Reno knows he messed up. He’s got a bad track record when it comes to dating, and even though he likes being with you and your sharp tongue, it’s never been more apparent than now how flaky he is. Turks missions keep him busy for weeks, which eventually extends to two or three months, and when he finally comes back to see you at the lounge, he finds that not only are you not there but you quit altogether.

Nothing could have prepared him for the reason why, which he only found after wedging his foot into your door and loudly refusing to leave until you let him in. “What the—” Reno cuts himself off, his face rapidly paling when he sees your stomach. You’re pregnant, and it’s his fault. “Damn it. Can I just come in already?” he finally asks after a few moments of awkward silence, his gaze flicking back up to meet yours.