“I don’t think so,” I say slowly, stepping back out of his reach. I can’t have a conversation about having babies with Walker’s hands on my skin.
Putting distance between us does little. I can still feel the warmth of his imprints. The last time he grabbed my hips like this was when he was helping me climb out of his truck a few years ago, when he was taking me home from the hospital after my liver procedure. Crazy how something so fleeting is still seared into my memory.
Those stormy honey brown eyes leer at me some more. “Give me a good reason why not,” he counters in that demanding tone of his, the words gruff, raspy and thick. His bossiness was the root of many arguments during our childhood. But now it doesn’t phase me. It’s just Walker, and for some reason, he can’t control the aggressiveness in his voice.
To be honest, sometimes I even find it a little sexy. Sometimes, the growly man's disapproval is kind of exciting.
But that’s beside the point. Or maybe, that’s exactly my point.
“This would make things weird between us. You’re my best friend. It’d be super weird between us if you fathered my child.”
He shakes his head. “Doesn’t have to be,” he says simply. Like we’re just talking about the weather forecast for the upcoming weekend.
“Walker, you’re my B-F-F,” I explain, cringing a little at the terminology. It’s my go-to when I need to put distance between us. When I need to remind myself that he’s my friend, and nothing more. “We’ve been through so much together. I can’t lose your friendship. Not even over something as important as this.”
“You won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
He shrugs his broad shoulders. “I do.”
“You’re saying that you’d be okay seeing me all the time—with your kid—knowing you don’t have a role in his life?”
He shrugs again, and I’m half-tempted to grab those overly-broad shoulders and shake him. “Why not?”
I throw my hands outward, then let them smack against my legs. “Your two-word responses are really driving me crazy right now,” I say through gritted teeth.
Despite his carefree, indifferent responses to everything I throw at him, I don’t trust the look I see in his eyes.
His lips tell me that he won’t be affected by this. Those dark eyes say otherwise.
They tell me that he's not quite sure. He may think he can lie to me, but I know him well enough to know he’s deluding himself.
There’s a reason for separation of church and state. I’m thinking the separation of friendship and reproduction sounds like a damn good idea, too. This is dangerous ground we’re treading on.
Besides, how is this even going to work? Say Walker actually is fine with it all…What about me? I’ve been in love with this dude for...forever. I'm making a genuine attempt to get over him, so making a baby with him seems counterproductive, to say the least.
He shrugs off my concern in that infuriatingly unbothered way of his. “I’m not a family type of guy. I’ve never even considered being a father. I’ll be fine seeing you with the kid...Is that better than my two-word answers?”
The smart-ass.
His big shoulders rock on his massive exhale. “Look—I promised to help you life the fuck out of your life. I take that promise seriously.”
“Don’t remind me of that…” I bury my face in my palms. "Don't remind me about last night."
When he pulls my hands away from my eyes, he’s smiling. “Penny, I’m dead serious.”
I examine his face. His darkened eyes hold every ounce of sincerity I’d want to see on the face of a man I was about to procreate with.
“I’m not looking for someone to co-parent with,” I warn. I need to make sure he understands what I’m after. He needs to understand how this would work. “I want to do this on my own terms. A single mother. Can you be okay with that?”
I’ve got to draw a clear line in the sand. Walker has a hero complex, at least when it comes to me. He always seems to think I’m his responsibility. He acts like it’s his life’s mission to make sure I don’t screw up mine. Maybe that’s why we never had a shot at hooking up. He still sees me as that pathetic little girl he had to share his tuna sandwich with back in elementary school. But right now, I need him to see me as a grown-ass woman.
"I'm okay with that." He tilts his head. “We can have some paperwork drawn up to make sure I fully follow your requirements. I could hire Cannon's lawyer. Frank is fantastic with unique arrangements like this.”
I don’t know what that means, but I like the idea of making it official. I know I can trust Walker, but maybe I'd feel more comfortable if we have an agreement to point back to.
I start pacing again, avoiding his stare. And again, I'm gnawing on my French manicure.
A baby with the Kingston’ family good looks wouldn’t be so bad. A little boy with Walker’s hard-won smile and my eyes. Or a little girl with ruby hair and Walker’s honey-eyed stare. I can’t deny it. I think we could make a beautiful child together.
Plus, I know this man. He isn’t some faceless stranger. I’d know the personality traits I could expect. I’d know his family health history, and all personal details should that ever become a need. And I’d never have to worry about my child being one of those scary kids in the horror movies...the ones who try and murder their parents in the middle of the night.
Nope. This kid would have some kickass genes.
And knowing all that makes this a little easier.
“Okay,” I say, a slow grin growing across my face, one centimeter at a time.
“Okay?” The corner of his decadent mouth twitches with a smile.
"Yes, okay."
Excitement bubbles beneath the surface. I’m doing this. I’m actually doing this. Not a 'sometime down the line, maybe soon' sort of deal. With my free sperm donation, I have more than enough saved up to get the process started. Now.
“I'll call the clinic and let them know I have a sperm donor then.”
I resist
