HOLD THE BABY? Sure. I  can do that. Check.

Prepare bottles? Check.

Feed and burp the little guy? No problem. Check.

Ready for the wild ride? Huh...

"How much longer are you going to stand there and say nothing?" Olivia asks, her eyes fixed on mine, looking for some reaction, nervous fingers fidgeting with her scarf again.

But I keep staring at the pregnancy ultrasound photo she's given me, half overwhelmed, half in shock, trying to put together the many thoughts spinning around in my head.

Change nappies? Sure, I'm a pro by now. Check.

Install baby seat in the car? Easy. Check.

"Brian? Please..." A warm hand touches my face.

I should have taken her into my arms already and let her know I wouldn't want anyone else to be the mother of my child, but I haven't yet. I'm frozen. After these past three weeks my nervous system was already on the fritz – and now this?

Just give me another ten seconds.

Until it all sinks in.

Or I collapse and begin to cry.

For some reason, I can't bring myself to look at her. I suspect she'll come up with some emancipation theory and then wants me to have little to no involvement in it all, and the idea is simply daunting.

"Sorry. It's just that you caught me completely by surprise and... and nothing. Of course, I'm ready for this, Olivia."

She steps back and looks sternly at me. "But you feel stuck now. It feels like a burden, doesn't it? And if you had the choice, we wouldn't go forward with it?"

I take one step forward. "And you say that because?"

"Because look at you! You look like this is some sort of karmic punishment or something. The universe has just screwed you up and now you don't know what to do."

"What? No!" I pull her to me, leaving a long kiss on the top of her head. "Of course, I'm ready to sign up for this. As ready as I can possibly be. I mean, I don't think anyone is ever actually ready, but the idea of nappies, bottles, your hormones going ballistic 24/7 and being thrown into a huge galactic loop doesn't send me into a dreadful cold sweat!

"I'm ready to be there, at your side, to listen and help. Because you're tired, your feet are swollen, your nipples are sore. The bloody stretch marks don't go away, your old shape doesn't come back, I don't know. Apparently, the list can be quite long, just ask my sister. All I know is I'm willing to do my best, so I guess that makes me kind of ready.

"And if you don't shut me out, I'm ready to be part of it all, to be there at the birth and take care of you when you come home. You'll probably think your life is over, that I'm the ultimate jerk and you're a bad mother, and all you want is to cry. And it's okay, I'll look after both of you and it'll pass.

"And I'll learn to walk straight at three in the morning. Or I won't. But I'll still stumble to the crib because he's crying, and I'll walk him until he falls back to sleep. Or I do. And when half of my sanity is already gone, I'll check on him too, in the middle of the night, several times, not because he's crying, but just to check if he's breathing...

"I'm ready to be awake for a month straight and just doze standing or sitting up and go fully mental in the process – like everyone else does.

"But that's not all bad news; apparently, they mostly seem to survive. And we will probably fight sometimes, mostly out of exhaustion, but we'll also make it work because the little fella is ours and he was made with love.

"Now, am I scared? I am. I'm scared stiff. Shit, he's just a tiny, little thing and it already feels I'm heading down a roller-coaster!

"What am I not ready for... is to lose you. Again. That's the only truth."

She stares at me for several beats, then asks, "Why do you keep saying he?"

I just bared my soul and poured out my heart, and this is her reaction?!

I drag in a long breath, pushing both hands through my hair. "Please, tell me we're in this together."

"Why do you keep saying he?" she asks again, fighting back the tears that are already starting to roll down her face.

Honestly? The idea of having a girl leaves me all funky, it really scares me out of my wits, what else can I say? But that's the least of my problems now, really. My real problem is that I'm seriously losing it and–

And I crack.

Unable to control the emotions, I drop to the floor and press my head against her belly. "He, she – what does it matter? What matters is that I want to be his dad. I want to see your baby bump grow, I want to stroke it, talk to it, see it when he starts moving. Oh boy, in my sister it looked like a scene from Alien..." I let out a laugh. So I won't cry. "Oh, never mind, I don't know what I'm saying anymore, I'm talking rubbish."

I angle my head up, wishing I could discern what's in her mind. Her eyes still have that same sad, worried expression they had before.

As I find myself trying to guess her thoughts, my whole body locks up. "It's you, isn't it? You don't want to keep it? And you also want to break up with me, for good, but you're not finding the words or the courage, is that it?"

My words are bitter, and she comes down immediately. We're both on our knees facing each other.

"No!"

"No what? You want the baby, but there's no us. You still want to be with me, but having this baby right now is not an option?"

"No, of course not! And I do want to be with you too. God, I missed you so much. I missed your good morning kisses and our late talks at night. I missed your sometimes sweet, sometimes crazy sexy texts in the middle of the day. I missed your smile, the sound of your laugh, your arms around me. I missed everything... but if you step back and think straight, this is really not the right time!"

