This time while he's running late, at least she's at a familiar place, she's at one of her favorite diners and there's a warm spread of food -a grilled cheese, tomato soup, onion rings, a mug of hot chocolate and a glass of ice-cold water- in front of her. She ordered the water only for visual purposes, it made her meal appear to be a little healthier than it would have without it. She doesn't know if he's going to be hungry, she doesn't even know what he likes to eat, but maybe if he showed up on time then he would have been here when she placed her order and she would actually know what he likes to indulge in. But, he's late. It's a pattern. And she's off from work today, and from his text message she gathers that he is too, yet he's late.

It's after she allows her hot chocolate to cool off until it's lukewarm that he decides to arrive, rushing by her fast enough to spark a slight breeze in the air. He slides into the booth, moving until he's directly across from her, and after swallowing the chocolatey confection, she tells him, "You're late." …as if he didn't already know.

"Sorry, I overslept," and he looks like it; he looks pretty rough; indented lines on his face that probably came from his crumpled pillow, his hair looks like he's been running his hand through it quite frequently and his clothes are a bit disheveled, "I went to bed late. I couldn't sleep. I just kept thinking about what is in that envelope," he nods towards the sealed envelope she has resting in the middle of the yellow table.

"I ordered food," she states the obvious, "I was hungry."

He looks down at her spread, and he grins, "I see. Did you happen to order me something?"

"No, I don't know what you like, but you're welcome to have some of mine."

Erin doesn't expect him to take her up on her offer; she was just being nice, she didn't actually mean that she would share her food, but when he reaches across and grabs a few of her onion rings, it takes everything in her not to swat his hand away. Of all the things he wants, it's her onion rings, she'd give him her sandwich and soup before her onion rings. But, she hardly knows the man and she's not trying to come across as some crazy woman who gets upset over food. He eats the onion rings slowly, smirking when he sees her pull the plate of onion rings closer to herself as a way of telling -but not telling- him he cannot have anymore.

He waves down the waiter, orders her another basket of onion rings before putting in his order -water, bacon cheeseburger and fries- a meal fit for a king. She ponders, tapping the onion ring against her bottom lip as she thinks and voices her question at the same time, "Is that your favorite food?" She questions in reference to the meal he just ordered.

"I don't really think I have a favorite food," he pulls out his cell to sit it on the table, sliding it to the side with the screen facing up just in case he gets a message, "I like a little bit of everything. What about you? Is onion rings your favorite food?" He nods towards the plate that she's been favoring over the bowl of tomato soup and the plate with her partially eaten grilled cheese.

She laughs, dropping the onion ring back onto her plate, only frowning slightly when it lands in the ketchup she squirted in the corner. It's obvious he picked up on how she felt about him taking her onion ring, it's pretty funny though, because she's always been serious about her food but never that serious, "Before I got pregnant, I didn't eat onion rings as much. Now I love them and can't seem to get enough of them, but I still don't eat them as much as I would prefer because I have a best friend and a mother who always seem to conveniently check in on me when it's time for me to eat. I'm more of a savory food person than sweet even though I'm currently drinking hot chocolate, I don't eat sweets too often." As if to emphasize her point, she lifts her hot chocolate and takes a small sip before sitting it back down to pay more attention to her soup and sandwich.

"Same for me. I like savory over sweet too."

Something in common, something they maybe can use as a topic of discussion in the future when that inevitable awkward silence overtakes them like it always seems to do.

"Oh, I also love spicy food too but I don't think the baby likes it very much because every time I eat something spicy, I always get heartburn. The baby already knows what it likes and dislikes and it doesn't even actually look like a baby yet."

And suddenly, Jay is reminded about why he is even here in the first place. His eyes can't fall to her stomach because the table is blocking it. He knows she's pregnant but looking at her, you can't tell. And getting lost in a conversation about food made him all of a sudden forget. He knows he would have eventually remembered because the only reason Erin is in his life right now, the only reason he's having lunch with her right now, and the only reason why he has her number programmed into his phone right now is because of the baby she's carrying. That's it. That's all.

His eyes fall towards the sealed envelope in the center of the table and her eyes follow his, landing on the envelope with her name printed on the front. He hears her call his name but he's too out of it to answer, he's too focused on staring at the envelope, it's like he's trying to read through the barrier of the envelope, to read the results himself, but he doesn't have x-ray vision. He can't see the answer no matter how hard he stares at the envelope.

"Jay," he sees her hand, her nails painted a clear color and nicely cut down, as she lifts the envelope, "We can read the results now if you would like," she starts to open the envelope even though he hasn't given an answer yet, "or we can wait until after we finish eating."

"I don't think I can wait a second longer. I need to know."

