Chapter 6
Baby Got Back
If receiving rapid-fire shocking news were a competition, I’d be winning first place today, hands down. And I have the receipts to prove it.
A thousand-dollar rent increase hit my inbox this morning.
Check.
A routine endocrinology appointment ends with me holding a positive pregnancy test.
Check.
A conversation with my baby’s daddy turns into an unexpected marriage proposal—and he refuses to take no for an answer.
Check.
One minute, Heath was taunting me for showing up on his doorstep, and the next, he was down on one knee, asking me to be his wife as casually as if he were ordering a cheeseburger with a Coke and a side of fries.
I want to be mad about it, I really do, but I can’t stop thinking about how he claimed the baby without question. It’s more than my own dad ever did for me, and watching Heath ready to step up in the most permanent way possible is stupidly attractive.
A small, irrational part of me is also jealous of the speck growing inside me for being the reason he made such a grand declaration and proposed. It was strictly about doing the right thing, and I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it.
As a little girl, I never dreamed about white dresses or a big fairy-tale wedding.
I’ve been in survival mode for so long that I’ve never had the luxury to picture anything beyond a short-term fling or to imagine what it might be like to be someone’s first choice.
Even so, thinking about accepting a marriage proposal built on obligation rather than love is harder than I expected, even with someone as intolerable as Heath.
I’ve just gotten back to the shop, and while I should be labeling new products and prepping the storefront for tomorrow, I decide to text the girls for some moral support instead.
Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat
Charlie: SOS
Birdie: Where’s the animal in need of rescue?
Charlie: Huh?
Birdie: You just used my code for emergency rescue missions.
Charlie: It’s time to find a new code. SOS should be reserved for life-altering emergencies like the one I’m currently dealing with.
Briar: What’s wrong?
Wren: Can it be fixed with a couple of shots of tequila, or do you need a full therapy session followed by a hot bubble bath?
Charlie: Alcohol is off the table and are hot baths safe for babies?
Wren: Safe for WHAT?!
Oh shit.
Briar: Charlie Rae Bennett, what the hell is going on?
Charlie: I’m pregnant.
I wince as I hit send. That’s certainly one way to break the biggest news of my life to my best friends.
Birdie: Is pregnant code for stress eating your body weight in Taco Bell again?
Charlie: Nope. I literally have a raspberry-sized baby squatting inside me rent-free.
Birdie: Oh. My. Lanta.
Charlie: If any situation warrants the use of profanity, it’s this one.
Birdie: Oh, shit on a stick. How’s that?
Charlie: Not going to lie, that was surprisingly therapeutic.
Briar: Where are you?
Charlie: At the shop.
Briar: I’m leaving my place now to pick up Birdie. We’ll be there soon.
Wren: FaceTime me when you get there.
God, I love these girls.
I’m usually the one jumping headfirst into whatever misadventure Birdie ropes us into, but now the roles are reversed, and I’m the one out of my depth. Unlike our rescue missions, I don’t have a backup plan or exit strategy.
I stretch out on the loveseat against the wall by the register. Larger furniture pieces tend to move quickly, but I’ve decided to keep this one for now. It’s the perfect nap spot, and I suspect I’ll be using it often in the foreseeable future.
I swear I’ve just shut my eyes when the bell above the door jingles, and I crack one open to see Briar and Birdie step inside.
Briar enters first, her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, a few loose tendrils framing her face. Her tanned skin glows from countless hours in the sun, and her brown eyes sweep the shop, likely checking for any customers.
Birdie follows, her blond hair falling in loose curls, a floral bandanna tied around her head. She’s wearing pink overalls paired with white tennis shoes, a bold choice for someone who spends her days wrangling dirt-covered animals.
“Charlie, where are you?” Briar calls out as she slips between an antique wardrobe and a glass-front curio cabinet.
“She’d better not be moving furniture by herself again,” Birdie chimes in.
Last week, I was trying to move a heavy dresser by myself when it tipped over onto a desk.
Thankfully, I ducked out of the way just in time, but I ended up stuck, wedged in the corner of the shop, and had to call the fire department for a rescue.
It was the most exciting thing this town’s ever seen since Birdie was arrested for allegedly stealing a donkey and a cow from the county fair.
I figured everyone would be relieved I got out unscathed, but that didn’t stop the fire chief from citing me for blocked exit routes and cluttered walkways.
