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in my short hair.

“Haven’t been that careless since my much younger years,” he murmurs, his mouth close to my ear. “Never without a condom in the past twenty-odd years. Last physical was a year ago but I’ll happily get tested to put your mind at ease.”

Jesus. He’s talking about STDs.

I’m thirty-five years old, never been one to sleep around, a sexually transmitted disease hadn’t even occurred to me yet. I was too preoccupied with the possibility of a pregnancy.

“What about pregnancy?” I broach, turning to face him.

He looks shocked before glancing over his shoulder at the sink.

“Aren’t you on the pill?”

“Wasn’t for a while and just started up again last Saturday,” I admit. “I’m not sure that’s long enough for it to be effective.”

His face blanks as he runs an agitated hand through his wet hair.

“Fuck!”

His voice echoes off the tile in the confined space.

I immediately turn my back and slip out of the tub at the other end, dripping water and soap all over the floor. He doesn’t try to stop me and surprisingly, that upsets me more than anything else.

The shower is still running when I pass the bathroom door a few minutes later on my way to a much-needed cup of coffee. I’m dressed in jeans and a shirt that can handle a bit of dirt for the move. I’ll pack up my sparse belongings from the bedroom and bathroom when he is gone.

I’m just pouring a cup when he comes walking out, shirtless and barefoot, with his jeans hanging off his hips.

“Coffee?” I ask, turning my back as I reach for another cup.

I’m trying to be gracious when I really want to scream.

“Fee…”

“Black, right?”

“Please look at me, babe.”

I set the coffee pot back, steel myself, and turn around.

I can handle this. I’m thirty-five, I can handle anything, and I don’t need anyone.

The words run like a mantra through my head as I try to look him in the eye without flinching, bracing myself for what’s to come.

Because despite the fact we are fresh out of the gate, are still getting to know each other, and this would be horrible timing, part of me hopes.

When Kelsey was expecting Finn, I started hearing the occasional faint ticking of my own biological clock. Pregnancy was nowhere in my immediate plans, but if I turn out to be I’d consider it a welcome—albeit untimely—surprise, and nothing Tse may have to say is going to change that.

“We’ll deal.”

It takes me a second to process what he’s saying.

“We’ll…what?”

His hands land heavy on my shoulders.

“Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”

“I’m not getting rid of it,” I snap, shaking my head.

“Wouldn’t ask you to,” he responds instantly. “I’m not gonna lie though, never saw that in my future. But then again, it’s not the first time my life’s taken an unexpected turn.” He cups my face in his hands. “And so far I’m not complaining.” He brushes his thumbs under my eyes, clearing tears I wasn’t aware I was crying. “So, my beautiful Fee, whatever happens, we’ll deal. Yeah?”

I nod, my voice stuck behind the lump in my throat.

“Yeah,” I finally manage, sounding as raw as I feel.

Tse

I think I’m still in a state of shock.

Christ.

When you come with a background like mine, the possibility of becoming a parent is not exactly at the forefront of your mind. If anything, my kind of childhood is an automatic deterrent for procreation.

I’m probably the least equipped for parenting. Oh, I’ve seen my brothers take to it like fish to water—most of them no younger than I am—but now the possibility exists, I just can’t see myself in that role.

Still, I meant what I said to Sophia: we’ll deal. That’s one thing I do know, if she ends up pregnant, there is no way I will abandon her or our child. By God, I’ll do everything I can to be a better parent than the ones I had.

“I think the truck is here,” Sophia calls from the sliding door.

We got here a few hours ago. I ended up grabbing one of the club’s trucks—mine still has all my tools in the back—and easily hauled her stuff here in two loads. In addition to her things from the apartment, she also had some boxes stored in Sandra’s garage. Including a new bed, which we put together earlier.

I left her to unpack her stuff and went outside to split some of the wood I saw stacked against the side of the house. It’s summer and not likely she’ll need the wood-burning stove this time of year, but I’m thinking there’s a good spot to build a nice firepit right off the deck.

It’s a nice place, exposed beams, big windows, great views, new deck, but it’s missing a grill, which I’m planning to pick up tomorrow when she’s back at work.

Instead of going through the house, I head around the side just as the large truck is backing down the driveway.

Two guys climb down; the one with the clipboard coming straight for me while the other opens the swing doors.

“Mr. Vieira?”

I look over at Sophia, who folds her arms over her chest, and I can almost hear her foot tapping.

“Not me. But Ms. Vieira is standing right there.”

I point at Sophia, whose eyes are shooting darts by now, and the guy moves a little hesitantly in her direction. I have a hard time not laughing at his expense. The burly mover has the good sense to apologize right off the bat. Always a good idea.

When it looks like they’ve made their peace and the guy with the clipboard—his name turns out to be Bert—joins his partner at the back of the truck, I walk up to Sophia.

“Where do you want me?”

“I thought as the stuff comes off the truck, I’d tell them where it goes, if you could point them in the right direction inside?”

“Sure thing.”

I start moving to the front door when she calls out.

“Hey, Tse? Thanks.”

“Any time, Fee.”

It doesn’t take long for the guys to unload the truck

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