2. Rosie
2
ROSIE
SIX WEEKS LATER
M y arm hangs off the bed as I lie on my side. Nothing is going to cure this nausea that has made my life hell. Mumbling a sound, I slide my eyes to the floor where a pregnancy test fell out of my hand probably an hour ago when lying down won over the shock because the urge to purge is too strong.
Of course, nothing is going to cure my nausea. Because I have to wait for a baby to come out.
What kind of woman am I?
I broke a man’s heart, returned to his life, slept with him, and then got pregnant.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Any of it.
Nobody wants to be divorced, but especially before turning thirty. Nor do I want to feel as though he let me go because I selfishly thought there was more in the world to see, needed to find myself. I haven’t figured out if that was the biggest lie of the century or if it might have shaped my personality differently. Carter has every right to hate me, but I’m angry too. So easily, he signed divorce papers without any fight.
Joke’s on us. Now, we’ve circled back to one another whether we intended to or not.
It was just too natural to talk with him and stare into his gleaming brown eyes. He seems to have gotten better-looking with age, and his hair is a little shorter in the back. I should have been responsible and not let us even kiss, but it didn’t cross my mind because it seemed that nothing was stopping him, either.
My desire to have his cock inside of me erased logic.
Carter is the man who always brought me joy because I was able to loosen him up, while for the most part, he kept me grounded. Two opposites.
The moment I laid eyes on Carter back then, I knew he would be my husband. It was lust, perhaps. We got carried away because he made me weak in the best possible way. That still seems to be the case.
Now I’m weak for other reasons.
A knock on my door fills me with dread, and the rhythm of the knock informs me of who it is. “Go away, Bella.”
My little sister doesn’t listen because she has no boundaries. Knocking on the door is only for show.
Bella charges in, and I want to hide the test, but physically I can’t move and mentally I give up on the world right now.
“Mom and Dad want to have the weekly Blisswood dinner here next week. Apparently, we’ve been put on dessert duty.” Because that’s what happens when you go travel the world and return from your nomad life. You end up living temporarily at your parents’ house.
She almost skips into the room with her bubbly personality in full force. Bella’s home for the summer after graduating college and is insistent the world is peachy because she has her first job in marketing over in Lake Spark for the hockey team.
“Okay.” I can barely keep my eyes open because another wave of fatigue and nausea hits me.
She plops herself on the edge of my bed. “Mom also wanted me to ask if you need anything from the store. She said you have a summer virus.”
My brows rise, and I smile cynically to myself. “Sure, that’s what it is,” I mundanely reply.
“Are you feeling alright? You look a little the worse for wear.” She begins to rub my back.
“I’ll be fine if you go away and let me be,” I request, but it’s useless, she won’t even hear it.
In the corner of my eye, she seems to be peeking over my body to the floor.
Shit.
“Is that what I think it is?”
I don’t answer, instead letting her solve the mystery herself when she stands and slowly leans down to stare at the test.
Her jaw drops, and she covers her mouth with her hands. “You’re pregnant?” she shrieks.
This is the moment that I push past the struggle and drag my body up to sitting. “Can you keep it down? As in, don’t let this news leave this room.”
She looks at me, completely confused. “I don’t understand. Who have you even been seeing? Is it that new guy who is helping out at Olive Owl, the guy with cowboy vibes?”
I rub my temples and release a calming breath. “Don’t ask questions. I’ll tell you, but I’m pulling in the sister-oath card.”
There is struggle on her face, but she gives in. “Fine.” She crosses her arms.
“Carter.”
She doesn’t grasp it until two seconds later when her eyes turn to saucers. “No effing way. Your ex-husband?”
My palm flies up to stop her. “Yes, now can you just… I don’t know. Let me figure this out.”
Oh no, that swirl in my stomach is back and traveling up my body. I won’t even make it to the bathroom. I lunge forward and grab the small waste bin near my desk just in time to hurl out my peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s been this way for two days.
Bella watches from the sidelines, completely still, possibly more in shock than I was about an hour ago.
Emptying my stomach never felt so good, despite the sheen of sweat breaking out on my forehead and the fact that I just threw up, but little wins.
Finally, my sister steps forward in an attempt to help and holds the bin as I stand and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
“This isn’t a drill. That test thingy on the floor is right.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “No need to be snappy.”
“Sorry. I’m just…”
“Pregnant,” she flippantly supplies.
Blowing out a long exhale, I give up in defeat to fate. “Yes.”
She sets the bin down and encourages me to come sit next to her on my bed. “What are you going to do?”
“Keep this little vulture inside of me, who is probably cute and will have my button nose and Carter’s eyes.”
She nudges my shoulder with her own. “Hate to break the bubble, but when are you going to tell him?”
Thinking about it for a few ticks, I don’t debate it for long. “I would say I’d wait until I go to the doctor, but it’s pretty obvious that I’m 100% pregnant.”
