She shrugged, setting a hand on the table beside us. “It helped with Avery. I was the only one involved in picking out her name, and I was scared I’d pick wrong.”
My mouth puckered in thought, but I didn’t want to press for more.
She must’ve noticed my curiosity, because she clarified, “The man who got me pregnant wasn’t all too eager to help plan for the baby. That included bouncing around names.”
Empathy hit me straight in the gut. Sage seemed sosweet, and hearing she’d had that experience was painful. “I’m sorry.”
She waved me off. “It’s in the past. Callan has made up for it.” A smile split her lips before it faded again. “If you’re in a similar situation, Parker…”
I gnawed on my bottom lip, trying to figure out how to explain this. “I didn’t have a great childhood, so I always told myself that if I had kids, it’d be when I was ready and able to make their lives amazing.” My hand instinctively went to my stomach. “He’s not coming at the most ideal time, but when I was faced with the choice of raising him or having an abortion, I couldn’t choose the latter. Those two little lines woke something up inside of me, and from that moment, I knew I’d do anything to protect my baby.”
With a deep breath, I looked longingly at my belly before continuing. “He didn’t want me to have this baby. He didn’t want any financial ties, no ‘burden,’ as he called it. But he had never hurt me, despite often being a selfish prick.”
“Until he did,” Sage stated quietly. Of course, she could see the signs. She’d probably been through worse.
“Until he did,” I confirmed.
She set a gentle hand on my arm and leaned closer. “You’re not alone in this. Names come and go, but your love for your baby won’t. It’ll be there every hard day to nip you in the ass and remind you that you can do hard things.” She squeezed. “Don’t force the process. I’m sure once you hold him, you’ll know. You’re not failing, Parker. I promise.”
Because even though we’d been simply talking about names, she could tell it was more than that. It was the crib, the type of bottles we’d use, how I wanted my labor, whether I could even keep a baby alive, how I’d deal with diaper rash or his first tooth coming in. And Sage was right. I wasn’t alone for any of that.
If I chose to stay in Bell Buckle and raise my baby here, I didn’t think there’d ever be a single day I’d be alone.
“Can we talk about pacifiers?”
Sage’s smile gleamed. “Of course.”
With the sun setting on the horizon, I waved goodbye to Lettie as she backed out of Beckham’s driveway. Once she turned onto the road, I closed the front door to Beckham’s double-wide and pressed my back against it, shutting my eyes and dropping the shopping bags. My head rested back as I couldn’t help the smile that bloomed.
I had agoodday. With girls who I’d known since childhood, and new ones I felt just as comfortable with. They’d never once treated me like I was impeding on their shopping trip. Instead, we laughed and smiled and gave each other opinions on outfit choices. They’d listened intently when I told them stories of my travels, rather than zoning out or acting disinterested. Sage and I had talked babies for so long, I was surprised the others didn’t get sick of us.
It felt nice to learn things that hadn’t stemmed from Google or a pregnancy book. As informational as both were, there was nothing like getting tips from another mom.
The whole day, I’d forgotten my phone even existed, and it felt like taking a deep breath after being underwater for too long. With social media having been the way I made a living for so long, I was constantly on my device doing everything under the sun. Responding to DMs, editing a video, emailing about a brand deal—it was all exhausting and time-consuming, but for a while, I loved it.
The silent house slowly seeped in, and I popped an eye open, scanning my surroundings. The kitchen light was on, but I wasn’t sure if Beckham was here. Granted, he would’ve left it on for me even if he’d left. I tugged my phone out of my purse to check for any texts, but only saw a few from the girls in our group chat saying they had a fun day, and that we should do it again sometime soon.
Despite it having felt good to be off my phone all day, curiosity won out, and I found myself with the Instagram app opened. The icon in the corner was maxed out with likes, comments, follows—all of it. It was no secret that other influencers had taken to coming up with theories about my silence online, pushing new people to my account to see if they could crack some mystery. As if it was illegal for me to live my life and not broadcast it online.
When I’d first decided leaving socialmedia was the best course of action, I’d posted a quick story about taking a break. Of course, people were nosy, and everyone wanted to know why. Now, every accusation was being thrown around—the biggest being that I was either knocked up or in prison.
Their imaginations ran wild, that was for sure.
Deciding to ignore all of those, I tapped into my messages and found countless requests from new people. I scrolled and scrolled, my mind numb to all the questions and speculations. My thumb ceased its movement as I stopped on one from an account with no profile picture. They didn’t ask where I was, or whether I was alive, or throw assumptions at me. The message began politely. That fact had me clicking into it.
And instantly regretting it.
Hi, Parker. I hope you’re doing well. You’ve been quiet online for so long, and as a concerned Good Samaritan, I’d like to know your address so I can order a welfare check. No drop in from a stranger. Strictly professionals. This would ease my worries a lot. Thanks.
I stared, unblinking, at my phone for what felt like minutes before blocking the account and deleting the message. Somehow, finding a complete stranger asking where exactly I lived seemed far-fetched. People were nosy and frequently overstepped, but going as far as to ask for something so private? With the profile looking brand new, I could only guess whoever messaged me was someone who’d known me before.
My heart stopped at the thought of Daniel trying tofind out where I was. But he’d wanted nothing to do with this baby, so the possibility was unlikely. Right?
I shoved off the door and grabbed my bags after pocketing the phone, beelining for my temporary room. Whoever it was, Daniel or not, they weren’t getting that piece of me. Besides, even if it was someone I knew, I wouldn’t give up Beckham’s address with the possibility of it being exposed online.
Halfway down the hall, Beckham’s bedroom door opened and dim light spilled into the hall. I nearly tripped as I stopped, my palm slamming against my chest in a poor attempt to calm myself.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I panted.
