“Say it,” he whispers. “I missed out on this the first time. I want to hear you say it.”
My throat is so tight I'm positive I won't even be able to take another breath, and he wants me to talk?
“Please?” he pleads softly.
He smiles at me and I can see his eyes start to fill with tears. I want to tell him so many things, but I'm too overcome with emotion and frankly, a little bit of puke. Two words are about all I can muster.
“I’m pregnant,” I whisper back with a sniffle.
“You’re pregnant?” he asks with a huge smile.
Um, duh? What the f**k do you THINK all this is about? Oh my God, what is wrong with me? I’m sorry! I love you!
“Are you not happy about being pregnant?” he asks, showing the first sign of worry since he stepped into the room.
“I figured YOU wouldn’t be happy. You’re totally screwed now. If you decide you don’t like me, I’ve got you for eighteen years. I’m your baby mama times two. That’s triflin’, yo.”
Carter laughs and wrapped his arms around my waist so he could pull me up against him.
“Stop trying to quote Kanye. You’re not a golddigger, and there’s no question whose kids they are,” he tells me as he cups my cheek with one hand and rubs it softly with his thumb.
“That’s what you think. Sperm from the floor of the sex toy shop might have jumped off of the carpet and up into my vagina. No telling who this one belongs to.”
He stares at me for a few minutes before kissing the tip of my nose.
“I know you’re freaking out. It’s okay. Just talk to me. Whatever you’re feeling, I want to know. And I am perfectly fine with this. In fact, I am EXTATIC with this. There is absolutely nothing that could ruin my good mood about this news,” he affirms.
There cannot be a more perfect man in the world than him. Fact.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure we conceived this child the night I ate that pot cookie. I’m eighty-four percent positive our child is going to be born a pot head. It’s going to come out with dreadlocks and wearing a Bob Marley onesie. Its first word will probably be, ‘Whaaaaaazzzzzzzzuuuuup’. It’s never, ever going to sleep through the night because it’s always going to have the munchies.”
Carter chuckles and tightens his hold on me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rest my chin on his shoulder.
“If that’s the case, we’ll just have to make sure we have plenty of Cheetos on hand at all times and some Grateful Dead music to play in the nursery,” he states.
I sigh and turn my head so I can rest my cheek on his shoulder and burrow into the side of his neck.
“It’s going to be fine. I promise you. I love you and I’m not going anywhere. This is the best news you could have ever given me. Nothing could make me happier right now.”
Gavin suddenly comes bursting through the doorway.
“Dad, woke up dis morning, got myself a gun’ is on!” he says excitedly. “And my wiener feels funny again. It won’t stop being tall.”
“Oh my God. I take that back. THIS is the happiest moment of my life. My son just got a boner for Sopranos,” Carter whispers.
“Like father like son,” I deadpan.
Carter pulls me up from the floor of the bathroom and tells me to leave the mess and that he’d clean it up later. He tells me I'm not allowed to do anything else for the rest of the day but lie on the couch and let him wait on me. He always knows exactly what to say to make me feel better, and he takes such good care of me. I'm an idiot for being disappointed that he doesn’t immediately ask me to marry him. He loves me and he's happy we're going to have a baby. I can’t help but wonder though why he hadn’t asked. He obviously isn’t in shock like I am so there has to be another reason. As I curl up on the couch with my head on Carter’s lap, I try to ignore the pain in my heart at the thought that maybe he doesn’t think I was marriage material.
20. Did Not Finish
Three months later
“So what you’re telling me is you wanted him to drop down on one knee and ask you to marry him in the bathroom?” my mother asks.
I roll my eyes and reached for another balloon to blow up. My mother has offered to help me set everything up for Gavin’s fifth birthday party the next day. We are having it at the shop after hours. I let Gavin invite a few of his friends from preschool and think having a party in a candy store will be fun for them. As soon as my mother walks in the door of the shop she can tell I'm not myself. I blame my mood swings and crying jags the last few months on pregnancy hormones, but she knows better. The number of times we've talked on the phone, I gloss over what's wrong. Now that she can see me in person, I can’t hide anything from her.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, chickadee. I’m just trying to make sure I understand this correctly,” she says as she hangs a “Happy Birthday” banner on the wall. “You thought it would be romantic and beautiful if, once he found out you were pregnant, proposed immediately. So you wanted him to propose out of guilt and obligation for knocking you up instead of out of love.”
Well when you say it that way…
“No! I mean…I don’t know. I just would have liked for the effort to have been made. Maybe even a comment about us getting married or getting engaged at some point in the future. The fact that he hasn’t said one word about it in three months just sucks,” I tell her. “Every day I keep waiting for him to bring it up and every day that goes by and he doesn’t, I get more upset. What if he doesn’t think I would make a good wife? I know he loves me, but maybe he’s not IN love with me. The kind of love that makes you want to do everything in your power to ensure you spend the rest of your life with that one special person. Maybe I’m not that special person for him.”