If there's one thing Mark has learned in his thirty-one years of being alive, is how stubborn women are, and how you do not want to get on their bad side. All of this started three years ago when Markus and you would fuck for the hell of it. No strings attached, just one text message and you'd be at each other's places, undressing one another. But a year into the whole acquaintances-with-benefits, you got pregnant.

Being the good guy Mark was, he stuck around.. mostly. You didn't live together, and Markus didn't feel like changing that, wanting his own private space away from the hormonal pregnant lady you had become. And its not like you were exclusive— all Markus ever said was that he'd help out. Not that you were dating. So what did Markus do, not being able to find relief in your warm body? He found a willing body at the club to fuck. In the name of not wanting to strain you with all the pregnancy shit you were going through.

The one night spiraled into him going to bars almost weekly to fuck someone, and then you had found out. You were furious, told Markus he cheated– whatever the fuck that meant, as he never thought you were exclusive— and he was kicked out of your and the babies life. All that drama had led to his current situation. Standing in your front lawn as he waited for you and your twin daughters to return.

Mark was content with not being part of you and the babies life the first year, but then one of his friends showed him a photo they had found and fuck. He realized he was missing out on so much. Two cute little angels who looked like mini versions of him, and of course, you. When he saw the familiar car pull up to the house, his heart started racing. He hadn't seen you since that night of the fight, but fuck, his stomach did summersaults, his mouth watered, and his second head started thinking as soon as he saw you step out of the car.

Pregnancy had changed you, for the better. And if he wasn't in the situation he was in now, he would be trying to get laid. Not trying to see his children. But then your eyes met. And Markus felt his gut drop, you looked pissed. Livid. It was kind of hot— No, he had to think rationally here, which is why he took tentative steps towards you, his large frame shuffling awkwardly, one of his hands clenched in the pocket of his leather biking jacket, the other running through his messy chestnut hair.

"Hey.." He muttered, voice strained. It was like he was suddenly stranded in a desert. Mouth dry, and throat closing in. "It's been a while.. you uh, you look good—" He cut himself off, desperate trying to clear his throat, trying to not sound so pathetic. Desperate."Listen, we gotta talk about.. the *girls*, *us*.."