Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 609(@200wpm)___ 487(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
I felt as useless as I had when boarding the plane to Scotland, knowing that I couldn’t escape Nick without Tierney and Ramsay’s help.
By the time breakfast was over, my stomach was in knots with the guilt and failure. After cleaning up, I found Nee in the dining room that had massive windows and French doors overlooking the Sound of Glenvulin. She wiped down the now-empty tables, brows drawn together like she was deep in thought.
“Hey, I’m heading out.”
Nee looked up, and I saw the tension etched into her expression, tension I had put there.
Renewed guilt burned in my nose and eyes. “I don’t want you and Ramsay worrying about the Nick problem. I’m going to deal with it myself.”
My best friend scowled. “No, you’re not. I won’t and can’t leave you to deal with it yourself. And why should you have to? If Nick wants to play dirty and pull the strings he has, then we’re pulling the strings we have, and Ramsay’s strings are way better than Nick’s.” She stabbed the air aggressively with a fork, like she wished Nick was in front of her.
Overwhelming love flooded through me, and I gave her a watery smile. “I just wish I wasn’t so damn useless.”
“You are not and have never been useless. I don’t want to hear you say that again.”
“Okay, Mom,” I teased half-heartedly.
Instead of rolling her eyes or chuckling like I’d expect, Nee’s hand dropped to her lower belly. It was a subconscious move but one that made me gasp out loud.
Her eyes flared as I stared at her in shock.
“Are you … are you pregnant?”
Nee bit her lip, a smile prodding the corners of her mouth. “Maybe?”
“What?” I bridged the distance between us. “What does maybe mean?”
She blinked back tears. “I mean, I am pregnant, but I’m only twelve weeks, so we don’t want anyone to know yet. But I’m happy you guessed.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“I’m pregnant. You’re going to be Aunt London. Or Aunt Lonny. Or Aunt Lolo. I’ve been thinking about a bunch of cute—” Her words were cut off as I pulled her into a tight embrace, so happy for her I trembled with it.
Everything she’d lost … I couldn’t be more overjoyed that she’d come out the other side and found so much.
“Congratulations, bestie,” I whispered tearfully as Tierney returned my embrace. “You’re going to be the best mom ever.”
At her choked sob, I held her tighter.
“You’re going to be the best aunt. I’m so happy you’re here with me.”
Stark despair lashed me at her words, at the reminder that there was a possibility I wouldn’t in fact be here with her in the very near future.
Shit.
I’d just unloaded a whole bunch of stress onto my pregnant best friend.
I pulled away from her, studying her pretty face. “You have to let me deal with the Nick stuff. I can’t put this on you and Ramsay. Not now.”
“You’re not putting anything on me. I promise. I’ll let Ramsay deal with it. He already told me to let him handle it, so I’m not stressed. Okay?”
No, not okay.
At her mulish expression, I didn’t push. I just congratulated her again, promised I wouldn’t tell anyone, and asked if she needed anything.
When she insisted that she didn’t, I departed the guest house and headed toward Main Street for a much-needed coffee from Pages & Perks.
My thoughts vacillated between the excitement of becoming an aunt and my worries that I would miss it all. Despite Nee’s protestations, there was no way I could leave her and Ramsay to deal with my immigration and ex issues. I needed to come up with my own plan. I needed to feel like I was the one doing something to protect myself and ensure my future.
The question was what?
My mind raced distractedly as I stepped into the coffeehouse/bookstore. The adorable store Taran inherited from her mom was already busy. Along the back wall was the coffee counter and all the machinery. Bookshelves and stacks lined the adjacent side of the room and in the front were the bistro tables. A comfortable couch and coffee table near the stacks was our go-to spot when me and the girls gathered for ‘book club’. Another favorite spot were two armchairs next to the fireplace, but those were always the first spots snapped up.
Framed literary posters hung on the wall as did metal signs with coffee and book related sayings. Like: “Death to Decaf.” “That’s what I do: I drink coffee. I read books. And I know things.” “Drink Coffee: Do stupid things faster with more energy.” “Heaven is a never-ending supply of coffee and books. Welcome to Heaven.” And my personal favorite: “Imagine the possibilities if Shakespeare had access to coffee.”
I got in line behind two people I assumed were tourists because I didn’t recognize them and I was stewing in my concerns when I heard a voice call out, “Dad!”