Free Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1) by Raven St. Pierre Page B

to have kids, I imagined it would be with my wife, or at least someone I was committed to. How in the hell was I supposed to be there for Brynn through that and we didn’t even have a basic connection? None of this felt right.
    “Just quit talkin’, Carlos. Looks like you’re scaring him,” Justin said with a laugh.
    They continued to discuss my life, but I checked out of the conversation, trying to contemplate my next move, trying to sort out the details. However, before I could work through any of it on my own, I needed to clear the air with Brynn. With me just finding out all of this was legit roughly twenty-four hours ago, we hadn’t had a chance to talk things through.
    Just like I had questions and concerns, I was sure she did, too, and the easiest way to keep confusion down was to keep the lines of communication open.
    We had to.
    I refused to have drama between us and besides, in her condition, she didn’t need that either. And whether I liked it or not, Brynn, for obvious reasons, was now my number one priority.
    Period.
    This may not have been an ideal situation, but I wasn’t about to be a deadbeat. Not having the best relationship with my father growing up taught me a valuable lesson, a very simple one that I’d never forget: be there for your kid .
    No matter what.
    No excuses.
    *****
    Brynn
    “ Dammit! ”
    One peek through the peephole when someone knocked sent me into cleaning hyper-drive. I scrambled to rid my coffee table of the half-empty bottle of ginger ale I downed to settle my stomach and my Sex in the City DVDs. After submitting a few resumes online in an effort to stay ahead of the curve if my job situation went sour, I let myself veg out in front of the TV. I needed a mental break, so to say this had been a lazy Saturday was an understatement.
    Yesterday—my first appointment with Marco present—had been stressful. Having a stranger in the room while Dr. Rubino and I spoke in detail about the horror of first-trimester pregnancy was… strange. However, I knew I’d have to get used to it; if he was planning to be at other appointments, that is. For all I knew, he only made his way to this one to find out the test results. Who knows…
    I wasn’t expecting company today so I hadn’t bothered getting out of my PJs, hence the reason I damn-near fell trying to hop into a pair of jeans. Nothing fit like it used to, so this was nothing short of a struggle. This was the very reason I’d been wearing a lot of stretch pants lately.
    “Coming,” I called out, letting Naseem know I was on my way. A warning phone call would’ve been nice, but given our current status— limbo— I wasn’t about to make a big deal of it.
    Smoothing my hair down one last time, I finally opened the door. On the other side of it, I stared into a very stoic, very somber set of eyes. The look behind them made me uncomfortable, led me to believe that my confession had changed us forever. I mean, yeah, I knew whatever chances we had at a relationship were dead in the water, but… I didn’t think it was too much to want my friend back. Perhaps this was all just a big, cosmic sign that all Naseem and I were ever meant to be were friends.
    “May I come in?” he asked, faint tones of his native dialect present in his sullen voice.
    I stepped aside and gestured with my hand, closing the door behind him. My palms were sweating and my heart fluttered like hummingbird wings inside my chest. Communication had been minimal since telling him I was expecting. There was still only the one stray text exchanged between us. That was a far cry from our daily phone calls back and forth to one another and even messages throughout the workday.
    “How are things?” he asked, taking a seat on the couch.
    I nodded and eased down at the opposite end, clasping my hands in my lap before responding. “Good. Things are good.” That may or may not have been a lie; I wasn’t sure, but it was the first answer that came to my frazzled