Worth the Fall: A Single Dad, Romantic Comedy (Flirting with Forever Book 2)

I‘m pregnant.

Pregnant.

As in there’s a tiny human brewing in my uterus, and I’m one particularly intense sneeze away from spiraling into full-blown panic.

I pace my bathroom, clutching the test in one hand and my phone in the other, staring at the two bold pink lines like they might change their mind if I look hard enough. Spoiler alert: they don’t.

‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,’ I mutter, running my hands through my hair. My heart races, and a wave of nausea washes over me that has nothing to do with morning sickness. This can’t be happening. Not now. Not when everything was finally falling into place.

Miguel and I have only been married for a few months. We’re still in the honeymoon phase, still learning how to navigate life as newlyweds while juggling careers and co-parenting Felicity. A baby wasn’t part of the plan. At least, not yet.

But here I am, standing in my bathroom at six a.m. on a Tuesday, holding a positive pregnancy test and trying not to hyperventilate.

‘This is fine. Totally fine. You’re a grown woman, Mia. A professional. A lawyer. You can handle this,’ I tell myself firmly, but my reflection in the mirror looks just as terrified as I feel.

My mind races with a million questions. How will Miguel react? Will he be happy? Scared? Both? And Felicity—sweet, spunky Felicity who’s just gotten used to having me as her bonus mom. How will she handle the news of a new sibling?

My phone buzzes, nearly making me jump out of my skin. It’s Miguel.

I stare at the message, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat. Oh, nothing major, Miguel. Just learning that I’m carrying your child. Casual Tuesday.

I can’t tell him like this. Not over text. He deserves to hear it in person, to see my face when I share this life-changing news. But how? When?

I set the phone down on the counter with a shaky hand, my mind spinning. I need a plan. I need to think this through. I need…

My stomach growls loudly, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.

Cupcakes. I definitely need cupcakes.

My first attempt at breaking the news happens at family dinner. Miguel, Felicity, and I sit around the table at his place, the air filled with the mouthwatering aroma of his homemade enchiladas. Felicity chatters away about her day at school, her little face animated as she recounts a thrilling game of tag at recess.

‘And then I tagged Liam, but he said it didn’t count because I was wearing a pink shirt and pink is a girl color. But that’s just stupid. Right, Daddy?’ She looks to Miguel, her brow furrowed in indignation.

Miguel nods solemnly, though I catch the amused twinkle in his eye. ‘Absolutely stupid. Colors are for everyone.’

Felicity beams, vindicated, and takes a huge bite of her enchilada. ‘That’s what I said! And then I tagged him again, just to prove it.’

I laugh, the normalcy of the moment settling my nerves slightly. This is my family. My people. Surely adding one more tiny person to the mix won’t change that.

But as the meal goes on, my stomach starts to churn, and not just from the secret I’m carrying. I push my food around my plate, taking small bites and trying to act natural.

Miguel’s dark eyes catch mine, soft and curious. His brow furrows slightly, a hint of concern shadowing his usual warmth. ‘You okay, hermosa? You’ve barely touched your food.’

His voice is low and soothing, like he’s trying not to spook me, and his hand stretches across the table, fingertips brushing mine. The connection is grounding, steady, and it makes my chest ache with the weight of what I’m about to say—or try to say.

‘I—’ The words stick in my throat. This is it. Just say it. I’m pregnant.

I put my fork down and draw in a deep breath, my hands damp with nervous sweat. ‘So… I have something to tell⁠—’

‘Oh! Daddy! We’re late for the recital!’ Felicity’s voice cuts through mine like a fire alarm, and Miguel’s head snaps up.

‘Crap,’ he mutters, glancing at the clock. And just like that, the room dissolves into chaos.

Plates are shoved aside. Felicity rushes to find her sparkly shoes. Miguel is tossing her ballet bag over his shoulder while trying to locate his car keys. The moment is gone, trampled under the weight of pirouettes and last-minute schedules.

I’m left standing in the kitchen, still clutching my revelation like a hot potato no one’s ready to catch. The words bubble up in my throat, threatening to spill out, but I swallow them down.

Not like this. Not in the midst of the mad dash out the door. Miguel deserves better. We both do.

