Dylan's POV

"You don't have to be here you know?" Marie-Anne asks me as we sit inside a clinic. She told me she had a doctor's appointment today and I made sure I picked her up to take her there. We are now sitting inside the clinic, I watch her as she fills in the paperwork. I look around me, a lot of women all of different races, colors, and seems like different stages sit waiting, some filling in paperwork. I am the only man here, it makes me feel awkward.

"I know, I want to be," I reassure her. I may have reacted badly when I found out, but I'm going to make sure I am here for my kid every step of the way including coming to clinics which I absolutely hate. "Why do they ask so many fucking questions?" I ask Marie-Anne. She has been filling out this paperwork for almost ten minutes now. I wish when you came to a doctor, they would just deal with you instead of asking all these stupid questions.

"I don't know," Marie-Anne raises her shoulder. "I'm done," she says setting the clipboard down on her lap. I take the clipboard from her and take it to the nurse at the front desk. "Thanks," I take a seat next to her tapping my nails on my chair's handle out of boredom.

"Marie-Anne Jean?" A nurse comes asking after a few minutes. We both get up and follow the nurse to a room. "Please take a seat, I'll be right back," she says. Marie-Anne takes a seat on the patient's exam table while I stand next to her.

I start to walk around touching everything I can find like a little kid, I open the cabinets checking inside each of them. Marie-Anne shakes her head not believing how childish I'm being, "Dylan, can you please just take a seat?" She asks in her sweet voice.

"Sure," I take a seat on one of the chairs, "so what are they going to do?" I ask Marie-Anne.

"Just check to see if I'm healthy, check my blood pressure, things like that," she informs me, "and the doctor will also check to see if the baby is healthy," she adds. I nod my head telling her I understood.

"Hi, I'm Bertha," the nurse comes back in the room holding a chart. "How are you doing today?" She asks her.

"Good," Marie-Anne answers back.

"That's good," the nurse says, "I'm just going to make everything is going fine with your body, then we can see how the baby is doing." Marie-Anne nods her head, "okay, let's get started then."

''''''''''

"So, why can't they tell the sex?" I ask Marie-Anne as we exit the clinic.

"Because the doctors usually can tell the sex when the baby is sixteen weeks," she tells me. Oh, she means four months. It always confuses me when you ask someone how far along they are in a pregnancy and they tell you the weeks. Why can't they just say the month? Now the person has me doing math in my head which I am not good at to find an answer to a question you could've answered.

We reach my car and I open the door for Marie-Anne, "you want something to eat?" I ask Marie-Anne getting in the driver's seat and starting the car.

"Don't you have to go back to work?" She asks me as we leave the parking lot.

"No, it's fine," I say. I can just try to catch up on some work at home later. "You want pancakes?" I ask her already knowing what she wants to eat. This girl will eat pancakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner without even getting bored of it. I enjoy eating pancakes, however, I do not like it that much.

"Yes, please," she replies. I turn around making my way towards an IHOP, "Dylan?" She calls me.

"What's up?" I ask her.

"Are you sure you're fine with this?" She asks me.

"Yes, I don't mind getting you food."

"No, I mean with all of this," she says making a circle with her hand. "The baby, you know you don't have to be in the kid's life if you don't want to. I'll understand, you never pictured yourself being a dad and you don't ha-"

"Stop right there, I want to okay? I want to be in my kid's life, I want to be a dad, you never know the joy of having a kid until you might have one," I tell her. That's what my mom says. She didn't even like kids until my brother was born. I can't believe I am quoting my mother, she is the last person to take advice from. "And even if I didn't want the kid, don't ever think I'll let you take the responsibility by your self. It takes an egg and sperm to make a kid, not just an egg."

"Thank you." She takes some strands of her hair behind her ears looking like she is thinking away. The car behind me honks reminding me that I am still driving. I drive for a few more minutes turning at the IHOP. I park the car and sit there not moving. I sit there and watch Marie-Anne as she stares at the IHOP in front of her, "I still wonder what does that mean for us."

"What?" I ask her having no idea what she is talking about.

"You know us," she says pointing her index finger at me then at her.

"Well Marie-Anne, it means what you want it to mean," I tell her reaching over and grabbing her chin so she can look at me.

"What do you want it to mean?" She asks me her light eyes staring into my dark ones. I stare back at her not knowing how to answer her question. I honestly don't care, I love her and I want to be with her with a baby or without a baby.

I lean over resting my forehead against hers. I can feel her breath shaking probably fear of being this close to me. Without delaying link our lips together, she doesn't hesitate and kisses me back. She passes her hands through my messy hair as I do the same with her curly dark hair.

Her phone starts to ring making us both pull away out of breath, she takes her phone out of her pocket looking at the caller ID. She frowns answering the phone anyway. "Hey ma," she answers the phone. "I was going to call you back, but I've been a little busy with work," she lies. I still can't believe that people believe her whenever she lies. To bother her I start kissing her neck making her jump every time. "Stop," she says to me taking the phone out of her ear.

"Ma, I don't think my boss will let me get out of town," she lies again. I don't know why she is lying to her mother, she loves her mom. I kiss her neck again and she pushes my head away rolling her eyes at me. "You don't have to," she says. "Ma no," she says sounding frustrated. "Ou pa bezwen vini," I didn't understand a word she said. I look at her shaking my head, why is she speaking another language?

She hangs up the phone letting out a sigh I didn't know she was holding in, "are you okay?" I asked her.

"I told my mom I couldn't come home for Thanksgiving, now she wants to come here for Thanksgiving."

"What's wrong about that? You love your mom,"  tell her. Thanksgiving is a time to be around family and I think if her mother wants to be with her, she should.

"Everything, she doesn't know about this," she says pointing to her stomach. "My mother is going to kill me."

AN

Ou pa bezwen vini= You don't have to come.

Hope you enjoyed...

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