Page 92 of Resisting Isaac

His thumb moves over the bone just below my ankle. “Little late for that, sweetheart.”

I look away. It’s not shame I’m feeling exactly. But it’s something close. That gnawing thing in my chest that reminds me I’ve spent years convincing myself I could do it all on my own but suddenly I’m not so sure.

If I’m only responsible for myself, I can do it alone. I can live on freeze-dried noodles and next to nothing. I’ve done it. But now that I’m carrying the life of someone else, everything is different. My struggle will be his or her struggle.

I feel like this is a failure somehow. All through high school, I worked so hard, but no scholarships came my way. When I got into acting school, I worked three jobs to pay for it. Modeling, waitressing, cleaning houses.

Now here I am, risking losing everything I’ve worked for because one hot encounter with a cowboy ended with me pregnant.

The unwed part is going to kill my parents. I’ve practiced telling them a hundred times in my head.

It never goes well.

“I just meant I didn’t get pregnant on purpose to trap you or anything. I’ve built a life. A career. All on my own. I can handle this on my own, too.”

Maybe if I say it enough times it will be true.

As long as they don’t fire me from this role, I’ll be able to care for myself and a child. Maybe it won’t be a fancy life, but it will be a secure one.

“I know you can,” he says easily. “Doesn’t mean you should have to.”

“After filming on this series wraps, I don’t have anything else lined up for a while. But that could change. I’ll have togo wherever the work is. That’s part of my job. I travel. A lot.”

He nods. “So do rodeo cowboys, military personnel, and musicians. People figure it out. Raise children together in all types of situations.”

My mind catches on thetogetherpart.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Right, well, I don’t know how thetogetherpart factors in for us, but I’m not going to give this baby up for adoption or anything else. And I’d never deny you the right to be in his or her life if you want that.”

“I want that,” he offers quickly. “I very much want that.”

Relief loosens the tension in my chest. I wasn’t sure if he would want that or how I’d feel about it if he did or didn’t. But knowing he does makes it easier to breathe.

He shifts in his seat, lifts my foot gently into his lap, and starts rubbing slow, perfect circles into the arch with his thumb.

I hate how good it feels. But not enough to stop him.

“I don’t want you to give up your dreams. Or miss out on opportunities in your career because we’re going to be parents. That’s the beauty of it being the two of us. And this place”—he gestures to the house behind us, the river beyond the railing—“makes a damn good home base.”

A lump rises in my throat.

“Home base,” I repeat. “Are you saying I should move here?”

“I’m not asking for a ring,” he adds with a wink. “You’ll propose when you’re ready. I know you’re not. Not right now. I’m not asking for anything except honesty. And a chance. I know this isn’t what either of us probably pictured, but I can’t say I’m upset about knowing you’ll still be in my life after filming ends.”

I meet his eyes. He’s playful, like always. But the emotion in his stare is serious. Real.

“That’s something you wanted? Me in your life?”

He nods. “Yeah. It is. Long before I knew we were pregnant.”

Maybe it’s my hormones, but I love that he says we. Like I’m not alone. Like he plans to go through this with me. As much as he can at least.

It makes me want to both run away and crawl into his lap at the same time.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I confess. “I don’t know if living here, or near here, is something I could manage long term.”

He nods. “Maybe we just plan in the short term then. Baby steps.”