My fist slams onto the guys face. He tries to kick me away, but I'm faster than him. I grab his foot and twist it. He cries out, the perfect opportunity for me to land another punch on his jaw.
A small crowd develops around us. I don't see the enjoyment in watching me knock out some guy who stepped on the back of my shoe.
Zosia emerges from within the crowd with a smile on her face. "C'mon, Nico. It's our turn."
I drop the guy like he's a hot potato and follow the tight ass of the girl I impregnated. The clinic is freezing, but luckily we're led right into the back.
A nurse with pacifiers on her scrubs leads us to a small room with an examination table and a machine, the walls plastered with the different stages of fetal development. We're told the doctor will be with us in a moment.
"You don't have to do this," Zosia speaks first as she quickly looks over my bruising knuckles. "You can walk away."
I press a kiss to her forehead once she's sitting on the examination table. "A real man doesn't walk away, mamasita."
She gives me as small smile as a woman in a white coat enters. We exchange formalities and she dives right into the examination. Zo is set on her stomach and a pile of gel is put on her abdomen.
Our fingers intertwine as the wand in the doctor's hand spreads the gel. She points to a small spot on the machine screen.
"That's your baby. You look to be about ten weeks."
Ten weeks ago was when I got her out of jail. I impregnated her after I bailed her out of jail. Aren't my parents going to be proud.
Zosia requests four pictures and thanks the doctor. She we given a list of things she can and can't eat, places to buy healthy foods, and recipes. She was also given a prescription for prenatal vitamins.
She looks everything over and shakes her head. "I'm pregnant. I'm eighteen."
I don't say anything. I'm just going to let her digest everything. She's a beautiful woman who's going to have my baby, I want her to be as ready as she can. Even if it means I have to back off a little.
Our hands join once again as we make our way out the clinic. Zosia turns to me, a frown on her face, once we both get into my car.
"I love you."
I chuckle and raise an eyebrow. "I know." She shoves me playfully. I smirk down at her and her eyes roll.
"Do you think we should get married?" I freeze. "For the baby."
Married? Married. It's bad enough that we're eighteen and having a baby. Marriage could make or break this relationship.
"A baby can't tell the difference between a married couple and a couple in love."