfaces, no fucking idea how a kid fits into that or the life around me. Guns, violence. I know that feeling, know what it turns a kid into—me. That’s not happening for my own. And Hope? I’ve never seen a goddamn maternal instinct in her. Or in me for that matter. If she wants it, though, we’ll try. Could even buy a house somewhere out of the city, gardens and shit. Housekeepers. Nannies. The hell am I thinking about?
As if my life fits into that.
“What do you want?” she suddenly says over my shoulder.
Them both safe.
Away from me if that's what it takes.
I stand again, turning to her, and look into those eyes. She’s about five feet away, keeping a distance between us. I don’t like it, not for these types of discussions. That’s always been the problem between us, too much distance, even when I thought there wasn’t any, not other than the space I’d put in place.
My feet try to close the distance down, but she backs off again, a hand up to stop my advance.
“No. We talk about this like rational adults, Benjamin,” she says calmly, standing firm. “I’ll go. That’s fine if this isn’t right between us, because I’m not having it grow up in a family without love.” A small frown tips my brow as she fiddles with that ring again. “Because I did that. I grew up where there was nothing but hatred. I’m not doing it to my own child. Neither are you.”
My hands go to my pockets. I have no real understanding of that. My family wasn’t perfect, but there was love between my parents, respect anyway. Not that I seem to have grown up understanding what the fuck that is. She never had a gun pressed into her hand, though. Guess that changes a young man’s perception on what love means.
She starts shaking for some reason, hands wrapping around her stomach in a protective grip. “And I won’t be treated the way I have been. Not anymore. That’s not the life for a child. So, if that’s all you’ve got to give, then I’m gone, Benjamin. I’m not doing that again.”
“All right.”
“All right? What does that mean?” Her feisty tone makes me smile.
“You want more, you can have more.” She quirks her head, clearly less than pleased with my response. I’m not sure what else she wants. I’ve never offered anyone anything other than what she’s had all this time. She wants something different to that, she can have it. Whatever it is. I’ve already given her more than anybody else, and that was before I knew she was carrying my child.
I step forward again, attempting to close this fucking distance down.
“No. I need more than that.”
For fuck’s sake. “Give me a goddamn break, Hope. I’m trying here.”
