Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“I just had dinner with them. Mom is excited and planning on turning one of the bedrooms into a nursery.”
Gatlin grinned. “I figured they’d be excited and supportive. But how are you?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know, Gatlin. I heard the heartbeat today…and something inside of me felt like it switched on. But this isn’t how I envisioned starting a family, ya know?”
He nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t how Lilibeth pictured it, either. Are you guys going to be able to do this together without killing one another?”
“Oh, we’re past that part of our relationship. Hence the baby on the way.”
Gatlin laughed, then sobered. “Did you use protection?”
“I did. Condom every time.”
He let out a low whistle. “Shit. That’s scary.”
“Yeah, it is. Be careful.”
Standing, he clapped his hands. “Let’s go get you shit-faced.”
“It’s snowing out. Have you checked the weather?”
Gatlin pulled out his phone and frowned. “How about this? I call some of the guys over and we play some poker.”
“Do you have enough beer to get me drunk?”
“I think this is going to require the hard stuff, big brother.”
Nodding, I replied, “I think you’re right.”
Gatlin got on the phone and before long, Marshall, Jon, Mitchel, and Ronnie were at Gatlin’s place. Each brought something to drink, and Marshall brought a huge pot of chili. They thought it was just a random, thrown-together poker night, which was fine by me.
The only problem was, the more I sat there, the more I drank and played poker, the more I wanted to be with Lilibeth.
Lilibeth
I drew in a deep breath as I stood in front of my parents’ house. I’d chickened out last night on telling them about the baby. Instead, I made three loaves of bread, watched Steel Magnolias, and fell asleep on my sofa.
Today was a new day, though. After spending nearly thirty minutes bent over the toilet with dry heaves, I managed to shower, eat something, and make my way to my folks’ house.
I lifted my hand and went to knock when the door suddenly opened.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Mom said. “You know you don’t have to knock.”
I stepped into the house and began taking off my coat, hat, and gloves. It was less-than-a-minute walk from the apartment to their front door, but it was freezing outside this morning.
My mother took my coat and hung it up, then hugged me. “What did we do to deserve a morning visit? You’re not heading to the store this early, are you?”
Shaking my head, I said, “No. I have a few errands to run first.”
I followed her into the kitchen, where my father was sitting at the small breakfast table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper.
“They still deliver newspapers?” I asked, as I reached into the cabinet and took out a glass.
Dad grinned. “They still do, believe it or not. And there’s just something about reading it and holding it in your hands.”
“But you don’t need a magnifying glass to read it on your phone,” my mother argued with a laugh.
I smiled as I poured myself a glass of orange juice.
“No coffee this morning?”
Even the mention of coffee made my stomach lurch. “Not this morning.”
My mother raised a brow before turning and flipping the bacon she was cooking. “Have you had breakfast?”
“No,” I said, as I placed a hand on my queasy stomach. “Not yet.”
“You can eat with us. I’ve got plenty.”
Oh no. Please no. Don’t get sick now.
“Lilibeth? Are you okay? You look like you’re turning green,” Dad observed.
I forced myself to smile as I drew in a breath and slowly let it out. “I’m okay. I, um, I do need to talk to you both about something though.”
“Is the store doing okay?”
My mother was forever worried about the store, wondering if I’d made a mistake by using all my savings to open it.
“The store’s doing better than okay. That’s not it. I don’t really know how to say this.”
Placing the newspaper down on the table, my father regarded me with a curious expression. “Sometimes the best way to get out what you want to say is to just say it.”
I nodded. “Okay. Then I’ll just say it. I’m pregnant.”
They both gaped at me, shocked.
“Caden Wilde is the father.”
My mother smiled then, and my father simply nodded.
“I knew there was something going on between the two of you,” Mom said, as she walked over to me. “How far along are you?”
“Eight weeks. I’m due on August twenty-third. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone else until I get a bit further along.”
Taking my hands in hers, Mom kissed me on the cheek. “How are you feeling? Emotionally and physically?”
“I’m tired. Scared. Worried. Happy. Excited. Scared.”
My father stood and gave me a sympathetic smile as he rounded the table. Drawing me into his arms, he kissed the top of my head. “All to be expected. Have you told Caden?”