2. Bertie
BERTIE
If I thought telling Luke had my stomach feeling like scrambled eggs, then it has nothing on telling his mom. I’m certain her reaction will probably go over better than telling my parents, but that didn’t stop me from pulling over before I reached their driveway so I could throw up again.
The bright red front door swings open and my heart jolts as Luke steps outside barefoot.
His wavy hair is weighed down with dampness from the shower.
The black t-shirt he wears is so threadbare it’s nearly a gray, but it looks so soft and delectable that I almost want to snatch it off of him and cuddle with it.
God, my hormones have me all sorts of out of whack.
He narrows his eyes at me through the windshield, and I wonder what I’ve done to put that disgruntled look on his handsome face when I realize I’m using yet another one of my travel toothbrushes.
Luke ducks back inside the house for a moment and then pops out with shoes on, striding determinedly over to my car.
He opens my door. “You were sick again.”
I flash him the brightest smile I can muster. “Is that supposed to be a question?”
He smells so fresh and clean that I have to resist the urge to bury my face in that soft looking t-shirt.
“Are you able to keep anything down?” he asks with obvious concern.
He reaches into the car and undoes my seatbelt. “Hey,” I gripe, but he ignores me and takes my empty hand to haul me out. I reach back in the car to toss the toothbrush in the trashcan I’ve taken to keeping in my car.
He peers around me and spots the trashcan, concern etching the corners of his mouth.
He closes my car door and presses a gentle hand to the small of my back. “Bertie, are you eating at all?”
My shoulders droop. “I’m trying, I swear. But everything seems to make me nauseous.”
“Maybe my mom will know how to help.” He mutters it under his breath, so I think the words might be more for him than me.
“She’s not home yet,” I say accusingly as he leads me inside.
“She’ll be here any minute.” He pads over to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Coke. “Think you can drink some of this?”
“We’ll see.”
He unscrews the top and passes it to me. I take the world’s smallest sip and wait to see if my stomach recoils.
Luke leans back casually and braces his arms behind him on the countertop.
His biceps bulge in a way that has my mouthwatering.
I’m overwhelmed by him. He’s so big—tall and broad and extremely fit from hockey—but it’s more than just his looks.
It’s him. Luke is one of the sweetest men I’ve ever met, and extremely shy, but there’s still this presence about him that sucks me straight into his orbit.
I think it’s why I avoided him so steadfastly after we first hooked up freshman year.
I knew even then that Luke Covey was a rare, one-of-a-kind man, one I could get lost in forever.
I ran far and fast, and yet here I am, pulled back into his gravity.
This time, there will be no leaving. We’re stuck together for life thanks to the little nugget growing inside me.
My stomach roils at the thought. Apparently, I am not one of those women who marvels in wonder at being pregnant—no, I am horrified by the idea of it all.
I fear I might faint when I feel this baby move.
I envy those women who make pregnancy look so wonderful and magical.
This whole thing feels like I’ve been invaded by an alien.
“I want to go next time.”
“Huh?” My eyes dart around like I might find writing on the wall for what he’s referring to. Something tells me I missed whatever he said prior.
“To the doctor.” He pulls the sonogram out of his pocket. “I want to be there.”
“Oh.” I go to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear out of habit, but I put my hair back in a ponytail a few hours ago since I kept getting sick.
I let my hand fall listlessly to my side.
“Yeah. Okay.” Silence descends upon us and I’ve never been one to feel awkward in the quiet until now.
“I’ve only been once,” I blurt. “I don’t want you to think I’ve been a bunch of times and didn’t tell you. ”
He rubs his hand over the back of his head. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me, B. I can’t imagine as a woman what the past weeks have been like.”
His words should comfort me, and they do somewhat, but seriously does this guy get ruffled by nothing? He seems to take everything in stride. I envy that ability. While he stays calm, cool, and collected I’m a mess.
The front door to the small rancher opens then and I look over my shoulder to find his mom, Jocelyn, coming in. She looks tired but a beaming smile immediately adorns her face when she sees me.
“Bertie,” she crows. “So good to see you. I wondered where you’d disappeared to. Luke said you’ve been busy.”
I glance back at him and he shrugs. Of course, he’d try to make me look good to his mom instead of telling her the truth—that I’ve been avoiding him.
