A quiet sense of responsibility settled in. I was going to be a dad. Life was no longer about me. I had no more room to be selfish.
“In there,” I said, motioning toward the doctor’s office. “You said your morning sickness had finally eased up. How long have you been getting sick in the morning?”
Molly laughed. “Basically since the day I figured out I was pregnant.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s not like we were exactly on speaking terms. Remember the part where you swerved me for weeks?” she said, laughing—but I could tell the memory stung a little.
“If you get sick again, please call me,” I said, keeping my tone gentle. “I want to be there for you, Molls. I know we’re not together, but you’re still carrying my child, and it’s important to me that you’re comfortable. That you’re happy.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “I better get going. I need to get back to the bakery.”
“Call me if you need anything,” I said, as she got into her car, starting the engine. I closed the door for her and stepped back.
Every second of her driving away fucking sucked.
Chapter 16 – Liam
Movement detected in Molly’s Home — Front Porch.
I’d been getting notifications like this ever since they installed the security system. It was five o’clock, which meant she was probably just getting home from work. I never opened the notifications when they popped up on my phone, because I didn’t want to invade Molly’s privacy. If there were an emergency, she’d push the panic button.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket, picked up the paint roller, and continued rolling fresh paint onto the newly hung Sheetrock. I’d made a lot of progress in the last few weeks. Instead of a gutted, abandoned house, it was finally starting to look like a home.
Before I hung the Sheetrock, I’d had a company come in to sand down the floors. They’d be back in a couple of weeks to reseal them and bring them back to their original color. I’d installed new light fixtures in every room and finished stapling the trim everywhere except the kitchen.
Picking out paint colors had probably been the hardest part so far. I was terrible at matching and coordinating things. Which color would Molly like best—Cracked Pepper or Butter Beige? I’d stood at thepaint counter in the hardware store for nearly an hour before finally settling on a shade called Ever Better Beige. It felt neutral enough to work with whatever décor Molly chose.
And if all else failed, I could always repaint the walls for her later if she asked me to.
As I added more paint to the roller, I glanced at the ultrasound pictures I’d pinned to the kitchen wall—the ones Molly had given me during her last doctor’s visit.This is all for you, little buddy, I thought.
If there was anything I wanted to give my son, it was a place to land at the end of each day that didn’t feel hollow and grey like the home I’d grown up in. I wanted it to be the warm, inviting place he thought of when someone asked where home was. Somewhere he and Molly could make memories together. Not just a house—but a home.
As I continued painting, my phone dinged in my back pocket. I put the roller down, checking the notification.
Movement detected in Molly’s Home — Kitchen.
I tried swiping the notification away, but instead, I accidentally tapped it open, pulling up the live camera feed.
My blood pressure immediately skyrocketed as I watched the movement that had tripped the camera’s motion sensors. Molly was standing on her kitchen island with her arms stretched overhead, messing withthe light fixture, one bare foot dangerously close to the edge.
“Jesus,” I muttered, my body temperature rising.
I hit the button to speak through the camera.
“Molly McKinley,” I said, keeping my voice calm even as panic flared. “Get down. Right now.”
She startled, pulling out one of the ear buds she had in and spinning slightly as she searched the room.
“Where is that coming from?” she asked herself.
“Up here,” I said, more urgent this time.
She lifted her eyes to the camera. “How long have you been watching me?” she asked casually, like she wasn’t one bad step away from cracking her skull open.
“Long enough to know you’re scaring the hell out of me,” I said. “If you fall from there, you won’t be able brush it off, Molly. You’ll get seriously hurt.”
