A feisty momma and her baby boy Buck.
It’s so wrong. In fact, I confessed to Dad about a month ago and told him I’d slept with Angela’s sister. I’d wanted his disappointment, his judgment, his wrath. Instead, he was concerned for me and probed me about my love for Angela. I even showed him the ring that was meant for her. There was pity in his eyes, and I haven’t been able to shake it off since.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call and I sigh to see it’s Mom.
“Hey,” I say, voice gritty.
“Hello, Son. I heard through the grapevine you were going to propose to a Serengeti. Nice move. Don’t sign a prenup until I have my attorney look it over for you. If you marry into the family, we need to make sure you get what’s owed to you. Your dad certainly did.”
I ignore the dig at my father. Mom came from money and he didn’t. But he worked hard to get there. Now that they’re divorced, she never fails to remind him of the fact it was her money that got them started in life.
A chill races down my spine. It’s not lost on me how similar their beginning was to what I’ve got going on with Angela. Is that a warning? A sign of what’s to come?
No.
I am not my dad and Angela isn’t my mom. I’m just slowly losing my shit right now. Maybe I need to bite the bullet and propose. It might keep me focused on my future rather than playing in a life that doesn’t fit me. Hiding out with my secret baby momma is shameful. For someone who’s succeeded in every aspect of his life, I sure feel like a fucking failure.
All I have to do is keep moving forward with Angela. That’s it.
Mom’s been rambling about God only knows what. I interrupt her and blurt out, “Sorry, Mom. Gotta go. I’m about to make this official.”
“You’ve got this,” she assures me. “I’m so proud of you. Marrying a Serengeti is a boss move. You get that from me.”
“Right. See you later, Mom.”
I end the call, dig out the ring box that’s made it from the car floorboards to my dresser drawer, and then head for my vehicle. Once inside, I toss it in the back seat and damn near peel out of my neighborhood. I’m afraid if I put it off any longer, I’m going to pussy out again.
This needs to happen.
I’m going to finally ask Angela to marry me.
It’s long overdue.
Bile creeps up my throat but I swallow it down. I drill into my head over and over and over that Angela Serengeti is my future. It’s not messy with her or confusing or stressful. I know what to expect. There’s relief in predictability. Everything I’ve mapped out can be checked off one by one.
No chaos or surprises.
Buck was a surprise and Abby’s pregnancy is turning out to be one of the most soul-fulfilling things ever to happen to you…
That thought gets shoved away deep where I can’t access it. I blast music to keep my brain sharp and focused on the task ahead. I drive to the country club where I know Angela will be with her family, but then…keep driving. It’s as if my brain is being overridden by a strong, visceral need to go somewhere else. The ring box rolls into the floor when I take a turn too quickly, eager to get to a different destination.
My heart knows the way.
Chapter 12
Abby
I’m strong.
With each day that passes where I’m not under the influence of my family, I recognize this. As my body grows a whole human inside me, I feel it in my bones.
So why does Rhett’s emotional distance lately make me feel weak and broken?
It’s what’s for the best. I know this.
And yet…it’s eating me alive.
When he visits to bring me food or check on me, it’s as if his eyes are glazed over and he’s in some sort of trance. It pains me deeply that he can’t be his normal, imperfect self when he’s with her. He’s a plastic version of himself and I hate that for him.
