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Once we’re both through the door to her apartment with it closed soundly behind us, she whirls on me and glares.

“What are you doing here Warren? Shouldn’t you be out on your boat somewhere?”

“No. Where I need to be is right here with you andourbaby.”

That has her biting her lips and protectively holding her stomach. I’m not sure if it’s a reflex or if she really thinks I would do anything to hurt her or him.

“It’s not your baby,” she argues, weakly.

I try not to make too much of a,do you think I’m an idiot? face, but I can’t stop it completely. “Everyone in town might fall for that lie but I know the truth. I know you Bambi, and I also know we didn’t use any protection. That’s my baby as much as he is yours.”

I look down at her belly and feel my expression soften. I had never planned on having kids. Being raised by my parent’s kind of put me off the idea, but seeing her now round and swollen, something in me warms. That cold bitter place formed from the unhappy memories of my childhood thaws and melts away to make room for something new. Something warm and molten.

“How did you find out?” Her voice is small and quiet, and she sounds like she was hoping I’d never find out. My eyes slide up to hers, warm liquid amber with a dark green outer rim, swelling with tears.

“Owen.”

“Fucking Owen. Can’t keep his mouth shut for two minutes.”

“I’m glad he couldn’t.”

One singular tear rolls down her cheek and she blinks rapidly trying to stop the rest from falling. I can’t stand to see her cry, never could. I reach out and brush away the tear. I take it as a good sign that she doesn’t swat my hand away, so I press my luck.

Stepping closer to her and I cup both her cheeks in my hands. Her eyes instantly close and she leans into my touch. One hand reaching up to press against mine, sandwiching it between her palm and cheek.

“Please don’t cry, Bambi. You know I hate it when you cry.”

“Sorry. I can’t control it. The hormones make me cry over everything recently. A few days ago I cried because I ate a piece of pie that tasted good.”

I take a cautious step closer, almost close enough her belly bumps against mine. Leaning down I press my forehead to hers in a soothing motion, hoping to staunch her tears. She takes in a shuddering breath and allows me to comfort her, and myself.

The touch of her skin in my palms soothes more than her crying, but also the tangle of knots tied in my chest that starts to unravel, just a little.

“I thought you were never coming back,” she admits quietly as we stand together.

I lean away to look her in her glistening eyes, rubbing away more fallen tears with my thumbs.

“If you had told me you were pregnant, I would have returned months ago.”

And it’s true. No matter where I was in the world, who I was with, what I was doing or the cost of returning, I would have done it in a heartbeat. As it was, my soul was already crying out for my return. I was just too deaf to hear it.

“I couldn’t,” she admits, dropping her eyes to my chest. “This isn’t what you wanted. You wanted to travel and find a new life somewhere more exciting. This is literally the opposite of what you want. Trapped in a suffocating town, stuck with a pregnant girl you never wanted.”

I growl in frustration, lifting her chin with a crooked finger, forcing her to look me in the eye. I want her to believe every word that comes out of my mouth.

“I never said I didn’t want you, Bambi.”

I think she believes me. She sucks in a surprised breath but doesn’t pull away.

“But you also didn’t stay. I wasn’t enough.”

God fucking damn it.What kind of moron am I to have made her think so little of herself? She’s everything to me, without her I’m sure I would have died long ago. Though I never told her that. Maybe it’s time I explain my tattoo to her.

“You’ve always been enough, Bambi. I was the one who wasn’t worthy.”

Pulling out of her hold I pull my hoodie off over my head, my beanie catching on the material and pulling off with the sweatshirt. I toss it to the ground and reach for the hem of my shirt. Bambi’s eyes go wide but don’t look away. I preen a little at that.

“What are you doing?”