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Jake

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Jake

"So," Cassian says after a sip of his drink. "When are you going to knock Gemma up and have a baby?"

I nearly choke on my gin and tonic, slamming the glass down on the sticky wooden tabletop and gaping at my best friend, who is also going to be the best man at my upcoming wedding. Though, I'm starting to wonder if I should still allow him to play such an important role when he continues to use shock value against me – God knows what he could say during his speech at the wedding. To say I'm dreading that would be an understatement.

"What?" he smirks, taking a sip of his drink. I'm not entirely sure what Cassian is drinking at the moment. Unlike me, he'll try anything. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd think it's some kind of imported beer he's nursing. "Don't tell me you and Gemma haven't discussed the possibility of kids. You love kids."

I rub the back of my neck and lean back in my chair. Yeah, I do love kids. The only issue is, I spent most of my life raising one. And although she turned into a smart, sophisticated young woman, I don't know if I'm ready to raise a kid from baby to adult. At least my sister was old enough to have her own sense of direction and I didn't have to teach her too much. I just had to be there to support her and provide for her. It was difficult to balance between being a parental figure and the older brother, but I managed. "We have," I admit, toying with the lime on the edge of my drink. "But it's mostly been a back and forth conversation with no sustenance; she's tries to convince me that kids are a good idea, I try to remain elusive and postpone the conversation."

"Why?" Cassian asks, signalling the bartender for another drink. He reaches over and picks at the nachos we ordered earlier, dipping the cheese-coated chip in a small bowl of guacamole. He pops the chip in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "You raised Hanna without any issues. What's so different about raising your own kid? You're getting married – isn't that supposed to be the bridge between a couple before they have kids?"

I swirl my drink around. It's not that I don't want to have kids. Fuck, I've pictured what our kids will look like more times than I can count on my fingers and toes. I've wondered what they'll be when they'll grow up or if they'll have Gemma's stubbornness and my determination. What I'm scared of is the day Gemma has to deliver the baby because I know all I'm going to be able to do is stand there and do nothing. I want to be able to feel like a participant in the delivery room, and not like some sperm donor. And while I have plenty of experience in raising my little sister, I have no experience whatsoever in baby care.

"Bro," Cassian says, smacking my shoulder. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

"I want kids," I admit, tossing back the rest of my drink. I signal the bartender for another one. After what I'm about to admit to Cassian, I'm going to need to forget that this night ever happened. "I want at least four of them, if I'm being totally honest. But I'm scared. Not only about what it could potentially do to our relationship in the future – what happens when we can't make time for each other? – but also about being in the delivery room. Gemma has to go through this whole thing on her own, and all I can do is stand there and do nothing while she screams and writhes in pain. Her body will change and all I get to do is stand there and feel helpless. I don't want to leave her alone again, Cass. I did that to her back in high school. I can't let it happen again."

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