Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
I couldn’t tell what the fuck I was seeing, but we heard the heartbeat. So fast and strong.
“It’s a girl,” I declared.
Rachel rolled her eyes, and Dr. Anchors told me we’d find that out hopefully at sixteen weeks. On a more sobering note, we told Dr. Anchors we wanted the amniocentesis, and that’s scheduled to take place at the same time.
Still, when I walked in my house, I was riding high on the first tangible proof that there is something growing inside of Rachel that belongs to me. There was no way I could keep this from my parents anymore, and while I am not looking forward to leaving Jameson Group and all my friends and teammates, I am so looking forward to my kid.
I walk into my kitchen and sit down at the small, round table that seats four. I got it at a garage sale. The legs are uneven, so it wobbles when I rest my arms on top. Tapping on the icon for FaceTime, I dial my mom’s cell and wait. My heart is thumping madly, both terrified and excited to share the news with my parents.
My mom’s beautiful face appears on the screen, and I can see she’s in the kitchen. I figured she’d just be finishing up the dishes from supper, which is why I waited until now to call.
She blows a breath of air up to push her bangs back and grins at me. “FaceTime? Now that’s a nice treat. You look good, sweet boy.”
I rub my face along the jawline, feeling the scrape of stubble on my face. Of course my mom would say that.
“You look better,” I tell her with a wink. “When are you going to leave Dad and find yourself a young hottie?”
My mom blushes, and I hear my dad in the background say, “I heard that.”
Then his face pushes into the range of the camera on her phone. While my mom still has a youthful face barely marred by wrinkles or time, my dad’s face is weathered from countless hours out in the sun working the farm. He started wearing a beard a few years ago, and it’s shot through liberally with a steel gray against his dark hair. But his eyes are a light hazel, sparkling with the inner youth of a man who is as strong as an ox and could probably still whoop my ass.
“Hi, Dad,” I say with a grin.
Mom nudges Dad to the side to take up more of the camera. “Guess what? Millie Perkins got elected Mayor of North Platte.”
I went to high school with Millie’s daughter, Samantha. I also know this is a lead in.
“And Samantha’s moved back home,” she says with a sly smile. “She looks fabulous.”
“Not interested, Mom,” I chide. She’s forever trying to set me up, as if a pretty girl would get me to come running home.
A pretty girl would not.
A baby would.
“So, I actually have something important to talk to you both about, and wanted to do it face to face, so a video chat was the next best thing.”
Both of their faces pinch tight with immediate concern, so I rush to reassure them. “It’s not bad.”
My dad’s face relaxes, but my mother’s does not. She leans in closer to the camera. “Lay it on us. We can handle anything as a family.”
“It’s not bad, Mom,” I drawl with an amused shake of my head. “I promise.”
Dad chuckles, but Mom doesn’t look convinced.
I take a deep breath. “Okay… there’s just no good way to lead into this, so I’m just going to say it, and then you can ask questions. I got a woman pregnant, and I’m going to be a dad.”
My dad’s eyes bug out of his head, but my mom’s turn soft and tender. She’s already imagining all the ways to spoil her newest grandchild.
“Oh, honey,” she murmurs. She tilts her head to the side, and her eyes fill with tears. “That’s wonderful. You’ll make a wonderful father. Won’t he, Geo?”
She turns to look at my dad, but he’s all about the business of how this happened. “Who is this girl? And are you going to get married?”
I give a slow shake of my head, trying to brace myself against the disappointment I know I’ll get from my mother. “Actually no. It was an accident. Not planned. And um… well, we’re not really together.”
“What do you mean ‘not really together’?” my dad asks with a cocked eyebrow.
“I mean we have no intentions of being a couple together in the future.” It’s the first and simplest thing that comes to mind.
“Which means you’re together now,” my dad concludes, and I cringe internally. He’s making this complicated.
“What we have is casual and has an expiration date to it,” I clip out.
“It sounds like there’s something cryptic within that statement I’m missing,” my dad presses.