Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 53521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 214(@250wpm)___ 178(@300wpm)
I giggle as I step back. “I’m good. Definitely eating enough and I never slept well, so that’s not going to change.”
“Well, I have roasted chicken in the oven with red baby potatoes and green beans. You can take home all the leftovers,” she says, sitting back down in her chair.
I sit in the white wooden chair next to hers and look out into the yard. She’s an amazing gardener and the flowers are beautiful and in full bloom. I wish I had a green thumb like her, but my house is where plants go to die.
“Have you told the father yet?” she asks out of nowhere.
I turn my head toward her and dip my brow. “What?”
She raises her eyebrow and replies, “Did you really not hear me?”
I sigh, shaking my head. “I tried to tell him but he was being the jerk he is.”
She reaches over and rests her hand on mine. “Felicity.”
“Mom, stop. Tons of women raise babies on their own.”
She squeezes my hand and smiles. “I’m not saying you can’t raise a baby on your own. You’ve always been responsible well beyond your years.” I smile at her, but she continues. “But don’t you think the father deserves to know?”
Does he deserve to know? Maybe, but he’s denied me once, I don’t think I can handle it a second time. This time though he won’t just be denying me. He’ll be denying me and the baby. I don’t think that is something I’ll be able to handle.
I rest my hand on my still-flat stomach, trying to protect this baby already. I’ve heard the heartbeat and ever since I’ve had this uncontrollable need to keep this little one safe. If I tell Shepherd, I’m afraid my emotions toward his rejection will be bad for the baby and this little miracle doesn’t deserve that.
“It’s not that easy, Mom.”
“It will all work out, Felicity. You’ll see,” she says, glancing down at my hand on my stomach.
“Not everything is like the romance novels you read, Mom,” I say, shaking my head.
She laughs, swatting my hand. “We don’t just read romance, silly girl.”
I raise a brow. “Mom?” I question her, because I know when she’s not telling the truth.
“Okay, fine. We’re reading Outlander.”
“Even worse. That’s so make-believe. This is the real world and there isn’t always a happily ever after.”
I wish it wasn’t true and before being left at the altar, I believed in the happy endings. Now, I know better and I refuse to set myself up for another heartbreak.
Chapter 10
Shepherd
Fuck. I hate when I forget things and have to drive all the way back to the brewery. Tonight, I’ve forgotten to email out the nightly reports. Sure, I could wait until morning, but I know Callum. He’s a workhorse who expects everyone else to be as well. If those reports aren’t in his inbox by the time he checks it, I’ll never hear the end of it. The drive back is long and tedious, each mile feeling like a reminder of my oversight.
By the time I finally arrive back home, it's late—really late. The kind of late where the streets are deserted, and the only sounds are the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. Felicity’s light is on, a warm glow in the otherwise dark neighborhood. I don’t bother going over there, even though there’s a small part of me that wants to see her again. Who am I kidding? There’s a huge part of me that longs to see her, to talk to her, to be near her.
I keep my head down as I slip up my front porch, glancing over at her house before heading into mine. That fucking boyfriend of hers is there, knocking on her door, and for some reason, I find myself wanting to stick around for the show. Maybe I like torturing myself, or maybe it’s because I hate the guy. There’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way, and it’s more than just jealousy.
I sit in the shadows, watching and waiting. When Felicity finally opens her door, there’s a scowl written so clearly all over her face. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but it’s obvious she’s not happy. It makes my lips lift slightly into a smirk. She parks her hands on her curvy hips, her posture radiating anger and defiance. She speaks to him sharply, and he backs up, looking chastised. Next thing I know, she’s slamming the door in his face.
Serves him right.
He stomps over to where his little Camry is parked, his face a mask of frustration and anger. Our eyes meet, and I nod my head at him, a silent acknowledgment of his defeat. He doesn’t nod back. In fact, he appears even angrier at the sight of me, like I’m the one responsible for his troubles. I laugh it off as I head back inside my house.