A part of her is curious about why he didn't open it the second he arrived, why did he even entertain a conversation about their favorite foods when he seems so hellbent on knowing, but she's not in his head, she doesn't have access to it, so she doesn't know that it slipped from his mind, that his thoughts have all been jumbled up with work, Abby and the fact that he's keeping in contact with Erin behind his girlfriend's back. She doesn't know is conscious is tearing him apart. And she doesn't know him enough to ask him about it.

So instead, silently, she nods her nod as she peels back the envelope and start to slide the folded paper out, a paper that will determine the rest of his future. A measly piece of paper that can be easily torn and shredded will now be the decider on how his life will play out. He needs to know, but it feels like she's taking forever to open the damn envelope. It's all happening in slow motion, at least that's what it feels like to him, the way her fingers draw along the ridge to tear the envelope open in careful precision as if she's cautious of not getting a papercut, the way she pulled the piece of paper out and the way she's unfolding it has him growing anxious with every passing second.

His leg won't stop shaking.

He's fidgeting in his seat.

He desperately wants to pace and he would if it weren't for them being in a public space.

She knows he's nervous, and a part of her wishes she had brought Milo to at least attempt to calm him down since her buddy has such a calming presence. But, she doesn't know if an emotional support dog is allowed in restaurants. It'll probably break a sanitary violation but it's not like he'll be back in the kitchen. Maybe, it'll hurt business? She doesn't know, she's never tried to bring Milo to a restaurant because she typically has no problem in public spaces, it's more so when she's home and alone. That's when her anxiety peaks.

His muscles are tense.

His fists are clenched.

His lips are compressed.

Many emotions, many thoughts are racing through his head and he doesn't know what to do with them. He's a ball of nervous energy, sliding forward until his chest is pressed against the ridge of the table as he watches her read the results; she doesn't look surprised by whatever information is on the page, but he overlooks that, he refuses to take that as an answer because he needs to see it for himself. He needs to find out from the test, not from her word.

"What does it say?"

She looks up and the look on her face has him thinking that for a moment she had forgotten he was here, and instead of providing him with a verbal answer to the question he just posed, she slides the paper across the table to allow for him to find out the results on his own. He holds it, his grip pretty tight around the document, and while to majority of the people in the room, it looks like he's holding a simple piece of paper, to him it's so much more. It's a deal breaker, a life changer, and as his eyes sweep over all of the words, he realizes he doesn't know where to look for the answer.

Jay isn't reading every word of it because all he wants to see is the conclusive result; he doesn't care for the explanation or how they got to the result, he just wants to see the result. He trusts the procedure, he trusts the science behind it, he just needs to see whether or not his life is about to change. And he just wished the results page would get straight to the point and not-

His thoughts suddenly come to an unexpected stop when he sees the words, when he sees the terms positive DNA match and he unexpectedly forgets how to breathe; he's the dad. He's her baby's dad. He's going to be a dad in a couple of months and there's no more denying it. It's all spelt out clearly for him on this paper and whatever state of denial he lived in before this moment is now gone. It's no going back to that. How can he read actual proof that he's the dad and still deny it's the truth? He's not stupid. He's not close-minded. He's always willing to change his mind once confronted with facts and information that go against his prior belief.

And this was definitely a test to that.

Just staring at those words, hoping and praying that they'd change when he knows they're set in stone, it's no changing it, it's no denying it and the shock overwhelms his body and forces him to release the paper and watch as it falls back down to the table. He doesn't know if he's breathing; he doesn't think he's capable of breathing right now. This was a lot to take in. He doesn't want kids; he never wanted kids, especially with a woman he hardly knows. He doesn't want this at all.

"I meant what I said," Erin starts to speak when she thinks he's paying attention; he's not, but she can't tell, "I'm giving you a way out of this. You don't have to be involved. I won't say anything to anyone if you decide to walk away. I promise you. You have my word."

And he still doesn't respond. He's too out of it. He doesn't even notice that his food arrives and that Erin asks for their waiter to bring them two to-go boxes and separate checks.

He continues to sit quietly, processing the confirmation he'd just received about Erin's baby, his baby. It is his kid. DNA doesn't lie. Science doesn't lie. It's all laid out for him on that paper. It has been confirmed that her baby is his baby. He needs to start getting used to that. He tried to separate himself from it by simply saying hers, but now, he has no reason to continue to deny it, to continue to separate himself from the reality of it. It's true and there's nothing him or anyone else can do about it. It's frightening, it's scary and while he doesn't hear a word she's saying, he does try to search through the cracks of his brain for some way out of this, "You know," he clears his throat as she waits with bated breath for whatever he's about to say, "if you do end up wanting to terminate your pregnancy, I won't be mad, I'll even pay for it."

And it's obvious by the look on her face that nothing he said was the right thing to say.

