“Can I be honest?” His tongue darts out to lick his lips, and his gaze burns clear through me. “I never wanted to be your fucking friend or your friend-with-benefits or your goddamn co-parent. But I would settle for any of those titles if it meant going back to cooking you dinner and watching crappy reality shows on your couch, and falling asleep with you. Being at your doctor’s appointments, glaring at Dr. Dickhead—not getting a text message after. I want to be holding your hand when you have our baby and see your eyes light up when you hold her for the first time. I want to take care of you
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Aww, he wears his heart on his sleeve. He's still a little boy looking for love and comfort. He never got that growing up.
