Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Swallowing, I scratch the underside of my chin. “I want to get some fucking sleep.”
My sister sighs. Gives her head a shake. “Fine. Get some sleep. But think about what I’m saying. This baby is a surprise, yes. But maybe it’s an opportunity too. You’re a master of reinvention. Why don’t you put that imagination to use in your personal life?”
“Thank you for the unsolicited advice.” But even as I say that, I wrap my sister in a tight hug. “Appreciate you bein’ here.”
“Call me anytime. Sounds like y’all might need some extra hands soon.”
“I don’t know what we’re gonna do. About the baby. Don’t tell Mom and Dad yet, please.”
Jen pulls back so she can meet my eyes. She puts a hand on my chest. “Whatever you decide, I hope it comes from a place of, well, hope. Don’t let fear be your North Star in this, all right?”
I chuckle darkly. “Sure thing.”
I wait until I’m safely in my room, the door closed behind me, to fall apart.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I drop my head into my hands and let panic spread its wings inside my chest.
Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuuuuuuuck.
What are we going to do? What does a path forward look like?
And why do I keep glancing out the windows at the crofter? Lights are off, which hopefully means Maren is asleep. Poor thing is a fucking wreck.
For good reason. This could easily turn out to be a disaster. What if she wants to keep the baby?
What if I want to keep the baby?
The voice that whispers those words comes out of nowhere. Ignoring it, I let the runaway train of my thoughts barrel forward. I have to put Katie first. How would I do that with another baby—another woman—in the picture?
My anxiety sends me into a spiral. I’m terrified Becca will find out and she’ll suddenly reappear, taking advantage of my mistake to, I don’t know, demand money or custody or something.
Money, she can have.
Katie, on the other hand? Becca will get her over my dead body. Not likely to happen, considering Becca has never had any interest in her daughter to begin with. But the possibility is there.
The threat is always there, that I could lose the one thing in my life I love more than anything else.
What if Maren doesn’t want to keep the baby? That’d make things easier in the long-term, sure. But short-term, we’d have to get her an appointment. There will be down time, no doubt, that we’ll somehow have to explain to Katie.
Obviously I’ll support Maren in whatever she wants to do. But how would Katie react, knowing she was this close to having a sibling? It’s something I’ve mourned, the fact that Katie will always be an only child. It’s something I’ve celebrated too. The idea of having a newborn again, the thousand diaper changes a day, the constant state of exhaustion so deep it’s painful—
Yeah, I don’t love it.
Having a baby with Maren would also mean she’d be in my life forever. Another ex—well, not an ex exactly, we were never together—and another custody agreement.
Another broken home.
The hot press of tears hits the backs of my eyes. All the options are fucking terrible. The fact that this happened at all—Jesus, I’m not sure I’ve ever been angrier with myself. All it took was one minute. One mistake.
It’s not fucking fair. How many people have unprotected sex all the damn time without having to pay the consequences? Odds were not in our favor.
I should’ve never, ever touched Maren. Not that first night in the kitchen when I sent her flying. Not when she let me dance with her before carrying her up to her apartment.
Speaking of, I’m looking that way again. My stomach tightens when I see a light go on. A figure moves through the bedroom. Maren doesn’t close her shutters—I’m not sure she knows they’re even there—so I’ve seen her like this several times. T-shirt, shorts. No bra. I’m close enough, the light is good enough, for me to see her nipples poking through her shirt.
Why I haven’t asked her to close those fucking shutters, I don’t know.
I do know I’m rock hard all of the sudden.
Is she sick? Should I go to her? I don’t want to overstep, but I also don’t want to be a callous asshole.
More than anything, I have to keep boundaries in place. It’d be easy to let a surprise baby muddy the waters, but I’m not playing that game. A girl like Maren, young and idealistic and yes, pregnant, is gonna want my hand and my heart.
Jen and Abel both counseled me to consider letting her in. It’s a nice idea. But the reality is, my heart isn’t on offer. I don’t care if that means I’m broken.
And I am broken. Instead of going to Maren or going to bed, I grab my dick and draw out my orgasm with hard, angry strokes.