She reached for her purse, face flushed red with anger and she doesn't care that she hasn't paid for her meal or that her meal is unfinished, she starts to slide out of the booth, "Keep your money."

"Wait," he leans forward, grabbing her arm because she hasn't slid out of her seat completely, "I uh…I don't want you to leave. Please stay."

"I'm not going to stay if all you're going to do is try to convince me to abort my baby. It's a little too late for that anyway."

"…maybe all of that came out wrong," he whispered, releasing her arm and using his eyes to plead with her to sit back down, "I don't know how to feel about this. I don't want kids."

"I didn't either but then I thought it, I slept on it and I realized that sometimes we don't get things that we want, we get things that we need. And despite how scared I am, how much I regretted this in the beginning, I do think this is something that I needed. It's hard to explain and I'm trying to wrap my mind around it, but I need this baby as much as it needs me. I used to feel how you're probably feeling right now and maybe you'll come around, maybe you won't, but regardless of your decision Jay, I've already made mine."

Erin reaches for the results to lift it off the table from where it dropped from his hands, but before she could grab the paper, he grabs her wrist, holding it firm but loose enough to where she could pull her hand away if she wanted. He stops her from taking the results, holding her wrist in the air, hoping she would drop the paper without him needing to ask. She doesn't though, because she doesn't know what he wants, "Leave it," he whispers; his throat is scratchy and his words come out croaky like he has a sore throat, "Please."

"You want to keep it?"

"I do."

She's still holding onto the paper and he's still holding onto her wrist, "Why?"

"I don't know."

She seems to accept that answer because she lets the paper go and pulls her wrist out of his hold. She doesn't know what he needs it for, or why he wants to keep it, but the way he picks the paper back up and starts staring at the written results again has her assuming it has something to do with him needing to keep rereading it until the conclusion sets in, until he can finally believe it.

Her hands fall to her lap. Her food is cold. She has no interest in even eating it anymore.

"Your food is here," she whispers, hoping to spark some type of conversation.

"I lost my appetite," he says it just as their checks and to-go boxes are brought to the table. He doesn't draw his eyes away from the paper, he speaks to her even while holding the results. And Erin doesn't know him enough to read him; she has absolutely no idea what he's thinking, no idea what he's feeling and she starts to feel pretty lousy with the way her hormones are making her interpret his silence for something bad, "I'm sorry," she whispers.

Immediately he looks up at her, "Please…please don't apologize," he sets the results down, "I'm just as responsible for all of this as you."

"You can walk away." She says it with affirmation but she hopes he doesn't take her up on her offer. She would live by her word, she would let him walk away and would honor his request of keeping this a secret, but she hopes he doesn't want to leave. She doesn't want to do this alone.

"I'm not abandoning you in this," those words are like music to her ears, "I said I'm just as responsible. I won't leave you to clean up my mess."

Maybe it's her hormones, or maybe it's the way he words it, but what he just said rubbed her the wrong way, "It's not really a mess that can be cleaned up. It's a human being."

He reaches across the table to cover her hand with his own, but falters, he stops and pulls his hand back before it can make contact, "That's…that's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then? Because if you're just going to look at the baby as a mess that needs to be cleaned up then I rather you not be in the picture at all."

"I can't seem to say anything right."

He leans back in the seat, the cushion in the booth soothing his back, and he shuts his eyes. He can hear Erin put her leftover food into the to-go box before pouring her soup into the disposable takeout bowl. She gives him some time to get his thoughts and emotions together while she finishes off her now cold hot chocolate. When he's still not ready to talk, she starts to transfer his untouched food from the plate to the to-go box before sealing it up, sitting back and finishing off the rest of her water, "I uh," he starts, running his hand down his face and then reopening his eyes, "I have to tell my girlfriend at some point. I'm not looking forward to that conversation."

She actually feels bad for him. He cheated on his girlfriend, yes, but in the few times she's gotten to have a conversation with him, she knows he truly isn't a bad guy. He's made dumb choices but he's not a horrible person. It's not her place to chastise him, he'll get enough of that from his girlfriend, if anything, maybe she can try to empathize with him, "I have to tell my parents and I'm looking forward to that conversation a lot." He smiles at her note of sarcasm.

"My dad and brother would probably want to know but I haven't spoken to them in weeks. They already think I'm a screw-up, they didn't approve of me moving down here, I've been ducking their calls and the next time I decide to pick up the phone and call them, I'm going to have to tell them that I knocked up a stranger, I'm going to live up to everything they already think of me."

He needs a drink, but he already knows after browsing the menu earlier that this place doesn't sell alcohol. He needs a break from life, from reality, but he's an adult and he can't simply ditch his responsibilities because he feels like it.

