Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2)(25)

"I need you to let me help. There's no reason for you to do this alone." He's taken the car keys from his pocket and he's bouncing them in his hand as he talks. He's back to not looking at me again.

I'm a bit bewildered. He needs me? No one has ever really needed me before. I'm an identical twin and I'm definitely the extra one. Violet is the one you'd pick out. I'm the gift with purchase. Though he really only needs me because I'm the incubator. It's not like he'd have chosen this on purpose. Chosen me.

We continue on to his car, some kind of high-end Land Rover. It occurs to me as he's holding the door for me that he's already better prepared for a baby than I am. I drive a two-door Honda Civic coupé. Can I put a car seat into the back of a coupé? Legally? Logistically? Would the car seat even fit through the door opening with the front seat flipped forward? Would I have to tilt the carrier sideways to wiggle it through with the baby precariously suspended in the carrier?

I need to get a new car.

I have time though. I could trade my car in like the weekend before the baby arrives. No biggie.

I'm not even going to worry about my one-bedroom apartment. The baby is going to be really small for a really long time and I've got room for a crib. I will need my sister to move out though. If she doesn't get her own place before she finds out about this baby she's never going to leave.

On the bright side, my plan of pushing Violet outside of her comfort zone is working like a charm because she's having some kind of torrid affair with a British guy from the tour I sent her on. By torrid I mean they had sex, which is a really big deal for Violet because she's a bit of a prude and I don't think she's ever had sex with anyone who hadn't already pledged to be in love with her.

Anyway.

I'm staring at Kyle's backseat when he slides behind the wheel. It's quite roomy back there. I bet a car seat would fit through the back door with ease. No tilting or accidentally whacking the carrier against the doorframe trying to squeeze it in.

"It's unfair, isn't it?"

Unfair that I'm twenty-six and I'm thinking about the cubic feet of a backseat in terms of car seats and diaper bags instead of sex? Yes. Yes, it is unfair. I sorta doubt that's what Kyle is referring to though, so I turn to face him as he backs out of the parking space. "What's unfair?"

"That you have to do everything."

Hmm, that is unfair. "Go on," I tell him. He really is very attractive. And so much less annoying today than he was yesterday. Plus my overactive hormones are only getting more overactive the more time I spend with him. Seriously, this has got to be the most fucked-up side effect of pregnancy, ever.

"It hardly seems fair that all I contributed to this pregnancy was an orgasm while you're giving up coffee and vomiting and getting covered in goo and gaining fifty pounds."

"Fifty! I've gained like two pounds since you saw me last!"

"I meant total." He shrugs his hands on the steering wheel like that is any better.

"I'm not gaining fifty pounds." I cross my arms across my chest and glare out the passenger window. At least I don't think I am. Right? Fifty sounds like a lot. What if it's more? I really need to start reading ahead in that damn book. I've been so sidetracked from the random bouts of nausea, hiding it from my sister while also convincing her to do the tour in my place while I also brainstormed ideas for getting hold of Kyle, that time has really gotten away from me.

"I misspoke. I'm sure it's not fifty." Kyle's dropped his tone to a very soothing level, as if I'm a feral cat that needs calming. He's so annoying.

"You've seen the size of Tubbs," I point out. "He's ginormous and he weighs seventeen pounds so I'll probably gain less than that. Seventeen must be the maximum possible."

"Okay." He glances at me sideways. "Sure."

"Or maybe less. Tubbs is the size of two normal-sized cats and I'm only having the one baby."

"Okay, relax. I'm not trying to stress you out. I was merely apologizing for biology."

"Hmm," I hum noncommittally. Apparently being vague and moody is who I am now, which is annoying because I used to be even-keeled. Really. Ask anyone. It's why I had to go on the dick diet in the first place. My easy-going nature and have-fun attitude got me into all sorts of fun jams because easy-going people are fun. And low-maintenance.

Now I'm moody and I grunt answers. It wasn't exactly what I was going for when I decided to level up in adulting.

"I'll gain fifty pounds with you, if you want," Kyle offers, bringing my attention back to him.

"Okay, let's not do anything hasty," I say quickly while looking him over. Have I mentioned that he's wearing the hell out of that suit? Objectifying him throughout my pregnancy is kinda like a door prize, right? Staying pretty is the least he can do for me.

Assuming I'm going to be seeing him throughout my pregnancy, that is.

But you know, I bet I could be the responsible twin if I really set my mind to it. And what's more responsible than marrying your baby daddy? I mean, other than not having a baby daddy in the first place, but that ship has sailed.

"Just tell me one thing, Kyle."

"Sure."

"You didn't do this on purpose, right? Knock me up?"