The café door chimes, and in walks the unknowing father-to-be. And dammit, he’s even more gorgeous when he’s not dressed as a swashbuckler. He’s got on a long beige sport coat and scarf with a green knitted sweater underneath. Black jeans with matching black boots. His beard is a little longer than it was on Halloween, and his hair is still just as unruly. He waves at me from the doorway as he kicks the snow off his boots, a broad smile overtaking his face. Then he points to the counter, silently asking, do you want anything?
I hold up my mug in response. He throws me a thumbs-up, turning toward the barista to order.
Poor guy has no idea his whole life is about to change.
I realise, suddenly, that I’m the Doctor Salim in this situation. I have to try to remain cool, factual, and compassionate. But shit, I don’t know if I can be. I’m still reeling too. And I’m flustered around him. I’ve run into past hookups accidentally. The city isn’t so big. But I’ve always been able to play it off. This, I certainly can’t play off. There’s nothing cool or casual about this.
Eventually, he makes his way over with a wide-mouthed mug and a plate filled with three different pastries. I grind my teeth, wondering if he’ll wish he’d gotten them to-go.
“I thought we could share these,” Bo says, setting the plate on the table between us. “And, uh, hi,” he chimes warmly, lowering into the seat across from me, unwinding his brown scarf. “This was a pleasant surprise.”
“Hi,” I force out. My voice already has the I’m so sorry lilt to it. “Um, how are you?” I ask.
“I’m okay.” Bo tilts his head and pushes his tongue against the corner of his mouth, eyeing me sceptically.
I can tell I look nervous, so it’s not exactly surprising that he’s already watching me with such concern. My lips are rubbing together against my will, and my eyes are twitching slightly, probably blinking a little too much. Plus, I can’t seem to sit still.
I attempt to force a smile, but I can tell it’s unconvincing when Bo’s eyebrows knit together subtly.
He clears his throat with a fist in front of his mouth and continues. “Work has been busy. Um, it always picks up the closer we get to the holidays. Before we shut down for a little bit. But honestly, er, not much else is going on.” He laughs half-heartedly, studying my expression some more.
“Right,” I agree.
He takes a long sip of his coffee, his eyes darting to my bouncing knee at the side of the table. “Win, are you—”
“I’m pregnant,” I interrupt loudly, all the breath leaving my lungs at the same time the words pass through my lips.
Bo pales instantly. His shoulders fall like he’s forgotten how to support his own weight. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, “I couldn’t hold that in any longer.”
“You’re…” He swallows, looking at the table between us. He raises his hands from his lap and places both palms flat on the table as he hunches over. “Did you say,” he tilts up to look at me, his eyes wide and unblinking, “that… you’re pregnant?”
“Yes. I-I did.”
He nods. Then, again. Then so many times it seems like his neck might be broken. “Okay. All right. Okay. And I, uh, I gather you’re telling me because…” He inhales a long, trembling breath, still nodding to himself.
“Yes. You are,” I answer.
“Wow.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Then he rocks gently in his chair, his palm placed overtop his mouth with his fingers cradling his cheek. “Okay,” he says into his hand. “Okay,” he repeats, dropping it away.
“I know it’s a lot.” Wringing my hands in my lap, I look at the next table over and wonder how many times in my life I’ve sat next to life-altering conversations and remained blissfully unaware. “I’m sorry,” I offer again.
“No, uh, I—” His breath shakes some more as he reaches for his coffee and takes another long sip. “Wow,” he says, swallowing.
“Yeah,” I agree. I look over to the end of the counter and notice a pitcher of water and glassware. “Would you like some water maybe?” I offer. Mostly, I just want to leave the table, even if only for a few seconds.
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Sure. Thanks.”
I stand and pour two glasses, grateful for the momentary distance between myself and the bomb I just dropped. “Here,” I say, placing it in front of him and taking my seat.
He chugs the whole thing in one go. “Shit, sorry. Um, how are you feeling? How are you? How—how are you?”
“I’m okay,” I answer honestly. “I’ve been sick a lot. Nauseous. But I’m okay. We, er, we’re okay.” I place a hand on my belly under the table and out of view from him.
Meet your dad, kid.
“I really didn’t see this coming.” Bo’s eyes finally stop bouncing around the room, and he holds them on me, confusion overtaking him. His whole face droops in concentration. I can practically see his brain replaying our evening together and the exact moment he gets to the missing condoms.
“Neither did I.” I clear my throat. “I… I wasn’t lying when I said I was on the pill.”
“No, I didn’t think that.” His brows furrow as he quickly shakes his head.
“I wasn’t trying to… you know… get knocked up or anything.”
“Right.”
“These things just happen, sometimes.” I shrug, trying to act nonchalant where all I feel is chalant. Very chalant.
Bo rubs two palms down his face, dragging his skin in their path. “So… do we—do we get married?”
“What?” I jump back. “No! What? Why would we get married? We don’t even know each other!”
He sits straighter, blowing out a breath. “Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me just then.”
“The ghost of your great-grandfather, evidently,” I say.
“But then, what do I do? How do I help? What can I—”
“Bo, I’ve decided to keep the baby,” I interrupt. “I don’t expect anything from you, but I will work with you here. However involved you want to be is fine by me, but you should know that I will expect you to stick around if you agree to be in their life. This isn’t going to be a game of hide-and-go-seek father. You want the baby? You also have to be there for the kid, the teenager, and the adult too. Understand?”
That was the only part I rehearsed. It came out slightly different from how I planned, but I do feel a weight lifted having said what I came here to say. At least part of it. The rest, now, is up to him.
“Okay,” he says, his lips slightly parted and his eyes distant once again.
For whatever reason, that perplexing expression on his face slows me. He’s so forlorn—like something even heavier is weighing him down. Heavier than this, somehow. I want to inquire, but it might be none of my business. We’re practically strangers, after all.
Still, sympathy for him builds. He’s handling this relatively well, and from what I know so far, he seems like a good guy. Maybe I was a touch harsh. “You don’t have to decide right now, obviously,” I say gently, attempting to soften the blow.