Page 21 of Reticent

I love hearing him say that. But whenever I imagined my future as a mom, I saw myself married to the father. Words like joint custody, lawyers, and child support were nonfactors.

“I prefer it if we arrange things between just the two of us before involving lawyers,” I say. “After we come to an agreement, we can have it put in writing. And if we disagree on something, we can involve our lawyers earlier in the process to help mediate. My job offers free legal counseling.” Free legal counseling. I feel so out of my league right now.

“I’m okay with that. Where do you work?”

“For a marketing firm.”

“What do you do there?”

“I’m an admin.”

He nods, concentrating on the task at hand as he secures two crib slats together. “How old are you, Yasmine?”

His question is casual enough, but I can tell there’s something behind it. And when I don’t answer him immediately, he looks up at me with a hint of curiosity and maybe even a little concern in his eyes.

“I’m legal, if that’s what you’re worried about.” With my hair pulled back and my face free of makeup, I barely look nineteen.

“I know you’re legal. But by how many years? You looked older that night.”

“That was the point.” I mean it as a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. “I’m twenty-three.”

Surprise crosses his face, followed by relief before he schools his expression back to its usual impassivity. He’s probably surprised that I’m in my early twenties but relieved that I’m not at the tail end of my teenage years.

“I’m assuming you know how old I am,” he says.

“Thirty-one.”

“I am.”

“Well, regarding child support, daycare will be my biggest expense. If you want to help with that, that’ll be huge. But you don’t have to,” I quickly add. “I’m not expecting anything. I just thought you should know.”

“I’ll take care of it. And if you don’t want to go back to work, you don’t have to.”

“I … don’t understand.” But don’t I? Given his lifestyle and family background, he has the means to provide for us. But I can’t let him support me. There has to be limits on what he pays for. I’m not sure what that looks like, but I’m not his wife or girlfriend. And I’m not one of those women looking to be kept.

Hunter puts down the pieces he’s working on and looks me fully in the face. “You don’t have to worry about money. I’ll take care of you.”

“I appreciate your generosity, but that’s unnecessary. I’ll keep my job.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” I mean, not really. But I’ve worked since I was fifteen years old. It’s all I know.

“We’ll figure out the rest.”

“We will,” I agree, feeling satisfied with what we’ve accomplished so far. It’s progress. Trying to navigate coparenting with someone you don’t know is like walking through a minefield.

Chapter Ten

The crib looks as nice as it did in the pictures. It takes up more space than I thought it would, but that’s what I get for not checking the dimensions on the box. I can’t help but smile as I stare at the bare mattress, picturing my baby boy sleeping there.

Hunter secures the crib mobile onto the railing and turns it on. A lullaby plays as the dangling animals spin overhead. He then moves to stand beside me, his attention also on the bare mattress. I wonder if he’s imagining the same thing.

“I’ll need to get a crib for both of my places.”

“Places?” I ask before remembering the two addresses Aria gave me in the “all things Hunter” manila envelope. I’ve since shredded all its contents because of the intrusiveness.

“My apartment and my houseboat.”