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Xavier

The text is still there, glaring up at me from the screen--a stark reminder of all the changes coming. Reading it a dozen times in the last two days hasn't made it lose its impact. It still hits like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from me.

There's so much missing from the brief exchange that it leaves me grappling with the unknown just like it did the day I got it, two weeks ago.

Now, I'm planted at a wobbly table in a too-loud coffee shop, waiting for the only person who can give me answers.

And right now? All I have are questions, with no idea how to face the biggest one of all: How the hell am I supposed to raise a baby?

Two months isn't enough time to prepare for fatherhood--not with the baseball season looming and no support from family.

I skim the text from Kristy, my ex-girlfriend, one more time, looking for something that isn't there.

Kristy:

I'm pregnant.

Xavier:

Congratulations?

Kristy:

It's yours. I'm due in two months.

That's it. That's the whole damn exchange. It may seem callous, but Kristy and I haven't spoken in months, and she made no secret of the fact that she was moving up and on.

That was the last I'd heard from her.

When her text came through, my teammates and I were helping at a massive volunteer fair that Indie, our third baseman's wife, organized to bolster the support of our local nonprofits. It was unexpected, and there were so many questions, but it wasn't exactly a conversation I was eager to have surrounded by strangers.

So, I didn't push for more information despite the shocking due date--how the fuck was I just finding out?

Instead, I finished the event, and when I was home, I called Kristy to make plans to meet and figure all of this out--face to face.

Now, I'm sitting here, with the matcha I know she drinks in front of me, while I wait for her in a random coffee shop. It's dark and dusty, unlike Buns I've never seen her like this before. Even when I ended things, she never let anything but anger show. I reach out to cover her hand with mine, an apology forming. She pulls her hand back, toying with her necklace.

"I'm not ready." Her fingers twist and untwist her necklace, stopping when she realizes what she's doing and dropping her hand. "This isn't how I saw my life playing out, and I wasn't sure what to do."

Her honesty has me pausing before I ask, "And do you know now?"

She rolls her eyes, all the attitude that I'm used to back, like it never left. "What I've wanted never mattered before, but I can see you've gone all mushy over a grainy picture. This baby already means more to you than I ever did."

I won't lie to protect her feelings. "I'm ecstatic about this baby. It wasn't my plan either, but I want a chance to give our little girl the childhood I never had. I know this isn't only my decision, though. It's one we need to make together."

She perks up, leaning closer, her hand drifting back to the table, resting between us. The urge to take it and soothe her is gone. "You would raise this baby with me?"

Alarm bells go off in my head. Taking a drink from my cold brew, I weigh my words.

"We can work out a way to co-parent together." I force a smile that I hope conveys warmth, because the same conniving hope I saw so often towards the end of our relationship glitters in her ice-blue eyes.

"So, not together, " she says too slowly.

"Parenting together, yes." I rub my neck, searching for words to defuse the situation. "But I want to be very clear about where we stand. I'm not interested in a relationship beyond this baby. We can be friends and raise her as a unit, but nothing more."

Her bottom lip pushes out and her arms cross over her chest. "Why the hell not? She's our daughter. You said it yourself, she deserves a chance at a family. Don't I deserve that after all . . . this?" She gestures to her body.

"I will always be grateful to you for giving me a daughter." I hold her gaze. "I'll take care of her, and I'll take care of you too, because I know that's what you're really asking for. But we're not good together. Trying to force this for her sake would only hurt all of us."

I pause, softening my tone as I lean forward. "Take a paternity test, include me in the appointments, and I'll make sure you're both taken care of. I'll help you get your own place, and my lawyer can help us figure out an agreement that works for everyone."

"What's wrong with my apartment?" she scoffs.

"Your roommates don't seem like the kind to tolerate a baby crying in the middle of the night."

Her lip curls like she doesn't like the sound of being woken up, either.

"And what about a nanny?" she asks.

"If you want to keep working, I'll get a nanny to help during the season."

Her lips pucker, souring her face further. "You expect me to work?"

"That's not what I said." The pressure in my head builds, and I press my temples to reveal the ache.

"You said, if I want help, I have to work. I'm not an idiot."

"Kristy," I bark. Nothing has changed since she left, and the back and forth is making me weary. To her, this baby is a pawn to get the lifestyle I wouldn't give her when we were still together. "You will not use this baby to manipulate me."

"Whatever, Xavier." She stands, pushing back from the table to leave.

"Where are you going?" I move to follow her because this conversation is nowhere near over.

"To my apartment. I'm tired, and you're not helping." She stops short of the door and when she looks up, I can see it. The dark circles are covered by her makeup, but it can't hide the dullness in her blue irises. Behind the mask, she's struggling.

And I don't want to make it worse. "Should I have a realtor look for a place for you near my house?"

"Yes, fine. Send me the listings and I'll let you know what I like."

"We're doing this, then?" I ask, fighting the rise of my mouth.

"Don't look so damn happy. I still have to grow this kid for the next two months. Not to mention everything after . . ."

I reach out carefully, my hand brushing her elbow. Her cold blue gaze meets mine, full of pain and distrust. "If you don't want to raise her, that's okay. I can do this on my own."

Her laugh is bitter. "And then what? All your promises to take care of me go up in smoke?" Her voice rises and I glance around, relieved the coffee shop is mostly empty. "Not a chance. You do your part, and I'll do mine."

This is not how I imagined myself becoming a dad. I thought it would happen after retirement, with someone who wanted it as much as I did. This is going to be messy. Kristy's body is stiff as she waits for me to hit back, but I won't. "I never meant to hurt you. We'll figure this out."

"Don't give me that savior bullshit. I know you, Xavier. We're the same. We both came from nothing and I'm not fucking going back. Call the agent, send me the houses. We can both get what we want and at least this time I won't have to pretend to find you interesting."

Tirade finished, she yanks her arm free, her ponytail lashing angrily as she opens the door and walks away again. Only this time, despite her exit and us not being together, she's a permanent part of my life.