THEN
“If you obey all the rules, you’ll miss all the fun.”
— KATHARINE HEPBURN
PROLOGUE
THIS IS SO FUCKED
SHARI
Oh god.Ohgodohgodohgod. This is so fucked.
With shaking hands, I pick up my phone to open up our text thread and quickly type out a message before I chicken out.
Shari: Hey, are you around tomorrow? I'm going to be in Topsham again and would be good to meet up if you're free xx
I click off the screen and put my phone face down on the cushion next to me so I can't obsess over how long it takes him to read the message. I needn't have worried, though, his reply comes through almost immediately, as usual. I swear he has some sort of sixth sense with me. It's like he's already waiting for my texts or calls with his phone in hand.
Brad: Hey beautiful, would love to see you. Can you get here for dinner? I'll cook something so we can keep our energy levels up x
Fuck.I stare at the floor blindly as I debate my options. I should tell him it's not a booty call, so I don't completely blindside him. Right? It would be the adult thing to do.
Shari: Sounds great! I can be there for 5pm if that works? xx
Ok, so maybe I'm not feeling quite so adulty today. “Shari, you are such a chickenshit. You are the worst. The worst!” I mumble to myself.
Brad: Can't wait x
Shari: Me too xx
The worst.
My legs are practically vibratingwith nerves as I make the short walk from my car to the house. The loose gravel driveway doesn't exactly help my balance as my heels sink in, and the small stones rearrange themselves around my feet with every shaky step. The sound of them crunching underfoot sets my teeth on edge.
Brad opens the door before I even get close enough to knock and immediately pulls me in for a searing kiss. I'm so breathlessby the time we part that I've almost forgotten the reason for my visit.
“Damn, I missed that mouth of yours. Come, the lasagne's just in the oven.”
“I love lasagne!” I coo a bit too brightly as we step through the door. “It smells deli—” my words cut off as my stomach lurches. Closing my eyes I take a slow, deep breath in the hopes it's just crippling anxiety, but when the buttery, pungent scent of melted cheese hits the back of my nose I barely have enough time to dash past Brad to empty my stomach into the downstairs loo.
This cannot be happening. I love cheese!
Dear, sweet Brad is immediately behind me, holding back my long, unruly hair and rubbing slow circles between my shoulder blades.
“Are you ok, Blaze? I promise my cooking isn't that bad,” he jokes, but I can see the concern in his furrowed brow. “Let me grab you some water.”
When he returns, I press the glass of water to my cheek in a bid to cool my heated skin as he watches me, the worry in his sea-green eyes still apparent. I flush the loo and wash my hands, his eyes never leaving me in the mirror.
“You're going to make such a good dad,” I blurt. I spin around to face him and my eyes widen as my brain catches up with my mouth, but unfortunately, it doesn't stop the stream of insanity that leaves my lips. “I mean, Brad even rhymes with dad. Isn't that funny? Because you're about to be one! Well, no, of course it isn't funny. It is true, though. Both that it rhymes and that you're going to become a father in the next seven months or so. You must have supersperm because IVF taught me that my ovaries are basically barren, but clearly not completely empty because baby. Did I say that yet? I'm pregnant! I'm having a baby. Your baby. You're going to be a dad, Brad! That rhymes! Ialready said that. Brad the dad. A Braddy Daddy! Oh god, please make me stop talking.” I clench my eyes shut tight in the hopes my mouth will follow suit.
When Brad still hasn't spoken and all I can hear is a slight wheezing sound, I pry one eye open. He's standing in the same position, but his eyes are comically wide and his mouth is agape – the wheezing sound coming from his chest.Shit.
Well, we can't both freak out, so I pull up my metaphorical big girl pants, grab his biceps and start walking him backwards into his living room.
“Ok, I've got you. Come and sit on the couch with me.” He still hasn't said anything and his eyes just keep flicking between my own as if to read the lie. Or maybe he's hoping to find a really bad joke in my gaze.Sorry to disappoint, dude, pretty sure this whole situation is just one big fucking joke from the universe, though.
Because why else would I get pregnant from my first ever fling after getting divorced two years ago? Especially when my ex and I tried for so long to have a baby of our own.