With a sigh, I start clearing the table, resigned to trying again another day.

Attempt number two involves a romantic dinner. I spend hours cooking, determined to create the perfect atmosphere for the big reveal. I set the table with my best dishes—a wedding gift from my mom that I’ve been too afraid to use because they’re so delicate—and light candles for ambiance. The soft flickers of the flames cast a warm glow over the room, and for a moment, I let myself believe that everything will be okay.

I’ve made chicken piccata, a recipe I’ve been perfecting for weeks. The buttery, lemony scent fills the air, and I’m pretty proud of myself for pulling it off without burning anything or setting off the smoke alarm.

Miguel arrives right on time, looking devastatingly handsome in a navy sweater that hugs his broad chest and dark jeans that should probably be illegal. He hands me a bottle of wine with a grin, his lips brushing my temple as he steps inside.

‘This looks amazing, Mia,’ he says, gesturing to the table. ‘You’ve outdone yourself.’

‘Thanks,’ I manage, my stomach doing nervous somersaults. This time, I’ll tell him. For sure. No distractions, no interruptions.

We sit down, and for a few minutes, everything is perfect. We toast with the wine…or at least he does while I sneak cranberry juice into my glass, the clinking of our glasses echoing in the quiet room. We laugh about Felicity’s latest art project—a ‘sculpture’ made entirely of glitter and googly eyes that she insists is a self-portrait.

But with each passing moment, the knot in my stomach grows tighter. The chicken tastes like sawdust in my mouth, and I can barely focus on the conversation. All I can think about are the words sitting heavily on my tongue, waiting to be spoken.

‘Mia,’ Miguel says, his brow furrowing as he swallows a bite. ‘Is this… supposed to taste like this?’

‘No. Absolutely not.’ The words barely leave my mouth before my stomach revolts completely, twisting into a violent knot. Oh God. Oh no.

‘Maybe we should…’ Miguel starts, his concern evident. But I’m already halfway to the bathroom, my heels clattering against the tile as I make a beeline for the toilet.

The romantic atmosphere evaporates in an instant, replaced by the delightful sounds of me retching up everything I’ve eaten in the past twenty-four hours. So much for the perfect moment.

When I finally emerge, pale and shaky, Miguel is there with a glass of water and a damp washcloth. He presses the cool fabric to my forehead, his eyes filled with worry.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asks softly, brushing my hair back from my face.

‘I’m fine,’ I lie, taking a small sip of water. ‘Just a stomach bug, I think.’

He doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he helps me to the couch and tucks a blanket around my shoulders, his touch gentle and soothing.

‘Get some rest,’ he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple. ‘I’ll clean up.’

I want to protest, to insist that I’m fine, that I can still salvage this evening. But exhaustion is already pulling at me, and the thought of facing that chicken again makes my stomach turn.

‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, my eyes already fluttering shut.

‘Don’t be sorry, love. Just feel better.’

His footsteps retreat to the kitchen, and I let myself drift, silently cursing the universe for its terrible timing.

Another perfect moment ruined. Another chance to tell him gone.

I’ll try again tomorrow, I vow as I slip into a restless sleep. Tomorrow, for sure.

By the time attempt number three rolls around, I’m starting to think the universe is conspiring against me. Not in the fun, ‘let’s throw a few challenges her way to help her grow’ kind of way, but in the ‘let’s see how much Mia can take before she completely loses it’ kind of way.

It’s as if every cosmic force has aligned to turn my life into a roller coaster of attempted reveals and hormonal chaos. I’ve imagined countless ways this conversation could go, each one more disastrous than the last, but this… this feels like a cruel joke.

I’m at the park with Miguel and Felicity, our highly anticipated pickleball rematch in full swing. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and I’m determined to win, if only to reclaim some semblance of control over my spiraling life.

Felicity sits on a nearby bench, her snack pack of gummy bears in one hand and a juice box in the other. She cheers loudly every time I hit the ball, her face lit up with the kind of unbridled joy only a child can muster.

‘Go, Mia, go!’ she shouts, waving her gummy bears in the air like pom-poms. ‘You’ve got this!’

