Chapter 12
Best Friends, Becoming A Mom, & Other Chaos
GWEN
Ipace my living room like an addict going through withdrawals. I’m nervous, edgy, and my stomach is in knots. I have my phone pressed to my ear, needing someone to hold me steady. Mallory picks up on the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Mal …” I manage to croak out.
“Okay,” she says at once. “Why do you sound like you’re about to jump off a cliff?”
“I’m meeting Wyatt’s son tonight.” The words still come out sounding strangled. I can’t help it.
“How is this a bad thing, girl?”
“This is his actual child, Mal. A tiny human who might ruin everything just by looking at me and deciding I’m too weird and he doesn’t want me in his father’s life.”
“Gwen, what on earth are you worried about? You’re great with kids!”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Because Mal … I really like Wyatt. I mean really like him—a lot, even.”
Mallory snorts. “Yeah, I think I picked up on that since you’re practically living together and it’s been, what? A week?”
“We’re not living together.”
“Girl, please. Has he or has he not been at your house every freaking night this week?”
I groan, knowing I can’t deny it. “Can we get back to the part where I don’t know anything about being a mom and he has a five-year-old?”
“First of all, you won’t be his mom,” Mal says. “You will be an adult in his life and a friend. Eventually a stepmom and—”
“We’re not getting married! We’re just dating,” I cut her off, horrified.
She bursts into laughter. “Girl, are you even listening to yourself? You say you don’t know anything about being a mom, but the second I say stepmom, you basically stroke out.
Why can’t you admit that you’re in love with this guy and you want this relationship to work?
That’s why you’re freaked out about meeting his son, and we both know it. ”
I flop backward onto my bed, one arm thrown over my eyes.
“Fine. I want this to work out. I haven’t ever felt this way before, and it’s insane.
It scares the hell out of me because I’ve barely had any time with this man, but he already means more to me than any other man ever has.
I don’t even know what to do with that, Mal. ”
Her voice softens. “Gwennie, I need you to listen to me. Stop worrying about everything. Just enjoy getting to know Wyatt and spending time with him and his son. Just be you. I promise if you do that, both father and son will love you just as much as the rest of us do.”
“What if I invest in this and it blows up in my face?” I whisper.
“What happens if you don’t try?” she counters, “and you lose what could be the best thing that has ever happened to you?”
I let out a dramatic groan. “I hate when you try to be reasonable—especially when I’m in the middle of a freakout. It’s very rude of you.”
She laughs. “I love you. Now—wear your favorite jeans and that V-neck turquoise sweater that makes your hair look gorgeous and shows off your tan.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, Mommy.”
“Call me first thing in the morning and let me know how it went.”
“Fine,” I grumble.
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I stare at my phone for a few seconds, chewing my bottom lip. Okay. Time to get ready. I sit up—only to freeze when movement in my peripheral catches my attention.
Buddy is packing.
Now, I know how insane that is, but that’s exactly what he’s doing.
He has his favorite toy—a yellow duck with a flat, crinkly beak—hanging from his mouth, waddling determinedly toward the door.
When I look closer, I see there are already two toys sitting there, like he’s got a little suitcase of essentials ready to go. He drops the duck and stares at me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “You’re not going with me tonight.”
Buddy barks once, then growls dramatically, like I’ve insulted his ancestors.
“No. You can’t. I am going to meet Wyatt’s son. I’m already nervous enough.”
He barks again, louder.
“No,” I repeat.
Buddy immediately flips onto his back, covers his eyes with his paws, and lets out the most pitiful whine I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s like I’ve killed his best friend.
“Buddy …” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Wyatt has already renamed you and basically stolen you. If I take you to his house again, he might keep you!”
Buddy barks twice and jumps toward me like a furry missile. I catch him, and he burrows into me, whining again—long, dramatic, begging sounds that should win him an Oscar.
“Dang it, Buddy.” He whimpers again, softer. “Fine. I’ll take you. But if he keeps you and you don’t come home with me, I’ll never forgive you, you little traitor.” Buddy barks triumphantly and sprints back to the door, plopping down proudly among his toys like a child waiting for the school bus.
I shake my head and sigh. “God, I’m in over my head with you and Wyatt. The two of you together will make sure I never survive.”
Buddy gives another bark, smug as hell.
I turn back, heading to my closet. It’s time to get ready. Right now, I’m just praying I survive the night. Because I’m starting to worry I won’t.