Keefe blinked, watching Sophie with unmoving ice blue eyes. His gaze stayed in her, watching as she chewed on her lower lip.
"Keefe?" she whispered, pulling the white, fluffy towel tighter around her petite body. Well, petite for now - farther into her pregnancy terms, she'd have a swollen abdomen and would probably grow a few inches. Not that he minded her size, not at all, but what was bothering him was. . .
Pregnancy. Sophie was really pregnant.
He wanted to curse at himself for his stupidity. He hadn't wanted a baby at all and Sophie was right.
This is what happens when you have unprotected sex, Keefe.
He ran a hand down his face, exhaling long and slow to calm his spiked nerves. "You're just joking with me, right?" he asked, taking his hand off hide face. "Fitz set you up to this or something to scare me."
Sophie gave an apologetic, half -cringe smile. It was adorable and dorky, but Keefe's stomach still felt sour as she shook her blonde head. "No," she answered softly. "That's why I had that private little house call with Elwin yesterday, at Havenfield. You know, the one you were all worried about?"
He let out another long breath. "Oh. So. . . Do Grady and Edaline know?"
Grady had never been too keen on Keefe, but he didn't hate him. Keefe knew Grady had only been worried about Sophie's protection, and if Keefe was a bad influence on her or would break her heart. But. . . Somehow having to tell Grady that Sophie was pregnant still made him a little nervous.
Much to his relief, she shook her head again, arms crossed over her middle. "Only you and Elwin know."
For now, Keefe thought.
Oh, why did Foster have to be pregnant? It wasn't like he blamed her for it, but. . . A baby. . . Oh my gosh, they were having a baby.
He just couldn't get his head wrapped around the absurd, foreign sentence. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking at his wife. "I. . . Have to go."
He moved past her towards the door to the hallway, glancing back to find Sophie frowning and watching him leave. The wave of choking sadness that rushed over his body, radiating from his wive's, made his eyes mist over with tears, but he ignored them and hurried out of the house.
Air. All he needed was some air.
He got outside of their beautiful estate and leaned over, hands on his knees as he exhaled and inhaled large breaths, taking his time to slow his breathing and quick heart rate.
It wasn't that he didn't want a baby –well, he didn't, but not because he didn't like kids. It would actually be really fun to have a few mini Fosters running around the house. Keefe was just scared. And nervous.
Because if he got a mini troop of Fosters like he wanted with his wife, he'd have to be a dad. He was so nervous that he'd mess up and ruin the kids' lives like his own father had. Cassius hasn't been fully aware of how verbally abusive he had been, so what if Keefe fell into the same trap accidentally? How could he live with himself of he hurt some kids like that? His own kids?
And what if he then accidentally started yelling at Foster like that?
He shuddered just thinking about the way his father had tried to be so controlling.
He could not have this baby with Foster—not at all.
His stomach clenched as he replayed Sophie's hurt she had hurled at him as he'd left the house only a minute ago. He didn't want to hurt Sophie, but he was seriously freaked. He didn't want to deny Foster what she wanted.
He knew somewhere in her she would be the world's greatest mom and that he would be so proud to watch his wife grow a little girl or boy into a man of woman, just as great as her. But. . .
He blew out a full, long breath, staring up at the sky. What was he going to do?
It wasn't like Sophie could just get rid of the baby—maybe put it up for adoption, but. . .
What was he saying? How would he ever convince Sophie to do that?
He eventually snapped out of his daydreams, realizing he had been outside for a few minutes. He was surprised that his wife hadn't yet stormed outside to check up on him, but at the same time, he knew she was respecting his space and boundaries.
He kicked the ground with the tip of his shoe as he made his way towards the door, walking back inside. He didn't see it hear Sophie right away, but he heard some sort of muffled sound.
He took off his shoes and followed it into their living rook, finding Sophie sitting on the couch in a bathrobe. She was hugging a pillow to her chest while watching Spongebob. Keefe had come to learn that she always watched the show whenever she was down.
He'd really messed up.
She turned her eyes back to look at him, a few feet away from the back of the couch. "Hey," she whispered.
Pain erupted in his chest at the intensity of her sad emotions. He spurred up some courage and walked around the couch to the coffee table, grabbing the remote and switching the TV off. Sophie started to protest, but he cut her off by getting down on a knee in front of her. He took her hands in his, intertwining their fingers.
He kissed her knuckles and some of her fingertips before nuzzling his face into her hand. "You know I don't hate you, Foster, right?" he whispered . "And I promise I'm not angry at you. This isn't your fault –it isn't anyone's fault. It isn't bad, I just. . ."
She bit her bottom lip and held back a few tears, taking a hand away from him and holding onto the pillow still against her chest. But she kept the one hand that he rested his cheek lovingly on. "I'm keeping them," she answered. "Whether you want me to or not. And you don't. . . You don't have to help me with the baby if you don't want to. I can keep them with Grady and Edaline most of the time, or something."
He frowned, his heart feeling prickled by slight sadness. "You think I'm gonna let you raise a baby in your own?"
"I just said I'll have Mom and Dad," Sophie mumbled, avoiding eye contact. A traitorous tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with her free hand.
She smushed a bit of her face into the pillow, still not looking at Keefe.
He exhaled lightly. "Foster. . . That's not what's happening here, okay? I'm going to help you with the baby, alright? We're going to keep them and teach them all we know about how to avoid almost dying, and Healing Center visits, and window sleepovers."
That earned him a smile. She sniffled and peeked back over at her husband. "But you don't really want to, Keefe. You're trying to force yourself to do this. Don't do that for me." A little hiccup escaped her lips, making Keefe realize she was holding back from crying.
"Sophie," he said, placing both hands on each side of her arms. He caressed light circles to her skin, leaning up and pressing his forehead against hers. She sniffled and turned her head, facing him completely. Their noses bumped and Sophie could feel his warm breath on her cheeks and lips.
"I'm helping you. I'm raising this kid with you. I'm not just doing this for you–I'm going to do it for us. The only reason I didn't want a baby is because. . . All I want is to be a good father, Sophie. But what if that doesn't happen? I'm just scared I'm going to screw the kid's life up is all."
Like father, like son, he chanted in his head.
He took a hand and placed it on her abdomen lightly. There was barely any baby bump, but there was a firm sort of plumpness that was beginning to form. He managed a sniffle himself.
Sophie grabbed his wrist lovingly, looking him straight in his eyes. She put her other hand behind his neck, making sure their foreheads stayed touching. The pillow was still in between the two, but almost completely forgotten, since it didn't get in the way of their touches of affection or gazes of adoration.
Sophie's lip quivered as she stared at the dark ring of blue around his pupil. "You're going to be a wonderful father. I promise."
Somehow, he knew she meant every word.