With a single red rose in hand, I stood outside of the restaurant waiting for her to arrive. Only one reoccurring sentiment filled my thoughts.

“I must be crazy.”

The whirlwind of our relationship only lasted a few days but remained an important stepping stone in the timeline of our lives. With casual disregard, we threw caution to the wind in pursuit of our own carnal desires. Whenever we exhibited our passions in public, most people cringed with discomfort. It paled in comparison to the mutual affections shared in private.

When things fizzled out between us, it was nobody’s fault. Each of us had our own pursuits that were a priority. The budding relationship became a casualty. She went her way and I went mine.

After three months apart, I started to wonder if we gave up too soon. What if she had been my soulmate and I pissed away the limitless possibilities that love had to offer?

Whether or not we were meant to be together was a question that couldn’t be answered, at least not without a follow up conversation. I hoped she felt the same but wouldn’t know until we talked. If she didn’t, I would respect her decision and leave it at that. In the very least, our discussion would minimize any regret and provide closure to that chapter of my life. All I could do is hope and pray for a civil discourse.

The moment I noticed her walking towards me, my senses filled with the same lustful desires experienced months earlier. It was much more than wanting to whisk her away to a hotel room, though. Every part of me swelled with an overwhelming flood of emotions. When our eyes met, the smile inside my heart broadened to match the one on her lips. Her face was aglow with a contented gratification.

We entered the restaurant and followed the hostess to our table. Midway across the room, I noticed a friend eating lunch by himself. He was the one who introduced she and I.

“Kismet,” I thought.

He and I nodded in one another’s direction but never said a word. When we arrived at our table and my ex took off her coat, I noticed she was pregnant.

Uncertain what to say, I squinted my eyes and asked, “Congratulations?”

“Thank you.” Pointing her thumb towards the friend, she asked, “Isn’t that…?”

Without waiting for a response, she walked over to his table. When she motioned in my direction, he replied by shaking his head from side to side. After whispering something into his ear, she pecked him on the cheek and returned to where I sat.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“I asked him to join us. If it weren’t for him, we wouldn’t be having a baby.”

“We? You mean…it…it’s mine?”

“Of course it is. I’m four months pregnant. Do the math.”

I did as suggested and tried to calculate the timeline in my head. Distracted by the bombshell, simple mathematics proved difficult to comprehend. The display on my internal calculator kept showing an error message. The longer I sat speechless, the more aggravated she became.

“I haven’t been with anybody else,” she snapped.

“Does that mean you’re keeping it?”

“That’s a stupid question. Of course I am.” Offended, she stood and prepared to leave. “I knew meeting you was a bad idea.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I meant if you weren’t going to, or didn’t want…I mean, if you wanted to terminate it but didn’t have the money…” After looking across the table and seeing how incensed she was, I realized my comments were making the situation worse. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is…I’m here for you. Whatever you need.”

“You really mean that?”

“Yeah. Maybe…maybe we should get married?”

She returned to her seat but kept her gaze focused on the table that sat between us. Unable to look me in the eyes, she reached up to the collar of her shirt and fingered a pendant attached to her necklace. It was an engagement ring.

“When I told my boyfriend about the baby, he got down on one knee. I said yes.”

Although the initial shock of her pregnancy hadn’t worn off, I felt slapped once again by the rejection. This wasn’t the type of closure anticipated when our lunch date was set. Stunned, I looked towards our mutual friend without paying attention to anything specific. I didn’t know how to respond, just as I wasn’t sure how to feel about another man raising my child.

With a mechanical detachment, I replied, “Oh.”

“You can either be a part of our baby’s life or not. The choice is yours.”

“Your fiancé is okay with that?”

“He knows about you and hopes you stick around. More importantly, so do I.”

A lengthy pause filled the air until it reached a level of discomfort. I nodded a few times but said nothing. When she stood to leave, I got down on one knee and kissed her baby bump. I held the position and watched as she exited the restaurant. Hypnotized by her departure, I remained in a stupor until our friend walked over and sat down. It snapped me awake.

He asked, “She told me about the baby. Are you okay with it all?”

“I don’t know what I am other than a father.”

“I guess next time you’ll use contraception, huh?” A devilish grin appeared on his face. His comment was meant as a playful jab but I wasn’t in the mood. “Too soon to joke about it?”

“There’s not going to be a next time.”

“Good, ‘cuz I thought you Christians didn’t believe in premarital sex? I mean, you’re the one that wrote the Bible and you’re not even following it.”

“Satan, my friend, there’s only one thing that matters when it comes to the Bible. I’m the exception that proves the rule.”