Miguel smirks at me from across the net, his dark eyes sparkling with mischief. ‘Your serve, hermosa. Let’s see what you’ve got.’

Oh, it’s on. I square my shoulders, my grip tightening on the paddle. I toss the ball up, my arm poised to strike…

And then the world tilts sideways.

A wave of dizziness washes over me, so sudden and intense that I stumble, the paddle slipping from my fingers. The ground seems to shift beneath my feet, and for a moment, I’m sure I’m going to face-plant right there on the court.

But then strong arms are around me, steadying me. Miguel. His face swims into focus, etched with concern.

‘Mia? Are you alright?’ His voice sounds far away, muffled by the ringing in my ears.

‘I… I don’t know,’ I manage, blinking hard to clear the spots from my vision. ‘I just got really dizzy all of a sudden.’

Felicity appears at my side, her little face pinched with worry. ‘Are you okay, Mia? Do you need a Band-Aid?’

I force a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. ‘I’m okay, sweetie. Just a little tired, I think.’

Miguel’s brow furrows, his hand coming up to feel my forehead. ‘You don’t feel warm, but you’re pale as a sheet. Maybe we should get you checked out, just to be safe.’

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ I insist, trying to wave him off. ‘I just need to sit down for a minute.’

But even as I say it, another wave of dizziness hits me, and I sway on my feet. Miguel’s arm tightens around my waist, his other hand cupping my face.

‘Mia, please. Let’s just go to the ER, get you looked at.’ His eyes search mine, pleading. ‘For me. For our family.’

Our family. The words echo in my head, and suddenly, I can’t hold it in anymore. Tears sting my eyes, and a sob rises in my throat.

‘Miguel, I’m pregnant,’ I blurt out, my voice cracking on the last word. ‘That’s why I’ve been so weird lately, why I’ve been trying to tell you something. I’m pregnant.’

For a moment, he just stares at me, his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape. And then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face, so bright and joyful that it takes my breath away.

‘You… we… really?’ he breathes, his hand sliding down to rest on my still-flat stomach.

I nod, a watery laugh escaping my lips. ‘Really. We’re having a baby.’

My heart is pounding as I watch the realization dawn on his face. For a moment, he’s completely still, his dark eyes wide with wonder. Then his hands come up to frame my face, and the tenderness in his touch nearly undoes me.

‘A baby?’ he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. ‘We’re having a baby?’

I nod, tears threatening to spill over. ‘We are.’

His lips crash into mine, and suddenly I’m being lifted and spun around as his laugh echoes around us. When he sets me down, his hands immediately go to my stomach, protective and possessive all at once.

‘I love you,’ he breathes against my mouth. ‘God, Mia, I love you so much.’ Felicity dances around us, squealing with delight even though she has no idea what’s going on.

And me? I’m laughing and crying all at once, my heart so full it feels like it might burst.

This isn’t how I planned it. It isn’t the perfect, carefully orchestrated moment I had in my head.

But somehow, it’s better. Because it’s real, and it’s us, and it’s the start of a whole new adventure.

Later that evening, after the hubbub has died down and the news has been shared with family and friends, Miguel and I sit on the couch, my feet in his lap and a pint of celebratory ice cream balanced on my stomach. Felicity is sprawled out on the floor, diligently coloring a picture that she insists will be a present for the baby.

‘See?’ she says, holding up the paper for us to inspect. ‘It’s our family. There’s Daddy, and there’s you, and there’s me, and there’s the baby in your tummy.’ She points to each stick figure in turn, beaming with pride.

‘It’s beautiful, cariño,’ Miguel assures her, his voice thick with emotion. ‘The baby is going to love it.’

She nods sagely, returning to her masterpiece with renewed focus. I catch Miguel watching her, his eyes soft and wistful.

‘What are you thinking about?’ I ask quietly, lacing my fingers through his.

He looks at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. ‘I’m thinking about how lucky I am. How lucky we are. I never thought I’d have this again, you know? A family, a future. But now, with you…’ He shakes his head, wonder in his eyes. ‘It’s everything.’

I feel tears prick my eyes for what must be the hundredth time today. Damn hormones.

