Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,46
the doorbell rings. When I check the app, I see Edward waiting.
“I’ll get it,” Nate announces, handing me the wooden spoon he’s holding and turning down the flame.
I take a sip of my ginger seltzer as I watch the door.
“Can I help you?” he asks, swinging the door open. Brock walks toward them and growls at Edward.
I swear, Nate pats him the same way he does when he’s done something good. They are a pair.
“I’m looking for Nyx Brassard,” Edward’s voice is somehow louder than usual but squeakier too.
Is he afraid of the dog? Brock attacks people with love.
“And you are?” Nate questions with a growl that sounds pretty similar to the tone Brock just used a few seconds ago.
I hold the laughter.
“Edward Bryant. She’s expecting me.”
Nate moves and I walk toward the living room area. Having an open house has its advantages and disadvantages. Anyone can see everything from almost every angle. It’s aesthetic, but I have to keep the kitchen clean all the time. When I leave dishes around the house, the place looks messy, or maybe it’s me. I’m too anal.
This is going to serve me well with a baby. With my luck it’s going to be as messy as Eros and Persy.
“Edward,” I greet him. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Edward looks at the seltzer bottle I hold and says, “No, thank you, I don’t have much time. What do you need?”
Nate stands right next to me, takes the spoon and the seltzer, freeing my hands. “Go ahead. I’m here if you need me.”
I nod and wait until he moves, but he doesn’t. Shoving my hands in the back of my jeans pockets I look at Edward and say it, “I’m pregnant,” pausing and taking a deep breath I add, “And by the way it’s yours.”
He gasps, takes a step back and shakes his head. “No, that’s impossible. We used a condom.”
His gaze is focused on the floor and then when he lifts his chin, he accuses me, “They were yours. You poked them so you could—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” I say, grabbing the documents Pierce prepared for me and handing them to him. “As I was saying, I am pregnant. I plan on keeping this baby. However, I don’t expect anything from you. You can decide how involved you want to be. If you plan on being in the life of my baby, you have to commit one hundred percent. It’s not a today I’m in and tomorrow I’m out. Children need consistency.”
He stares at me and then at the papers. Nate turns around and marches to the kitchen. I wait while Ed reads each page and sighs.
“You can’t spring this on me and demand an immediate answer. How do I know if this baby is mine and not his?” He points toward the kitchen.
I laugh. “He’s a friend. I’ve never had sex with him so him being the father would be a miracle.”
He huffs, walks around in circles and then stands up in front of me. “So, I can see the baby, but you don’t need child support?
“Actually, if you want to have rights, you’ll have to have obligations too,” I warn him. “I don’t expect you to support the kid entirely, but if you want to have visitations, share custody or have any relationship with her, I expect you to provide for the baby too.”
He scrunches his face in disgust and says, “It’s a she?”
I place a hand on my flat belly and snap, “It’s too early to know if it’s a boy or a girl, but if you’ll be making a decision based on gender, you can just sign those papers and be done with this. My kid won’t be raised by some misogynistic man.”
He glares at me, puffs his chest and before he can say anything, Nate speaks, “I’d be careful with my next words if I were you.”
Edward exhales harshly, and says, “I need a paternity test and time before I make any decision.”
“If there’s a non-invasive test before the baby is born, I’ll get that done. It could be easier if you just sign the papers,” I advise because it’s apparent that we’re going to have more problems than I anticipated.
He stares at the papers, then at Nate, and finally at me. “Easier for you,” he states. “What if this is my only chance to be a father? Maybe I’ll fight you for custody.”
“Maybe it is time for you to leave because you’re pissing me