Page 104 of Good For Me

“A lot of guys would be relieved,” she goes on. “If there was a chance they might be let off the hook.”

I take her chin between my thumb and finger, tilting her face up so she’s staring right in my eyes. “I’m not on any hook, Jasmine Weaver. I’m right where I want to be.”

“You really want this baby,” she says slowly.

I know that she might not be ready to hear this yet, but I’ll never deny it. “I do,” I say simply.

She lays there for a long moment, just staring at me. I can’t read the expression on her face, and I pray I didn’t just screw everything up, that she doesn’t feel pressured or—

“Why aren’t you more scared?” she finally asks, sounding genuinely curious—and maybe a little jealous.

I let my hands drift away from her face, sliding my fingers down along the soft, smooth line of her body to grip her bare hip, wanting a better hold on her for this conversation. “Iamscared. Terrified. Having a baby is probably the scariest thing I can imagine.”

She shakes her head. “But you want to do it anyway?”

“I do.”

“Why?” she asks again, sounding frustrated. And I get it, what she’s feeling. God, somewhere along the line I came to know this woman so well. In some ways, it feels like maybe I always did. Even before I had any kind of claim to her, I’m pretty sure I knew Jasmine Weaver.

And right now, I know that she’s scared. Scared about the baby and how it will change her life. More than that, scared that she won’t be able to do it, that she’ll be a bad mother. She’s scared to let me in. Scared that having a child will distract her from the course she’s on. That she’ll somehow disappoint her grandfather, even though he’s gone.

And she’s frustrated, too. I sensed that the day we saw the ultrasound. She was frustrated with herself because she didn’t feel it yet. Because she didn’t see that blobby grainy picture and immediately fall in love. She worries it says something, about her ability to mother, that she’s not all in yet.

What she doesn’t get is that it’s okay. She’sgoingto get there. And until then, I’ll be all in enough for both of us.

“You don’t see it yet,” I tell her, clenching my fingers tighter on her hip.

“What don’t I see?” There’s a hint of desperation in her voice, like she’s hoping against hope I might have some answer for her, something that will make it all okay.

“You don’t see us,” I say softly. “The way we’re supposed to be.”

“Me and you?”

I release her hip and slide my hand to her belly, stretching my fingers wide across the bump. I watch her face carefully for signs that she’s uncomfortable. She hasn’t let me touch her like this before, except for that moment when I kissed her stomach before we made love. Now she tenses slightly under my hand, but she doesn’t push me away.

“All three of us. Our family. You don’t see it yet.”

She blinks a few times, her eyes growing wet. “But you do?”

I nod, then kiss her lips. “I see all of it, Jas. We’re going to be good together. Me and you and this baby. We’re going to be happy.”

A tear escapes her eye, sliding down towards her nose before I brush it away with my thumb. “What if I never get there, River?” she whispers, and God, I hate how tortured she sounds. Hate it so much that I have to pull her close, get my arms wrapped around her. I always feel better when she’s pressed against me like this.

Relief swells through me when she nestles her face closer. She’s not pushing me away. We’re talking about some real heavy shit right now. I basically just told her I want us to end up together, that I want the whole deal—a relationship, a kid. I know my girl, and that’s the kind of thing that would normally terrify her.

But she’s not pushing me away right now and that’s a big damn win.

“You’ll get there, baby,” I promise her. “I know you will.”

“Howdo you know?” she asks, voice cracking against my chest.

I press a kiss to the top of her head. “Because I have faith in you. And it’s okay that you don’t see it yet. It’s okay that you’re not sure. I have enough faith for both of us, Jas. Just hang onto me for now, okay?”

For a second, I think she might pull away. But she doesn’t. Instead she wraps her arms around me and hangs on, just like I told her to.

“Okay, River,” she whispers. “Okay.”