‘I love you,’ I whisper, leaning in to kiss him softly. ‘I love our family, and I love this baby already. Even if they have terrible timing.’

He laughs, his hand coming up to cup my face. ‘I love you too, Mia. All of you. And I can’t wait to meet this little one.’

We stay like that for a long while, trading soft kisses and silly baby names, imagining what the future might hold. Felicity eventually falls asleep on the floor, her picture clutched to her chest, and Miguel gently carries her to bed.

When he returns, he pulls me close, his hand resting protectively on my stomach.

Everything feels heightened, more intense. Maybe it’s the hormones, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me like I’ve given him the entire world. When his hands slide under my shirt, skimming across my skin, I gasp at how sensitive I am to his touch.

‘Careful,’ he murmurs, noticing my reaction. ‘Is this okay?’

‘More than okay,’ I assure him, arching into his touch. ‘Everything just feels… more.’

His eyes darken at this information, and the next kiss is deeper, hungrier. One hand stays protectively over where our child is growing while the other tangles in my hair, tilting my head back to give him better access to my neck.

‘Tell me what you need,’ he says against my skin, and I shiver at the mix of tenderness and heat in his voice.

‘You,’ I breathe, tugging him closer. ‘Just you.’

He takes his time undressing me, his touches reverent but charged with desire. Each caress feels magnified, sending sparks of pleasure racing through me. When his lips trail down my body, pausing to press a kiss just below my navel, the gesture is so tender it brings fresh tears to my eyes.

‘Mi amor,’ he murmurs, looking up at me with such love it makes my chest ache. ‘I am going to devour every square inch of your perfect body.’

His lips trace a path down my body that makes me shiver, and I thread my fingers through his dark curls, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away from my oversensitive skin. Every touch feels amplified, like he’s awakened nerve endings I didn’t even know I had.

‘Tell me if it’s too much,’ he murmurs against my inner thigh, but the roughness in his voice betrays his own need. His stubble scrapes gently against my sensitive skin, making me gasp.

‘Don’t stop,’ I manage, my back arching as his mouth finds me. The first touch of his tongue makes me cry out—everything so much more intense now, almost overwhelming. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as pleasure builds faster than I’m prepared for.

‘Miguel,’ I whimper, pulling at his hair. ‘I need…’

He understands without me having to finish, sliding back up my body. When he pushes into me again, it’s slower this time, more deliberate. His eyes lock on mine, and the intensity of his gaze makes my breath catch.

‘I love watching you like this,’ he says, his voice rough as he moves. ‘So responsive, so perfect.’ His hand splays across my lower belly, protective even in this moment. ‘Carrying my baby.’

The possessiveness in his voice sends heat rushing through me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing him closer. His rhythm falters for a moment as he groans against my neck.

‘Careful, mi amor,’ he warns, but I can feel him trembling with restraint. ‘You’re going to undo me.’

‘Maybe that’s what I want,’ I challenge, rolling my hips to meet his thrusts. The new angle has me seeing stars, and I dig my nails into his shoulders.

He captures my mouth in a kiss that’s all heat and claiming, and I lose myself in the sensation. Everything narrows to this—the weight of him above me, the perfect way he fills me, how he knows exactly where to touch to drive me wild.

‘Mine,’ he growls against my lips, and the word sends electricity racing down my spine. ‘Only mine.’

The possessiveness, the tenderness, the way he’s staring down at me with a fire in his eyes—it’s too much. I come apart beneath him with a cry that he swallows with his kiss, holding me through the waves of pleasure until I’m trembling and boneless in his arms.

He follows shortly after, my name a prayer on his lips, and collapses carefully to the side to avoid crushing me. His hand immediately returns to my stomach, and I cover it with my own, loving how his wedding ring feels against my palm.

‘I can’t believe we made a baby,’ I whisper, still catching my breath.

He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with such tenderness it makes my heart ache. ‘I can. We’re pretty good at creating beautiful things together.’

I laugh softly, running my fingers through his disheveled hair. ‘Is that what we’re calling it?’

His eyes darken again as he leans down to kiss me. ‘I’ll call it whatever you want if you let me love you again.’

