Page 28 of Anti-Hero (Kensingtons: The Next Generation #2)

Collins looks momentarily startled. Then she shakes her head rapidly.

“Oh. No. That’s not what I—I’m keeping it.

I meant, I have a plan. I’m going to move back to New Haven.

I already applied to some admin jobs at Yale, and I’m touring apartments with my sister next weekend.

My mom offered to watch the … baby over the summer and then a couple of days a week once the fall semester starts, and there’s a day care on campus. I’ll figure it out.”

At first, I’m relieved. So, so relieved.

And then? I’m pissed.

“Your plan is to move ? Two hours away? When were you going to run that terrible idea past me, Collins?”

She glares. “Terrible idea? I’m doing you a favor .”

“What kind of favor is taking my kid away from me?”

“Come on, Kit. Your life is practically an endless party. You take weekend trips to Vegas. You go to fancy galas with champagne and caviar. You sleep with socialites and probably live in a penthouse and fly around in a private jet. I’m not criticizing; I’m stating facts.

You’re young and hot and single and stupid rich.

Why wouldn’t you enjoy it? But you can’t take a break from changing diapers and then go get arrested in Monaco for stealing a yacht?—”

“That happened once , and I was sixteen.”

I’d rather tease her about the hot that slipped out than defend my near criminal record, but that’s not going to earn me any points in the responsible adult column.

I lean closer and continue, “I have a good job. My own place, and the fact that it’s a penthouse just means it has plenty of space. I’m ‘stupid rich,’ as you put it. And I was raised by two amazing parents. Having a few wild years doesn’t make you unqualified to have a kid.”

“I didn’t say it did. But do you know what babies are like? They’re messy and loud and demanding. They’re a permanent responsibility. You can’t possibly want that.”

Wow. When Collins said she expected nothing from me, she truly meant nothing .

“Did I want to have kids? I don’t know. Honestly, I’d never thought about it until Friday.

But we’re not talking about a hypothetical here.

We’re talking about our baby. I’m going to be a dad.

That means I’m going to be a dad. And you should have fucking asked, Collins, before you assumed I wasn’t. ”

“Well, silence and ‘Fuck’ didn’t signify much enthusiasm about the prospect.”

“What’d you do when you found out?” I ask.

There’s a slight quirk to her lips. That tiny upturn fractures the tension a little bit. “I sat on my bathroom floor for two hours.”

“I was shocked, Monty. Not bad shocked. Just … shocked . Telling me to sit was a solid call.”

This time, she gifts me with a full smile. “I know.”

“You told your family?” I ask tentatively.

She must have if she’s made all these plans to move back to Connecticut.

“Yes.”

“How much?”

“The PG version. Although the fact that we had sex was strongly implied.”

I crack a smile. “Do they know I’m part of the we? ”

“No. I just assured them it’s not Isaac’s.”

Our waiter reappears to take our food orders. I haven’t even glanced at the menu, but I’ve eaten here enough that I know exactly what I want.

Collins hasn’t looked at the menu yet either, so she surprises me by saying she’s ready to order.

I frown when she only requests a salad but say nothing until the waiter leaves. “That’s all you want?”

“Yeah. Whoever named it ‘morning’ sickness was in serious denial. Or maybe just lucky. Mine’s more of an all-day sickness.”

My frown deepens. “Is that normal? Did you mention it to your doctor?”

“Yes, and yes. Supposedly, it’ll get better once I’m through the first trimester. I’ll just live on saltines until then.”

I nod, making a mental note to request the break room be stocked with some of the crackers. “Do you want to move home, Collins?”

She plays with her napkin, avoiding my gaze.

“I don’t know. In some ways, it would be easier.

In others, it would feel like backsliding.

I’m going to be a … mom. It’s time to grow up.

Not to move home and rely on my parents.

But the reality is, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

I barely know anyone in New York. And it’s a lot more expensive to live here than?—”

“You don’t have to worry about money, Monty.”

“ You don’t have to worry about money,” she fires back.

“I’m not trying to sound like a rich asshole?—”

“You mean your default setting?” There’s no bite. She’s teasing me.

I hide a smile. “But I have a lot of money. Money I inherited from my parents. Money that my kid will inherit. Since you and the kid are currently the same unit, you have a lot of money.”

“That’s twisted logic.”

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

“I appreciate you apologizing, Kit. And offering to be involved. But you have a clean out here. I’m prepared to do this myself. I’ll sign whatever you want. I’ll never ask you for money—or anything else. No one has to know you’re the father. I’m choosing this. And you can not choose this.”

I reach for my water, pretending to think about it. Part of me is pissed she thinks that’s a decision I’d ever make. The rest of me is determined to do whatever it takes to convince her I want this.

“I’m in,” I state.

Collins swallows. “You can’t say that now and then back out later. I won’t explain to my kid why his or her father is too busy to help with homework or show up at school plays or?—”

“You think our kid will be an aspiring actor? You ran cross-country, and I played lacrosse, so I kinda figured we’d breed another athlete.”

Collins tilts her head, a surprised look on her face. “How did you know I ran cross-country?”

“Even self-absorbed narcissists pay attention to other people sometimes , Monty.”

She rolls her eyes, but some surprise lingers in her expression.

“You already run my calendar. Just block off the next eighteen years.”

“ Kit .”

“I don’t want an out, okay? Not now. Not ever.

My parents had help, but I wasn’t raised by nannies.

I know there’s a lot more to parenting than writing checks.

Kids are expensive, so I’m telling you that you don’t need to stress about money.

That doesn’t mean I won’t be there to watch Sesame break a leg as Hamlet.

Although, hopefully, Dalton Academy will have moved on to a playwright other than Shakespeare by then. ”

She tilts her head. “Sesame?”

“You’re about five weeks along, right? According to the Internet, that means our kid is about the size of a sesame seed.”

Collins glances down suddenly.

I watch as she swipes a hand beneath her left eye, then sniffs once.

“Sorry. Hormones. I just … I kinda figured I’d be doing this myself. Please don’t take that personally. I assumed any guy would run in the opposite direction.”

“You don’t have a lot of faith in men, huh?”

I say it teasingly, but her reply is serious.

“No, I don’t.”

There’s weight—sadness—in those three words. About her ex? Or something else?

“Well, lucky for you, your taste has finally improved.”

She snorts, then reaches for another piece of bread. “Yeah, lucky. We won the surprise pregnancy lottery. Woo-hoo.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Monty,” I state. “And I can’t endorse my entire gender, but you can rely on me.”

Collins chews, not appearing entirely convinced. I guess I should be grateful she’s not shaking her head in disagreement. Baby steps.

“Okay,” she finally says.

“Okay,” I echo.

I suppose agreeing on something is a good start to co-parenting.