I wait with bated breath as he struggles to articulate his feelings for me. They’re so obvious on his face right now. This thing between us has transformed into something beautiful. All we have to do is name it and claim it.
“I love…” The certainty in his eyes flickers and he drops his gaze from mine. “This baby.”
His words are a blast of cold air. Not because of him saying he loves Buck. I already know this. He’s said it before. It’s because he’s still too much of a coward to admit the truth.
“Just this baby?” I ask, anger surging through me. “Really, Rhett? After all this?”
His jaw muscle ticks but he still won’t look at me.
This is going to be so confusing for Buck if I let it go on. I can hardly take this back and forth, but a little one won’t understand at all. Hell, I certainly don’t. I have to draw the line in the sand. Now or never. Where Rhett chooses to stand is on him. I can’t make that decision for him.
He tries to kiss me again, but I grip his chiseled jaw nearly bruising him to keep him from avoiding what needs to be said.
“Just this baby?”
He closes his eyes. Unbelievable.
I start to move away from him, hurt and anger warring inside me, when another sharp pain takes me out. The howl that escapes me has Rhett stiffening.
“Abby,” Rhett cries out, panic in his voice. “What’s wrong?”
Tears roll down my cheeks and I gasp for air. “Something’s not right. This hurts. I think I’m in labor.”
We don’t need to say the truth. It’s too early.
Within seconds he has me in his car and we’re flying to the hospital.
Please be okay, Buck. Mommy and Daddy need you.
False labor. Or Braxton Hicks. After rehashing my day, the doctor thinks I overdid it while hauling my laundry basket to the laundromat. It’s embarrassing that I even went to the hospital over some minor pains. But this is my first pregnancy and I kind of panicked.
“Dad, can you keep an eye on her while I grab some stuff from the store?”
“I’d be glad to,” Owen says, clasping his son on the shoulder.
Rhett shoots me a pained look before nodding and slipping out of the townhome. It’s late and I’m exhausted from spending hours in the ER. I hate that I officially met Owen while there. I’m not sure what all Rhett told him, but Owen met us up at the hospital, strong and in command while me and his son nearly fell apart with worry.
“Can I get you something from the kitchen, Abby?”
It’s not lost on me that Rhett’s father also seems like a loving caretaker. My heart swells some knowing Buck will have a kind grandfather. At least on one side of his family.
“Sprite, please.”
He returns with a Sprite and a cupcake Clara brought over this morning. I happily take both while he sits on one end of the sofa, body angled toward mine.
“You must think I’m a whore,” I blurt out around a mouthful of buttercream icing.
Owen barks out a laugh. “Wait, you’re serious? God no. I think you’re adorably pregnant and I’m kind of losing my shit right now about being a grandpa.”
“Good or bad?”
“All good.” He beams at me. “I can tell Rhett really cares about you.”
My eyes water and I focus on shoving more cupcake in my mouth, so I don’t have to comment. His chuckle puts me at ease.
“Rhett has always been rigid in how he goes about life,” Owen explains, voice soft and warm. “But whenever he lets go and allows himself to stray from what he should do, he’s happy. Like with you.”
I snap my head up to meet Owen’s gentle gaze.