"Apparently, it never is."

"And besides, how many times do you think I've fantasised about this moment, telling my partner we were going to be parents? I've always imagined it so much different..."

"Different how? Not with someone who loves you and wants to love our baby more than life itself?"

"We wouldn't be in the middle of a sort of time-out situation, for starters. And maybe I'd surprise you with a pair of baby socks. Or with a tiny t-shirt with some cute 'my dad rocks' line. Or I'd take a picture of the test and set it as the background image on your computer, that'd be cool! Or I'd give you a baby-on-board sign for your car, or I'd just park in an expectant mothers' spot and break the news! I don't know, something we could laugh at, later on, something memorable."

"Memorable? I'm on my knees, in a kitchen – not my kitchen! Hopefully, those two will spare me the embarrassment of coming here to check what's going on – and I'm crying like a boy. Do you think I'll ever forget this moment?"

She holds my face in her hands. "But first I wanted to be sure this is what you really want, to be with me, and I also–"

"But I do! And besides, that's how life is: it does not always go according to plan. So what? We adjust!"

"And I also needed to be sure I'm ready to trust someone else again, without doubt constantly nagging at me. Without fearing all the time that, sooner rather than later, I'd end up alone because you either can't take us seriously or you'd run away at the first problem or–"

"You were the one who ran away at the first problem, Olivia, not me," I tell her a bit harshly.

"I'm so sorry." There's a pained expression on her face when she lowers her gaze. "I was so afraid you'd freak out about this and walk away... And I wasn't even sure if you'd still be waiting for me. I thought maybe you were already fed up with it, had decided to forget about us and move on with your life and–"

And nothing. I lock my lips against hers.

Granted, life can be rough and challenging sometimes, and I'm sure there must be at least a hundred ways to screw it up – at this rate, I could easily become a pro –, but giving up too soon on us wasn't going to be one of them.

In one swift movement, I pull her up, sit her on the countertop and cover her flushed face with gentle kisses. Her eyelids, her temples, the freckled bridge of her nose. And I kiss her again, softly at first, then deeper and harder when she parts her lips and lets out a little sigh that ripples through me. It's my name she's breathing out.

It's warm and tastes of her, her mouth, and I savour it eagerly, almost desperately. Because I miss her lips, her tongue moving against mine, her hands combing through my hair and pulling me closer. I miss her touch. Her smell. I missed it all. Every single night and day we've been apart.

My hold on her tightens and I pull her against me. She leans her body even closer and locks her legs around my hips, filling that last inch that separated us. My eyes are burning into hers as my hands move up and down her back and then slide forward to outline the fullness of her breasts – which feel so different now.

Jesus. The last glimmer of rational thought is about to desert me.

I bend to capture her lips again and ask her between shallow breaths, "For the love of God, can I take you home now?"

She stops moving her lips beneath mine and pulls me back gently. "You really meant it? You want to do this?" She rests her hand on her belly. "You want to be there, at the birth?"

"Of course! I'm no wuss."

That's not entirely true. In fact, the idea is pretty mind-blowing, and it gives me chills. But sure, I'm going to be there.

"Promise?"

"I do."

"But there's something else. And it's really important and you have to know about it... before we embark on this together."

What now? You've been with some other bloke in the meantime? Please. Keep it to yourself, sweep it under the rug, wherever, I don't care. The idea makes my blood boil and my stomach churn, I don't want to know.

"What? What could possibly make me change my mind about us? That we can't have sex in the next... year?" I chuckle, trying to ease the tension.

"Oh no. We'll be having lots of sex. I mean, like, looots of it! If there's a moment it really kicks into high gear is now, so I'm counting on your full support on that."

"Okay. I can do that. I'll take one for the team."

"Sure you will," Olivia says with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Then she jerks her chin towards the image. "Look at it again."

Okay. I sit on the stool and lean forward, supporting my elbows on the granite surface and looking at it carefully.

There's Olivia's name. The exam date, 28/October. And a few numbers and letters I have no idea what they are. Measurements, probably. Then there are all these shades. White. Black. Grey. The normal thing, I guess. No. Nothing. I see nothing.

I shrug, staring back at her.

She smiles.

We're both looking down at the image again when she begins to draw something that resembles the infinity symbol with her finger. Always following the contour of the darker shades on the image. Again and again. One ring slightly bigger than the other.

∞

I lock my eyes on her, feeling like I'm the ultimate idiot. I truly don't get it.

"What? We're bonded forever?"

She shakes her head.

"No?"

Her index finger stops tracing that continuous line and begins to swing like a pendulum of one of those wall clocks, from one ring to the other.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Tick. Tack. Tick. Tack.

Oh. God.

Two little dots.

***

Thanks do much for reading! Hope you've enjoyed this chapter :-) And if you did, don't forget to click on that that little * up there ;-) 

xo, Ana