I’m assuming he hasn’t been to Helen’s bookshop in the past decade.
It’s a maze of stacked books and narrow paths, practically a fire hazard waiting to happen.
At least my place has a direct route to the register, provided you don’t mind brushing past overstuffed clothing racks and an antique grandfather clock on the way there.
“What on earth… are you okay?” Birdie asks when they reach me, finding me propped up on one elbow on the couch.
“I’ve decided to stay horizontal until further notice,” I declare, my head falling back onto the armrest. “Nobody told me baking a baby would be this exhausting.”
Birdie blinks at me. “Did you just say baking a baby?”
“What else am I supposed to call it? I’m literally an incubator until the thing is fully cooked.”
Briar holds out a cup with the Lasso & Latte logo on it. “You could definitely use this.”
I push myself upright and take it from her. “Have I mentioned how pretty you both look today?” I lift the drink to my lips, stopping short when I notice the order scribbled on the side. “Please tell me this isn’t sugar-free.”
Briar shrugs. “Okay, we won’t tell you.”
I toss my free hand in the air. “Oh, come on. I share life-changing news, and you still bring me a drink that should be banned based on principle. What’s a girl gotta do to get a sugar-packed latte around here?”
“Yesterday you said your numbers have been all over the place, so we figured the sugar-free option was the safest choice to avoid another spike,” Birdie explains, looking entirely too smug about this.
She might be the youngest in our friend group, but that hasn’t stopped her from mothering everyone.
And as much as I’d like to be irritated, her heart is in the right place, and I’m grateful she’s watching out for me.
I’m especially glad she didn’t try to ban caffeine altogether.
I know I’ll have to reduce my daily intake, but there’s zero chance I’m quitting cold turkey.
Briar perches on the armrest beside me and calls Wren.
A moment later, Wren’s face appears on the screen, brows pinched with worry. “Are you at the shop? How is she holding up?”
“Found her sprawled out on the couch, and she’s cranky about the lack of sugar in her latte, but she’ll survive,” Briar reports with a smug grin.
I lean over, sticking my head into the camera’s view. “She’s right here, and very much still alive even though I’m currently subletting my uterus.”
Wren leans closer to the camera, her dark curls falling in loose ringlets around her face. “You’re really pregnant, huh? How’d that happen?”
I place my free hand behind my head and recline in my seat. “I may or may not have had a questionable lapse in judgment the night of Birdie’s wedding and miscalculated the importance of a couple of missed birth control pills.”
“So… who’s the baby daddy?” Briar presses.
“Given how few single men there are in Bluebell, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out,” Wren tosses in.
I nibble my bottom lip as heat rises to my cheeks. That’s when I get the distinct feeling I’m being watched. When I look up, Birdie is still standing beside the couch, staring at me.
Her eyes suddenly widen as a light bulb has just gone off in her head. “Holy shit. Heath’s the dad, isn’t he?”
“No…” I mutter, frowning when she levels me with a pointed look. “All right, fine. Yeah, it’s him.”
I shouldn’t be surprised she figured it out so quickly. Fewer than fifty people attended the wedding, and now that I think about it, I didn’t really talk to any other single guys that night.
“Hold on, that means I’m going to be an aunt!” Briar blurts out, practically bouncing in her seat, before her expression quickly turns serious. “Wait… is this what you want? You’re our top priority, and we’ll support you no matter how you choose to move forward.”
Birdie comes to sit on my other side, leaning her head against my shoulder. “Yeah, we’re here for whatever you need.”
“You’re not alone in this, Charlie. Not by a long shot,” Wren pipes up from Briar’s phone.
Well, that went better than expected.
“Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it.” I give them all a warm smile, placing my hands over my stomach. “All future plans might be on hold for the next eighteen years, but I’m having this baby.”
Even with all the obstacles in front of me, no decision has felt easier. Not when I can see how loved this little peanut is already, and how quickly I’ve settled into the idea of being a mom—as intimidating as it sounds.
“Have you told Heath?” Briar asks hesitantly.
“I told him a couple of hours ago,” I answer, briefly closing my eyes at the memory.
The sight of him dropping to his knees and taking my hands in his, looking at me like I was his whole world, plays on a loop in my head. It might have been an illusion, but it was a beautiful one nonetheless.
I admit a small part of me can’t help but wonder if I hadn’t left the morning after our one-night stand, would things have been different. It could have turned into a real proposal down the line.