Chapter 16 Jamie #2
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Jameson. I never said I was disappointed.
But sugarcoating life never helped anyone.
Life isn’t easy on a good day, and you’re in the middle of a complicated situation, son.
We watched that girl grow up. We watched her break.
And we watched Finn hold her together. Protect her.
She needs to be your first priority. Family first. But don’t forget your brother is your family too. Yours and hers.”
“I know he is, and we’ll talk to him,” I promise.
But Ashton and I need to talk first.
Ashton
Sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of ginger tea I pray settles my raging stomach, I stare at the local number that’s called my cell phone three times in the past five minutes. I don’t want to answer it, but I’m almost certain I know who it is, even if I don’t recognize it. But what if it’s not?
Fuck it.
I slide my thumb across the screen, hoping I’m wrong. “Hello?”
“Will you accept a collect call from the Philadelphia Women’s Correctional Facility?”
Nope.
Hell no.
I don’t bother answering before ending the call.
Why couldn’t I have been wrong?
I’m not doing this today. I can’t. There’s not enough caffeine in the world to make handling my mother an option right now, and as of this morning, I’ve given up caffeine.
It might be the only thing I know for sure about being pregnant, but I know caffeine isn’t good for the baby.
Damn it. I add getting a book about pregnancy to my growing to-do list.
Talk to Jamie
Find an ob-gyn
Get health insurance
Call Dad
Add decaf coffee to the grocery list
Talk to Finn
Buy a book on pregnancy/maybe get a few
Audiobook???
Closing the Notes app, I flip my phone over and shove it away before staring at it like it’s a bug I want to squash, and I hate bugs.
Why does everything on that list feel like a gigantic feat?
I stare at the pink phone case until the damn thing rings. Again
This time, a different local number I don’t recognize flashes on the screen.
Nope. Not answering. Nice try, Mom.
I bring my Notes app back up.
Maybe I could start with Audible . . . There’s got to be an audio version of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. I’ll start there. That’s doable.
With just a few swipes, I’ve got it and the new audiobook from Natalie Sinclair added to my cart.
Okay, and maybe some Ghirardelli dark-chocolate raspberry squares too.
Not like I’m going to have a tutu back on any time soon.
Pretty sure the Philadelphia Ballet won’t be taking a dancer who’s six months pregnant at auditions.
Sounds like a good time to indulge for once in my life.
Time to one-click these bitches.
The dopamine hit I’m expecting once I’ve checked out doesn’t come, but at least I can mark one thing off my list.
Talk to Jamie
Find an ob-gyn
Get health insurance
Call Dad
Add decaf coffee to the grocery list
Talk to Finn
Buy a book on pregnancy/maybe get a few
Audiobook???
I read through the list again.
Thankfully, Finn isn’t home, so he’s not even an option. I’m not ready to have that conversation yet either. Looks like I’m just hiding from all my responsibilities at the moment. Solid plan as plans go. That’s worked so well for me in the past.
Maybe I could rearrange the list in order of importance. Or maybe in order of time sensitivity . . . Who am I kidding? Let’s go with easiest first. Small victories and all that shit.
Who knows, maybe a few small victories will build my confidence up enough to tackle a few of the bigger ones. I mean, I doubt it, but what the hell do I know?
Okay, what I do know is my pity party is annoying me, and it’s pretty bad when you’re annoying yourself.
Time to pull my big girl panties up and maybe not think about just how much bigger they’re going to get when I’m nine months pregnant.
Maybe I’ll finally get boobs.
I look down at my A cups that occasionally look like little small B’s.
Shit. Are they going to get huge too?
Maybe no more chocolate.
With a few swipes, I pull up the grocery list, add decaf to it and apples instead of chocolate, then go back into the other list and rearrange it again. And yes, I keep add decaf on there just so I can cross that sucker off. Cheating? Maybe? But seriously . . . small victories.
Add decaf coffee to the grocery list
Buy a book on pregnancy or maybe get a few.
Call Dad
Talk to Jamie
Find an ob-gyn
Get health insurance
Talk to Finn
Audiobook???
Stopping by Hopeless Romantics this week should be easy, so it won’t be that hard to get a book on pregnancy.
One I can make notes in. It’s not like Dillan doesn’t already know I’m pregnant.
She was the one who shoved a bottle of water at me, then handed me the stick to pee on.
Not something I ever thought I’d be saying.
Which leaves calling Dad next.
I mean, he’s my dad. How hard can it be?
Oh right . . . Really fucking hard.
Especially because this time, I’m the one about to postpone our lunch.
When staring at the phone doesn’t magically dial him for me, I suck it up and force my fingers to move, and a few seconds later, his face flashes on my screen with the old photo I’ve saved as his contact. “Hey, honey. How are you?”
How am I?
Yeah . . . that’s a great question.
I mean . . . I guess I could tell him that I had a complete breakdown last night before I had to tell my baby daddy he was going to be a baby daddy. But I don’t.
I could also tell him Kyrie’s teething or that Mom’s still in jail.
Or maybe that I’ve spoken with a family attorney so I can adopt the sister he still doesn’t know exists and raise her as my own.
But that just seems cruel since again, he doesn’t even know she exists or that she’s living with me.
I’m really going to have to fix that at some point.
“I’m good, Dad.” Kind of . . . “A little tired—” Okay, at least that’s not a lie. “How are you?”
“Well, the season is about to start, so things are about to get hectic. You remember how it is.” Yeah .
. . that’s always his answer. Ask him about himself and he talks about the team.
I’ve never known what I’m supposed to do with that.
Still don’t. “I’m looking forward to our lunch this week. Do you want me to pick you up?”
I cringe. This is so much easier when he’s the one bailing.
“About that, Dad . . . I hate to do it, but can we push it back? I’ve got a few things I need to take care of, and I’m just—”
“Don’t worry about it, honey. You let me know what works for you, okay?
Are you still staying with Jamie Murphy?
” I hesitate, and the pause between us is as pregnant as I am.
“I know I don’t have a right to ask, Ashton, but the man is my line captain.
I’d rather hear it from you than from team chatter. ”
Oh shit, I close my eyes. That’s the least of the chatter he should probably be concerned with. “I’m still here. But we can catch up over lunch. I’ve got so much to fill you in on.” Understatement of the century. “I’ll text you when I know my schedule next week, okay?”
“Sure. Let me know if you need anything, honey.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I disconnect the call and drop my head to the table as another wave of nausea hits hard. Only this time, I’m not sure if it’s the hormones or the family causing it.
Fuck being an adult.
The alarm sensors in the house chime, alerting me to a door opening, and I glance over at the security screen on the counter and watch as Jamie carries a sleeping Kyrie inside.
Her bow sits askew on her head and doesn’t match the outfit he’s chosen for her, but none of that matters.
Not when she’s in Jamie’s massive arms, passed out against his chest.
Oh dear . . . this isn’t good.
Because watching him with her is like getting a glimpse into my future, and it looks good. Really good. Mouthwateringly good.
Damn it.
There’s nothing like a sexy man holding a baby—your baby—to make your overactive hormones wake up and take notice. And this man is so sexy. Too sexy.
Am I allowed to want to jump my baby daddy?
Because I’m thinking that should be a pregnancy perk. Right?
I listen as he takes the steps upstairs, probably to lay her down for a nap.
Guess there’s only one way to find out.