“Like, how did it even happen? I mean, I know you ran into him at the wedding for Hailey and Oliver, but I didn’t think you two, you know…” She gawks her eyes at me.
“We were drunk or maybe not that drunk. Damn it, we should have used one of those little alcohol measuring thingies, a breathalyzer, that he uses when he is on sheriff duty. It might be worse if we were sober.”
“Why? Because you both still have feelings for one another?”
Rubbing my face, I’m well aware that I’m going to need to shower and rinse my mouth, but I can’t move yet. “Can you just be quiet for a second? No need to play therapist right now.”
Bella stands again and shrugs while walking to the bathroom. “It’s obvious,” she calls out and disappears, and I hear the faucet, only for her to return with a wet washcloth for me. “If you accidentally sleep with your ex-husband then you need to re-assess if you actually ever had closure.”
My chest constricts because a dash of anger boils inside me. I’m mad at myself. I can’t fix what I’ve done, and I’m not going to let a child be the reason that we feel we need to be together.
“Again, save your thoughts for yourself.” I pat my mouth, and the coolness of the water feels refreshing. “One day at a time. A reminder that this stays between these four walls. The last thing I need is everyone approaching me with a million questions.”
“You have my word. But seriously, when will you tell him?”
I sigh. “Tomorrow. Can I borrow your car? Mine is with the mechanic because they are fixing a light.”
“Of course.”
“Yippee, telling my baby daddy the news.” I lack enthusiasm in my tone.
This baby is unexpected, but he or she will be loved, and that’s what matters the most.
* * *
Driving on the county road outside of Everhope on this clear summer day, I’m always reminded of how beautiful it is. After leaving corn fields, you drive through lush green hills with horses on one side and the upcoming skyline of tall trees that line the river. I get a little chance to soak in the scenery because I’m not exactly driving pedal to the metal.
I’ve successfully kept the contents on my stomach inside for an hour more than average, and I can still enjoy wearing my jeans and tank, though I’m aware that it won’t be possible in a few months. But still, between nausea and my fear that anything might hurt the baby, I’m acting a little overdramatic, but I’ll stick to my fifteen-mile limit.
In my defense, my nerves are also preventing me from concentrating. It’s my goal to make it to Everhope and find Carter. I didn’t exactly send him a text or give him a call because that would just keep us both in suspense until we talk in person.
It’s been six weeks since I’ve seen him and six weeks where parts of that night have been running on a loop in my head. The moment he pulled his shirt off his shoulders and the second his mouth trailed along the path to my panties. I’m pretty sure he plunged his cock inside of me so hard that I gasped, the way only he can make me feel.
We transpired, but it’s something we clearly needed to get out.
Skin-to-skin does things to people, and it’s only caused mixed emotions in me since. I replay our marriage, and I question my choices, but then I remind myself that everything happens for a reason and thinking our road ended, but it turns out it was only a detour.
Leaving the warmth of his bed the moment I woke doesn’t add any points for me either. It was just too confronting, and what were we going to do? Chat over eggs and coffee? And now? I’m not sure what he’ll think of me.
I grab a cracker from the cupholder because I’ve been keeping a stash there for the whole forty-minute drive, and just as I’m mid-chomp, the sound of a siren hits my ears. Quickly, I glance in the rear-view mirror to see a police car.
Groaning, I turn the wheel and pull onto the side of the road onto the white gravel that crunches under my tires. The light from the police car twirls red and blue in my side-view mirror, and I already feel as though I’ll need to offer an overdone smile.
I roll down the window before turning my engine off. I slouch back into my seat and wonder what the hell I’ve done. It’s probably only a broken taillight or something.
I stare at the crackers, the kind with that fake cheese in the middle, and debate if now is the time to snack, but my stomach is a little wavy.
The sound of steps on gravel grows louder until in the corner of my eye, I see a uniform.
“Miss, you’re going a little too slow.”
No. Oh no.
That timbre is more than familiar.
Just as Carter rests his arm on the roof of the car and leans in, I slowly turn with a lopsided smile. I glance up, and he looks down.
Boom .
We both feel the match that lights tension on fire.
“Rosie.” There may be a little disdain in his voice.
“Sheriff Carter,” I reply curtly. My formality causes a twitch on the corner of his mouth.
“You’re back in town, I see.” He stands taller and rolls his shoulders back, adjusting to our unplanned meeting.
“Actually…”
Abruptly, he opens the door. “Get out of the car.”
Wait, what? “Uhm, why?”
“You know people get tickets for going too slow?”
“I was concerned by a squirrel crossing the road,” I lie.
He steps to the side, still indicating for me to get out of the car. Obliging, I do, a little irritated but purely because he’s hiding behind that sexy badge and uniform of his and not telling me what he is really thinking for our first encounter since our sex-crazed night.
“Why are you back in Everhope?” He stares at me peculiarly yet with curiousity.
