“Are you reading a pregnancy book?” I practically shouted. He smiled and actually had the gall to look pleased with himself. “I am. It’s—” “How dare you!” Seething, I stormed from my chair and picked it up, swinging it in the air. “How could you read this? I can’t believe you even bought it!”
...
“I’m the one who’s pregnant.” I didn’t like repeating myself, but it obviously needed repeating because he was missing the point. “Not you!” I shook my head, unbelieving I’d walked in here to find this. “You think I’m going to be a crappy mom. That I won’t do this right? That I’ll mess up before the kid is even baked? Ohmigod, I can’t believe this!” I was spiraling. I knew I was. But, come on, first Brady wanted to be part of every little thing and now this?

“All right, well, I was just trying to explain that my intention was to get more information because I want to be the best partner I can be in all of this.”
Partner? What was Brady not understanding? Now I got why people tried not to get knocked up. Among the myriad of reasons was this one: the man got mixed up with what was happening. “That’s just it, though. You’re not my partner.”
“When it comes to this baby, I am.”