Co-Parenting

Two: Awkward Conversations

"What?" There was no way that Hank really understood what this would mean. We were friends, best friends, but this would totally change the dynamic of our relationship forever.

"I'm serious, Delia. I'll give you a baby, and I'll help you raise it."

What was in that wine?

"Hank, no. I don't think this would be a good idea. It'd be weird, wouldn't it?" It would be so weird. Even if he was great with kids, and I knew that he wouldn't flake on me. No. Just No.

"D, think about it. We're already practically best friends, we know just about everything about each other, we make a good team at work. Why wouldn't we make good parents together?" He made some excellent points, but this had to be the worst idea he'd ever had.

Because my idea to Co-Parent with a stranger was so stellar.

"But you don't even want this?" I knew my question sounded weak, even to my own ears.

"Do I want to have kids? Absolutely." He nodded. "Do I want someone I unconditionally love and trust to raise them with? Yes. It might not be how I imagined it all going down, but I can't say that I don't want a child right now. I was just content to wait a little longer."

"You love me?" It came out as a squeak, and his expression softened as he looked over at me. I'd deny till my dying breath that the warm flush coursing through me wasn't from the wine.

"Duh, crazy girl. You're my best friend. Of course, I love you."

"This is just too fucked up." I sighed as he reached over and unballed my fists, massaging my knuckles with his much larger fingers, which made me fight back an inappropriate moan. And then a facepalm that I had that kind of reaction to Hank. Seriously.

"Let me do this. Let me give you a baby."

"Ok." What else could I say? He was too charming for his own good, and he'd turned my idea around and convinced me we could actually pull this off.

.....

Twenty-four hours later, we were back on my couch preparing to have 'the talk' about what was going on. Typically, having a 'talk' with a guy involved me letting them down quickly, but this was going to be ten times more awkward.

"So... how exactly does this work?" His eyes were heavy with something I couldn't quite identify as he leaned against the back of the couch and turned his gaze in my direction.

"I don't know." I really, really did not have any answers anymore. I may have made myself a few drinks after work to help me deal with this interaction.

Hank was out with client meetings most of the day and then went out for drinks with his brother-in-law Emersen at happy hour. This was probably a conversation we should have been having sober, but the liquid courage was a necessity at this point.

"Do we go about this the old-fashioned way?" His eyebrows bounced up and down as his hips thrust up lightly from the couch. Yup, he was definitely not sober.

"Oh my god. Stop. You are such a twelve-year-old boy." I swatted him in the stomach with the back of my hand. His very, very firm stomach. Ugh.

"Last time I checked, I was a boy, yeah. But I'm definitely no twelve-year-old."

"Gross, Hank. I just ate. Quit being a perv." We both laughed, and it lightened the tense atmosphere a little. I was well aware he wasn't a twelve year old, objectively speaking of course, but the fleeting thought of how pretty our babies would be came through nonetheless. Baby. Our baby. Not babies...