"What are we going to do, Erin?" He sighs, completely defeated.

"…what we have to," she leans forward, wanting to reach out to offer him some comfort but their not friends, she doesn't know if touching him right now would be accepted, "this baby didn't ask for this. This baby didn't ask to be here. It's our fault, our responsibility. We both have to step up. You need to do what you need to do and I'll do what I need to do." She forgets that they haven't paid for their food yet so when the waiter approaches, they're both quick to grab their wallets and hand their method of payment -cash for her, credit for him- to the waiter. He walks away to take care of their bill while they get back to one of the most important conversations in their life.

"And what do you have to do?"

"I'm focusing on moving right now. I found an apartment that I really like, but I'm still looking around while I wait to get approved just in case I find something better. I've seen four places since I found that apartment and none of them are the right fit. I think I'm going to stick to the one that I visited the other day. I don't think anything will top that one."

So, that's what she's focusing on. He nods, processing her words before asking, "And what do I need to do?" It's an innocent question, a harmless one because he's so clueless in all of this. But, she has no answer for him, at least not the one he's looking for, "I don't know, Jay. You're an adult. I have all the faith in the world that you'll figure it out though."

"This is all new to me."

"Me too," she reminds him, "In case you didn't know, or you forgot, this is my first kid too. I'm just as clueless and inexperienced about this as you."

"Okay…so what's our next step together?"

"Together," she repeats the word as if it's foreign on her tongue, "we have a doctor's appointment next week. I'll text you the reminder once I get home."

It's funny how this awkward silence seems to always fall over them. She hopes that one day it doesn't exist, one day they'll be comfortable enough with each other to voice every thought and feeling, to trust one another to share their burdens, to lean onto each other when comfort is needed, to maybe one day see each other as friends. It's a long way to go but she's confident.

The waiter returns with her change and with his credit hand, separating the two and handing them their respective methods of payment. Mentally doing the math, she leaves the desired amount on the table as a tip and he scribbles down a random number on the tip line before signing his signature on the line beneath it. He sets it at the edge of the table, grabs the bag the waiter dropped off and puts his food inside while she does the same. He grabs the results, folds it up and sticks in his coat pocket before sliding out of the booth. She follows behind him, walking alongside him as they walk towards the exit. It's still quiet between them. Of all the times, they've had to deal with awkward silence, this time was probably the longest and the hardest. Both wanted to fill it with something, anything, and it takes for Jay to hold the entrance door open for her and pose the question that's been weighing on his mind for the last five minutes to break the silence, "Should I tell Abby right away?"

The door to the diner shuts behind him, "I don't know, Jay. That's completely up to you."

"Should you be there," she turns to face him, "when I do?" The two of them are blocking the entrance and this time, he grabs her wrist to pull her to the side and out of the way of the family that are approaching the entryway.

"No," she answers his question, "absolutely not," she shakes her head for emphasis, "That'll just cause so many more unnecessary problems and I would prefer not to be punched for sleeping with her boyfriend and getting pregnant."

"She wouldn't hit you. She's not crazy."

"You underestimate what a person will do when their heart is broken, when everything they've built is threatened, when they are forced to deal with a sudden change. I'd rather not risk it." She doesn't realize that he's still holding her wrist and neither does he. He's currently hanging on to every single word that she's saying, listening intently.

"Maybe you're right?"

"…or maybe I'm wrong? I don't know her, but I do know how horrible of an idea it is for me to be there, to meet her the same day that you tell her I'm the one you slept with and got pregnant."

Now that she has repeated it back to him, he knows it was a stupid suggestion. In what world was that a good idea? Bringing two strong personalities together is just a recipe for disaster and he's happy that Erin had the clarity of mind to see that. He was just so caught up in his emotions, in his worries that he wasn't thinking clearly, but now he knows, he knows that when it's time for him to tell Abby, he needs to do it at home, alone, just the two of them.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"…maybe."

She reaches out to cover his shoulder with her hand, "I can stay with you for a little while longer if that's something you would be interested in."

He wants to take her up on her offer but he doesn't think that'll be for the best, he needs to process this by himself, "Nah, I just…I just need to be alone."

"Okay," she drops her hand and gives him a kind smile, "you uh, you have my number if you need me. You can call or message me anytime. It was hard for me to process all of this so I know how difficult it can be to face it all. If you ever want to talk about it, just let me know."

He appreciates that, more than she'll ever know.

Erin turns, obviously because she parked in the opposite direction of where he parked, but when she hears him call her name, she abruptly stops and waits to hear what he has to say, "…and don't forget to text me the reminder about the appointment?"

"I will," she smiles but she still doesn't turn around to face him.

"You promise?"

That causes her to turn, meeting his eyes across the few feet that separates them, "I promise."