Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 50872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
His lips lift in a smirk. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
I straighten my back and hold my hands together on the table in front of me. “I’d like for you to sign your parental rights over to me.”
His eyes widen, and it’s obvious I’ve surprised him. He holds a hand up to stop me when I start to talk again. “Wait. So you are wanting me to relinquish my rights… to my child.”
I don’t even hesitate. I want that more than anything. “What do you mean your child? You said yourself it wasn’t yours. You said there’s no way this could even happen even though we both know the condom broke. But regardless, yes. That’s exactly what I want. I want you to sign over your rights.”
His forehead creases. “So you came to me months ago and wanted me to be involved in”—he waves his hand toward my belly—“this, and now you decide that you don’t want me involved.”
I cross my arms over my chest and nod my head. “Yes.” I could argue with him and tell him that I never asked him to be involved in any of this, that I just wanted to let him know that he was going to be a father, but it’s pointless. All I care about now is getting what is best for my daughter. It may have taken me a few months to figure it out, but it’s more than obvious that both my daughter and I will be better off without Gregory.
He leans back in the chair. “Did you know that your friend Austin is telling everyone that you and he are getting married and that the baby is his?”
I grit my teeth. I should have known that the gossip would make it to him. He may live in the next town over, but if he spends any time in Whiskey Run, heck here at the Whiskey Whistler, all he has to do is ask about me, and anybody would be happy to tell him about Austin and our little family. “Yes, I’m aware.”
He taps his finger on the tabletop, staring at me. There’s a new glint in his eyes, and I move my hand back to my belly in a protective gesture. I’m not comfortable with the way he’s looking at me.
“Hey there, what can I get you… uh, two?”
The same waitress from book club night stops at the table, and I can tell she’s surprised to see me sitting here with anyone besides Austin. I force a smile to my face. “Thanks, Megan, but I’m good. I’m about to leave.”
She nods her head and looks at Gregory. “Can I get you another beer?”
Gregory nods his head. “That would be great.”
Megan gives me one last pointed look. “Let me know if you change your mind… if you need anything, just let me know.”
“Thank you.”
I wait until she’s walked away from the table before I turn back to Gregory. “So I can get you the papers later today. All you’ll need to do is sign them. Does four o’clock work for you?”
His smile widens, and for the first time, I notice that the look on his face is just blank. It’s like there’s no life in his eyes. “No, four o’clock does not work for me. Actually, I won’t be signing any papers. I’ve changed my mind.”
I swear my heart stops beating for a few seconds, and I suck in a breath. “What do you mean you won’t be signing over your rights? You don’t even want this baby.”
His jaw tightens, and I can’t look away from him. I’m wondering again what I ever saw in him. Up until the day I told him I was pregnant, he was a decent guy. It seems that ever since then, there was a switch that flipped.
Megan comes and sets the beer on the table, giving me a look. I force a smile to my face even though it’s the last thing I want to do. She walks away, and I ask Gregory, “Well?”
He leans in and lowers his voice. “Alison, you’re a hairdresser. You live in a neighborhood full of drug dealers, and you live pay check to paycheck.”
A glimmer of unshed tears forms in my eyes, and I suck in a breath, refusing to let them fall. “Are you saying that poor people shouldn’t have babies?”
He smirks at me, and it takes everything in me not to smack him in the face. He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m saying that if a judge looks at me—” He points at himself, and I glance at his dress shirt, tie, and jacket before returning to his face, and he’s now gesturing at me. “And then at you, I’m pretty sure he won’t have any trouble making the decision that a child would be better off with me.”