Worth It (Damie)

Part 15

A/N: This one is long and it answers almost every question I received after the last one. I promised you wouldn't wait long, so here we are. Breathe through it, and know I love you all! Xo

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"Pregnant." I verbalize it for both of us to hear.

"Jamie." She pulls at my face to force our eye contact, and I can see she's terrified for my reaction, and somehow that breaks my heart more than the fear of her news. "Please breathe. Let's sit down."

That's a good idea as my legs now feel like jelly. I need to say something. Goddamn anything would work right now, because my silence in punishing her. I can see it in the way she watches me while she drags me to the couch.

"I know this isn't what you wanted to hear—"

I silence her with my finger. "Don't ever say that."

She's wounded by my scolding. I'm not handling this well at all, she deserves better.

"Don't say I don't want to hear you're pregnant. Because I do."

She tries to interrupt, but I shake my head.

"Having a family with you is exactly what I want. Just...the timing is hard. Really really hard." I decide not to say 'bad' because a baby is never bad news. Growing up with an OB-GYN father taught me that. And a baby with Dakota is more like exceptional news. If only it had come a year from now.

She nods and I sense her relief. "I don't know for sure. I've been feeling sick since you left, but equated it to missing you."

I smile at her admission, tucking a hair behind her ear.

"Then I realized I missed my period. I'm usually on top of my calendar as you know, but with you gone it slipped my mind. So I took three home tests to calm myself and naturally they all were positive. I have a doctor's appointment scheduled this week to find out for sure."

Three positive tests. Jesus Christ. This is happening, and I have to embrace that without hurting her, and without ruining our careers. No pressure.

"Okay," I whisper.

"You don't have to come to the doctor's. I wouldn't want to risk us being caught."

I sigh. "I want to come, but I understand."

"It doesn't mean I am," she says, and I sense she's trying to convince herself over me. "They're home tests, they could be wrong."

"But they could be right, and we have to prepare for that." I chuckle suddenly as the thought enters my mind. "How though? You take your pill religiously."

"I don't know, babe. I guess we're part of that .1% when it's not effective."

I snort, I don't understand where my humor is coming from, but I blame it on my anxiety. "It's my fault."

"No it's not," she says, gripping my hand in hers.

"We could've used condoms, baby. But I'm too damn stubborn and hate that I can't feel you with one on. I could've pulled—" I stop myself, because I realize then how negatively I'm reacting. And I don't feel the anger she expected. I feel...things I can't admit to her or myself because this is the worst timing to somehow be happy over our accident.

"We're adults," I say. "And I accept the results of my actions. I don't ever regret a moment we've shared or how we chose to share it."

Her eyes start watering. "You're not mad?"