“Yeah, you know just trying to stay on top of things ahead of graduation.”
“I’m going to make dinner after I shower if you’d like to stay.”
She sets her bags down and opens her arms for a hug.
My eyes widen in surprise. Open affection is not something I’m used to—and one of my fears now that I’m pregnant.
I want to make sure I show this kid how much I love them but considering I didn’t have the best role models in that department it’s a bit terrifying.
I hug her back, watching Luke over her shoulder. His lips tick up slightly on the left side.
“I really should go. I don’t want to impose on you guys.”
“Stay,” Luke says, the one word probably the most demanding he’s ever sounded in all the time I’ve known him.
“Yes, please stay,” she reiterates with a pat on my cheek. “I won’t be long.”
Before I can protest again, or blurt out that I’m carrying her grandchild, she heads down the hall and into her bedroom.
I collapse onto the couch in the living room and Luke follows, scooping up the bottle of Coke I left behind on the counter.
“Another sip,” he demands. “You need the sugar.”
“Are you my doctor now?” I scoff good-naturedly and accept the drink.
“I’m your concerned…” He trails off, face twisting in confusion.
“Baby daddy?”
He practically chokes. “I really don’t want to be called that.”
“Fair enough. I don’t want to be called your baby momma, either.
We’re…” I find myself at the same loss he is.
We’re not technically together, we never made things truly official, but we’re certainly more than friends.
Calling him my boyfriend, though, seems like a step too far. “We’re figuring it out,” I settle on.
“We’re figuring it out,” he repeats, sitting down on the coffee table across from me.
That silence fills the air again, so of course I start babbling.
“What are we going to do? We’re graduating and you’re joining the NHL and I’m … I have no idea what I’m doing to be honest.” I fan my face with my hands because I suddenly feel too hot all over. “And now this?” My voice goes high-pitched on the end. “What if I’m not cut out for this?”
He grabs one of my wrists in a gentle hold, tugging the flailing limb away from my face. I let my other hand drop into my lap.
“Hey.” His tone is gentle, like he’s comforting a wounded animal. “Breathe.”
He mimes breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. I follow suit and after a few breaths, I do begin to feel better.
“You’re overthinking this whole thing, B.”
I feel that same panic threatening to swell inside me once more. “I don’t think you’re panicking enough. This is a human being we’re talking about, one we’re going to have to raise and teach to be a decent person and keep them alive and stuff.”
He laughs softly and I can’t help but swat at his knee. “Sorry,” he says, but he’s still laughing.
“It’s not funny.” I pout slightly. “This is scary.”
He sobers instantly. “I know, I know. But getting yourself worked up isn’t good for you or the baby.”
The baby—I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to hearing someone say that.
When Luke’s mom finally emerges from her bedroom, freshly showered and changed into the softest looking pair of worn jeans and an oversized sweater—I’m antsier than I ever thought possible.
I give Luke a silent look. “We have to tell her,” I mouth.
There’s no way I can stomach eating dinner here without her knowing. God only knows if I can stomach it with her knowing.
“Hey, Mom,” Luke says softly. “Can we talk for a minute before you start dinner?”
“Yeah, of course.” She turns around from the fridge with a Coke. She plops in the chair and looks between us. “What’s up?” She looks between the two of us and I see the slow dawn of realization settle on her face.
“Mom—” Luke starts. He rubs his hands together nervously. “Bertie and I—”
“Are having a baby?” She finishes for him.
He ducks his head. “Yeah, we are.”
She’s quiet, looking between the two of us. Obviously, I didn’t expect her to jump up and down in elation, but I’m not sure I expected silence either.
She seems to be processing it, though, slowly nodding to herself. Finally, she turns to me and places a gentle hand on my knee. “How are you feeling, sweetie?”
“Horrible,” I admit with a nearly hysterical laugh. “I’m so sick all of the time.”
She gives me a small, understanding smile. “I was so sick all the time with this one.”
Luke gives a soft chuckle. “I told her.”
“I lived off oatmeal and ice pops for the first few months. How far along are you?”
“A few days away from fourteen weeks.”
“You should be almost through the worst of it.” She takes a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She turns her attention to Luke. Her tone isn’t accusing, more curious than anything else.