‘Miguel,’ I protest weakly, even as heat pools in my belly at the promise in his voice. ‘We should probably get some rest…’

‘Probably,’ he agrees, but his lips are already trailing down my neck. ‘But you’re glowing, and I can’t help myself.’ His hand slides up my rib cage. ‘Unless you want me to stop?’

I arch into his touch, already addicted to these new sensations. ‘Don’t you dare.’

His answering smile is wicked as he disappears under the sheets, and I give myself over to the pleasure once again. We have all night, after all, and something tells me sleep is the last thing on either of our minds.

As his mouth works magic between my thighs, I think about how perfectly everything has fallen into place. This man, this life we’re building—it’s more than I ever dreamed possible. And when he makes me come again, his name echoing off the walls, I know with absolute certainty that this is exactly where I’m meant to be.

I waddle into Whole Foods, one hand pressed against my lower back as I navigate the crowded aisles. At six months pregnant, everything is becoming more of a challenge—especially reaching the organic peanut butter on the top shelf that Felicity insists is the only acceptable option for her school lunches.

‘Need some help with that?’

I freeze, the voice behind me unmistakable even before I turn around. Sure enough, there stands Cameron—barefoot in downtown Chicago. His man bun has evolved into partial dreadlocks, and he’s wearing what appears to be a hand-woven poncho despite the summer heat.

‘Cameron,’ I manage, trying not to stare at his feet. ‘You’re… not wearing shoes. In Chicago.’

‘The earth’s energy can’t penetrate rubber soles,’ he explains, reaching past me to grab the peanut butter with enviable ease. ‘I’ve been going barefoot for three months now. My chakras have never been more aligned.’

‘That’s… great.’ I accept the jar, noting the crystals dangling from his wrists. ‘You’re still on your spiritual journey, I see.’

‘Oh, more than ever!’ His face lights up with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for multi-level marketing schemes. ‘I’ve been studying with a shaman in Wisconsin. Did you know that pregnancy is actually a profound karmic journey?’

Before I can stop him, his hands are on my belly, and he’s closing his eyes in concentration. ‘Your aura is absolutely radiant. The baby’s too. Although…’ He frowns slightly. ‘There’s some blocked energy in your third chakra. Have you tried sound healing?’

I’m too stunned to move, watching as he starts humming what sounds like a mix between a Gregorian chant and a cat with allergies. Other shoppers are starting to stare.

‘Cameron,’ I say firmly, stepping back, the scent of patchouli smacking me hard in the face. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Clearing your energy pathways,’ he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ‘The baby needs proper vibrational alignment. Here, I have some sage in my⁠—’

‘No!’ I hold up my hands. ‘No sage. Not after last time.’

He looks disappointed but nods, ‘You’re right. This isn’t the proper setting for a cleansing ritual. But here…’ He digs in his woven shoulder bag and pulls out a crystal. ‘Rose quartz. For the baby’s spiritual journey.’

I accept the stone automatically, too baffled to refuse. ‘Thanks. That’s very… thoughtful.’

‘Of course. We’re all connected in the great cosmic dance.’ He beams at me. ‘I’m so glad you’ve found your path, Mia. Your energy is so much lighter now. Marriage and motherhood suit you.’

For once, he’s actually right, even if his way of expressing it makes me want to laugh and cry simultaneously.

‘Thanks, Cameron. I am happy.’ I rest my hand on my belly, feeling a small kick. ‘Really happy.’

He nods, his expression serene. ‘The universe provides exactly what we need, exactly when we need it. Even if we don’t understand it at the time.’

With that cryptic pronouncement, he floats away—literally floats, his bare feet barely seeming to touch the ground. I watch him go, shaking my head in amazement.

Just a short time ago, his ‘I need space’ speech shattered my world. I thought I’d never recover, never find love again, never be whole.

Now here I am, pregnant with Miguel’s baby, Felicity’s ‘bonus mom,’ making partner at the firm… and watching my ex-fiancé practice sound healing in the organic foods aisle.

Life has a funny way of working out exactly as it should.

I struggle to grab another jar of peanut butter—might as well stock up while I can reach it—drop the rose quartz in my purse, and head for checkout.