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 let out a gust of frustrated air and rub my hand over the top of my head. This is the part I’ve been dreading, because I know my kind, decent midwestern farming parents won’t understand. “Rachel… the baby’s mother… doesn’t want to raise it. I do. So, I’m going to be leaving Jameson and coming home after the baby is born. That’s what I mean by an expiration date.”
My mom’s face crumbles, not for any reason other than she’s assuming I’m heartbroken over this turn of events. My mother, the romantic, probably believes that love created this baby and our love isn’t going to survive the circumstances.
“Listen,” I say quickly to make them understand, and because I don’t want them disliking Rachel from the start. “Rachel is an amazing woman. She’s one of my teammates at Jameson, and we sort of got stupid one night and this happened. She could have easily chosen an abortion… could have kept this hidden from me. But she didn’t, and she agreed to carry the baby. Just because she’s not ready to be a mom yet doesn’t make her a bad woman. I totally respect her decision.”
I hate it, but I respect it.
I hate it because I think she’s making the wrong decision. Not for me, but for her. I think she’s going to have terrible regrets one day, and I’d spare her that pain if I could. But I can’t tell her what to do. She has to figure it out for herself.
I also hate it because I do care about her. I could see us really having something solid together as a couple. Over the past several weeks, I’ve come to know the real Rachel, and she’s a generously giving woman. She has so much to offer our kid. Fuck… I want what she has to potentially offer to me if I can ever figure out how to knock down the rest of her reticent barriers.
“Bodie,” my mom says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Come home. We’d love it so much if you did that. I’ll help you. You can work the farm until you decide what you want to do.”
My throat tightens because this is it. This is where I commit to a whole new life for myself.
“I’d like that too,” I tell her.
And I would. I’d like it, but I wouldn’t love it. While there is nothing nearer to my heart than my family, farm life is never what I wanted. Nebraska is never what I wanted.
♦
There’s a knock on my door, rousing me from sleep. I rub at my eyes, pick up my phone from the coffee table where I’d laid it, and look at the time.
12:37 AM.
There’s another knock—three short raps that have me pushing up from the couch. I pad to the door and can see Rachel standing on the other side through the panes of glass. Her face is softly illuminated by the yellow glow of the porch light, and it strikes me how ethereal her beauty is at times. So different than the tough, badass woman I’m used to.
I pull the door open. “Hey. Come on in.”
She pushes by me, spins around, and accuses. “You didn’t come to the club tonight.”
I scratch at the back of my head and give her a hang-dog look. I hadn’t promised her I would when she texted me a few hours ago, only that I’d try to make it.
It’s the first time I’ve bailed on her invitation, but after talking to my parents tonight, I honestly just didn’t feel like it. My talk with them had brought me down low, a potent reminder that my life as I loved it was over.
My career that brought me utter joy was done.
Sure… I was getting something great in return, but I was losing so much of my identity. So what if it made me a little melancholy?
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Just was tired tonight.”
Rachel cocks a perfectly shaped eyebrow into a higher arch. “Bullshit. What’s wrong?”
With a sigh, I turn away and head back to my couch. I flop down on one end, throwing my arm over the back. She walks silently toward me, taking a seat at the opposite end.
“What’s wrong?” she repeats, this time in a softer, more concerned tone.
I stare at her a moment, wondering if I should even share with her. I mean… we are nothing more than just fuck buddies, right?
“Bodie,” she murmurs. “Talk to me.”
That right there strikes at me deep. The tone in her voice that tells me she’s concerned.
“I talked to my parents tonight,” I say, rubbing at the stubble on my chin.
Her eyes grow soft with empathy. “And they’re upset?”
My smile is weak. “On the contrary… they couldn’t be more thrilled. Me coming home with a baby in tow. My mother’s dreams are being totally fulfilled.”