Page 6 of Only a Gemini Will Do

He stared me down as if he’d been collecting the missing pieces to my puzzle and piecing it together since the moment I arrived. “You’re pregnant.”

Silence.

Deafening silence.

I hadn’t even opened my mouth, and somehow, Kareem had seen right through me like I was transparent. Every movement, every choice I’d made since stepping into his presence—he’d read like a fucking map.

My eyes welled up with tears as I nodded. “Yes.”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Just continued to stare. “Is it mine?”

I nodded again. That time, Kareem leaned back in his chair, exhaling as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time.

My hands trembled as I reached for my bottled water again, suddenly thirsty as hell all over again. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t even know if I should. But I couldn’t keep it from you. Not after I got that ticket in the mail.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yeah, Kareem. I’m serious.”

A few more beats of silence passed between us before he spoke again. “Okay.”

I studied him. I didn’t know what type of response I expected, but one word wasn’t it. “That’s all you have to say?”

Kareem drew in a deep breath before exhaling slowly. “There are a lot of things swirling around in a nigga’s head right now, and I’m not trying to say the wrong thing.”

“Which is?”

His eyes stood guard, watching me with raw authenticity. “That I wish I’d sent that ticket to you sooner. That I wish I’d been there when you found out. That I don’t know what type of father I’ll be, but I’m here. You got me.”

Hearing his words made me feel an odd fusion of relief and terror. I was relieved that the secret was out, and I wasn’t alone. But that terror? It was real—embedded under my skin like a permanent tattoo. Kareem was a felon on the run. What would happen if our glimpse of a happily ever after turned into a nightmare?

My eyes traveled from his expression down to his hand resting on the edge of the table. He hadn’t reached for me yet, and I hadn’t reached for him. Instead, I went into my purse and pulled out the folded sonogram. I paused for a second before sliding it across the table.

“Here. I didn’t want it just to be words.”

I watched Kareem slowly unfold and stare at the grainy, black-and-white image. In the center was a tiny, baby-shaped figure curled up, floating in the darkness of my womb. He stared at it for a while, silent as he held it like a glass egg in his calloused hands. Kareem didn’t blink. He studied it as if he was trying to commit everything about it to memory.

“Wow . . . We made a whole kid,” he muttered, his voice low, almost awed.

I bobbed my head. “Crazy, right?”

“I’ve done a lot of shit in my life,” he acknowledged. “Some of it I regret, others I’d do again. But this . . . I don’t know, shawty. This hits different, like the first thing that’s ever made perfect sense to a nigga.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. What made you wanna keep it?”

I paused. “I-I don’t know. I mean, I won’t lie and say the thought didn’t skip past my mind, but I knew I couldn’t go through with something like that. Are you mad that I did?”

“Nah. If I had to have a kid with anybody, I’m glad it’s you.”

He finally set the sonogram back on the table and exhaled slowly and deeply. Then he looked at me in a way that revealed the vulnerability behind his eyes.

“You wanna know something?” he quizzed, his gaze fixed on mine.

“Yeah.”

“When I sent you that ticket, there was a part of me that didn’t think you’d come.”