Bennett (On the Line Book 2)(50)
“There’s no doubt about it,” Julia said with a laugh. “But we don’t do percentiles for penises or anything.”
“But, if you did . . . his would be up there, wouldn’t it?”
“I imagine so,” she said, meeting my eyes and grinning. “Dr. Chung will be in soon, guys.”
“Wow,” Bennett said, sitting down in a chair along the wall. “We’ve got loads of blue shit to buy now. He’ll need a little Flyers sweater.”
“And we can start talking about names,” I said, resting a hand on my belly.
A youngish Asian woman with a bright smile came in and introduced herself as Dr. Amanda Chung. She spent a while talking about the pregnancy since it was my first visit with her.
“Sono looks good,” she said, clicking through the images on her tablet. “Everything seems to be developing well. So I’ll just see you again in four weeks.”
We said good-bye to her and left, passing the sonogram photos back and forth. Bennett took photos of all of them with his cell phone.
“Hold on,” he said, squinting to look closer at one when we were stopped at a stoplight, “is that his . . . manhood?”
I laughed so hard a snort came out at the end. “Manhood? Have you been reading Harlequin novels or something?”
He shrugged. “What can I say? They make my loins quiver.”
“That’s his arm,” I said, turning to look over my shoulder as we drove through downtown Fenway. “Hey, can we stop at that baby boutique? Do you have time?”
“Sure.”
“So you’re pretty fixated on our son’s genitalia,” I said as he turned the car around.
“I just want to know how he measures up, you know?”
“We’ll love him no matter the size of his anatomy.”
“’Course we will. He can start skating when he’s three.”
I looked over at him. “You want him to play hockey?”
“Yeah. I mean, if he likes it. It’s something I can teach him.”
“And how to fix cars,” I said, reaching for his hand.
“Yep.”
“And how to be a gentleman.”
His eyes softened. “Thank you, Char.”
“You already know you’re a gentleman,” I said as he parked the car.
“Yeah, but this stuff with Liam . . .” He sighed deeply.
“What? You know he’s just being melodramatic.”
“No, I think he genuinely thinks I’m not good enough for you. And at the risk of sounding like a total * . . . it hurts.”
I took his hand in both of mine. “What we have is just ours. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. I love that you’re forward-thinking enough to stay by my side through this without feeling like you have to own me or something.”
“You mean marriage?”
“Yes. Plenty of men would have a shotgun wedding and then not even be there in all the ways the world can’t see. You’re the opposite.”
“Couldn’t we have both?”
He’d parked the car and we sat there in silence. My heart beat erratically as his words sank in.
“What are you saying?”
He turned to face me. “I’m saying maybe we should talk about getting married.”
“No,” I said softly. “Not like this, Bennett. Not just because I’m pregnant. I’ll give the baby your last name.”
“And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I want you to have my last name, too.”
“Because I’m the mother of your son?”
His gaze was warm on me. “Among other reasons, yes.”
I swallowed hard. “Other . . . reasons?”
“Just one, really,” he said softly.
“Oh.” My voice was almost inaudible.
“I love you, Charlotte. And that’s a hard thing for me to do and say. But I do. I love your strength and your smile and your intelligence. I love how you keep me on my toes. It’s never felt as good to make another person happy as it does with you.”
“You make me happy, too. But I’m not ready for marriage.”
His expression fell. I squeezed his hand between mine.
“Just having a baby is a huge life change,” I said. “I think we need to be together longer before we start talking about marriage.”
“Yeah.” He pulled his hand out from between mine. “You’re right. Let’s go in and look here, okay?”
I closed my eyes as he opened his door and got out of the car. I’d hurt him. My throat was tight with emotion. Bennett had never made me feel anything but amazing, and I’d hurt him.
He opened my car door and I met his eyes as I stepped out. I wanted to say something. Something that would make all this awkwardness disappear and bring the warm glimmer back to his eyes.
But I couldn’t. I’d been honest; I wasn’t ready to talk marriage. And he’d asked me not to tell him I loved him unless I knew it was true. As crazy as I was about him, I wasn’t yet sure it was love. It was getting there; that was for sure. But I wanted to know it with my whole heart when I said it. And I would not be like my mother—forcing every relationship into a quick marriage out of fear of being alone.