“Actually, I was on the search for…”
Really? Now? This baby decides this is the moment to do this to me? That horrible rolling vomit travels up my body, and I begin to gag. The next thing I know, I lean to the side to puke all over the ground. I avoid examining the ground that has fallen victim to my bodily fluids. My mouth tastes disgusting and the smell rancid. And when I look up as I trudge my body slowly back to standing, I see that Carter’s brows are raised with a shade of concern in his eyes but also uncertainty of what the hell just happened.
“I’m pregnant.” It bolts out of my mouth completely unplanned, but for some reason, my subconscious decided to just go for it. I touch my mouth as if my lips can confirm what I just said. None of this is going the way I planned.
His piercing brown eyes flutter then squeeze shut, only to open a second later. An uneasy grin begins to drag across his mouth. “You’re kidding me, right?” He thinks I’m joking.
I shake my head to his question and remain serious. “I came to tell you. Not like this, obviously.” I hold up a finger to pause him when I begin to lurch, only to drop my hands to my thighs as I hunch over, prepared to throw up again, but then it begins to fade away and I’m in the clear. “Phew. False alarm.”
“Clearly not a false pregnancy test,” he quips.
Slowly rising, I see him with his hands on his hips which brings my attention to his belt with his cuffs. Ah, those were some good times. I snap out of it when I see he is still adjusting to the news I just shared.
Stepping forward, I stop when I realize my instinct is to touch him in comfort. I’m not sure the protocol in this situation.
“We weren’t careful.”
“Like at all,” he intones in agreement.
“Exactly, so here we are.” And we should probably question why we were easily so careless.
An unnerving silence wraps around us, and all I can hear is a bird in the distance, an eagle perhaps.
His eyes are fixed on me and then drop to my stomach then zip back to my face. He steps back and laughs bitterly to himself. “Unbelievable.”
I don’t want him to say it out loud. The irony that he wanted a family, and I wasn’t ready then. Now, when we are divorced, here I am telling him I’m pregnant. What he always dreamed of but now the wrong time.
“So, we’re doing this. Having a baby.” The tail end of his sentence almost sounds like a question, and I’m disappointed that he thinks he needs to ask if I’m choosing another path.
“Yes,” I confirm. “We’re doing this.” I don’t even bother saying to him that he has an out and I’ll do it alone, because I know him inside out and he wouldn’t run away from this. Not in a million years.
The back of his curled finger wipes his upper lip as he contemplates. “Sorry, but if memory serves me correctly, you didn’t want kids yet.”
My mouth parts open from his scornful words. “Well, things change. People change.” I have a very different view now, and I’m ready to be a mom.
He glances off into the distance right before he steps forward, closing our space, and his hands land on my hips, causing my breath to hitch from the surprise of his sudden touch. My eyes search his and see a man who is fully fueled with his dominant side because of a switch that was flipped ten seconds ago. He walks me back two steps until my back is against the car. In another time, he would’ve flipped me around and cuffed me in bed.
But now? He’s unreadable.
Even more so when his hands move gently, sliding to the side and catching the edge of my tank top to lift just an inch. The feeling of his warm palms rest against my belly, pressing firmly. A tremor runs through me that is purely due to his touch; my body is sensitive to him.
“We’re having a baby,” he rasps.
My heart pinches with relief and joy, even though we’re now in a complex dynamic.
“Yes,” I whisper.
His eyes travel between his hands on my belly and my eyes. The smile creeping up on his face could warm anybody’s soul.
His entire face brightens, causing my body to release relief and my own elation with this news.
A baby.
Finally, for the first time in days since I started to suspect I was pregnant, I can stop for a moment to let excitement kick in.
“Are you feeling okay? Who else knows? Do you have cravings? When is the doctor’s appointment?” he lists and begins to pat my arms, shoulders, and stomach, because clearly he feels he now went to medical school and can examine me. It’s endearing, to be honest.
“Slow down.” I grin. “Doctor’s appointment is in a few weeks. For a few days now, I can only eat crackers now and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches sometimes. I don’t think that’s a craving, though. It’s more my nausea is really bad, as you can see.” I gesture down to the ground at our side a few feet away, and we both cringe at the sight of my stomach contents before bringing our gaze back to one another.
“You’re throwing up a lot?”
I puff my cheeks before scoffing a laugh. “You could say that again. It’s normal. Still, it’s how I kind of figured that, well…” I point to myself, up and down. “I’m pregnant.”
“Who else knows?”
“Bella. By chance, really. She came into my room when the test was on the floor. I threw up in her presence too, in case you’re wondering.”
He brushes his fingers across his lips as he seems to be contemplating something, and his face turns stoic.
“Right. You’ve been living at home for a while.”
“Yes,” I admit. “Wait, are you still going to give me a ticket?” I joke, because suddenly it feels the moment could use one.
I notice his throat move with a swallow. “No. But you are going to move in with me,” he demands firmly.
The entire earth stops.
Because he isn’t joking.