10. Sawyer
SAWYER
- Nothing fits, and I hate everything
- Kegel practice
“I’m going to crash out, Liv. I swear to god,” I muttered into the phone. Jumping up and down, I tried to stretch the denim fabric across my belly to button my jeans. I’d taken to keeping them secured with a hair tie, but it seemed that little trick was no longer working.
Great. Just fucking great.
To say that the last five and a half months of my life weren’t some of the worst I’d experienced would be a lie.
I thought pregnancy was supposed to be this magical experience that left me overflowing with happiness.
Instead, I was still fighting for my life to keep food down, exhausted entirely, and none of my clothes fit.
How the hell people could go through this and still feel the need to do it multiple times was beyond me.
To each their own, I guess, but count me out. I would most definitely not be doing this again. Not even if I had a partner present to shower me with affection.
“Don’t crash out,” Olivia said, her tone even. If there was one thing I loved the woman, it was her innate ability to keep calm in almost any high-pressure situation. “We just need to go shopping.”
My boss had not only become one of my best friends, but also my greatest confidant.
She’d gone with me to every single doctor’s appointment so I wouldn’t be alone, held my hand beneath the stall at work when I couldn’t stop throwing up, and listened to me tearfully and very loudly bemoan ever losing my virginity.
“I can’t fucking afford to go shopping,” I muttered angrily, blinking away the tears. “I needed these to last a few more weeks at least.”
Her sigh was weary. We had this argument every few days like clockwork. “I will buy you—”
“Liv, you’ve done enough. You can’t be my sugar momma forever. At some point, I have to stand on my own two feet.”
“There is a vast difference between standing on your own two feet and letting me buy you some goddamn clothes. Consider it a uniform stipend. You can’t come to work naked. It isn’t that kind of establishment.”
“You say that like I don’t know what you and Duke get up to when you’re closing by yourselves,” I muttered, shivering at the memory of Duke’s hairy ass on full display when I forgot my purse last week.
“That was one time!”
“It most certainly was not,” I deadpanned. “And you know it.”
She didn’t deny it this time. “You’d save us both a lot of time and energy if you’d just shut up and accept my offer. Think about how comfortable it’ll be when you don’t have to hold your jeans together by a fucking rubber band.”
Liv was right. I was being stubborn beyond belief by not accepting her help.
It just wasn’t something I wanted to get used to.
At what point would she grow tired of supporting me past the wages I earned?
She’d done more than enough, filling the space in my room with countless boxes of clothes and baby essentials.
I was actually scared to think about how overboard she’d go for the baby shower she insisted on throwing next month.
Everything was overwhelming. I was in way over my head, and time was slipping away. Before long, my little man would be here. I couldn’t run to Liv to fix all my problems.
But maybe I could let her fix this one as a consolation.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I waved my verbal white flag. “Fine. You can buy me a couple of pairs of jeans.”
Her voice was positively giddy. “And shirts. Ooh, maybe a few dresses and skirts, too. You need some options for your baby shower and maternity photos—”
“Oh my god, Liv. Stop it. I let you plan the baby shower because there were genuine tears in your eyes when I told you no, but I draw the line at photos.”
“Unfortunately for you, they’re non-negotiable. Think of the memories! You’ll want to document this. Especially if you’re only doing this once,” she said.
“I can snap a few on my phone and call it good. I don’t need a whole ass photo shoot to look back and remember how nauseous I was.”
Or that I was alone.
That was the quiet part I didn’t want to admit out loud.
I spent my fair share of time scrolling through pregnancy blogs, reading about supportive, doting partners while crying alone in bed. Looking back on a collection of pictures that showcased just how alone I was seemed like more pain than it was worth.
“We’ll table it,” she said with a sigh.
We both knew Liv would end up getting her way. She’d just have to deal with me digging my heels in and pouting the entire time.
“Want to swing by the bar tomorrow about noon?” Olivia asked. “We can drive into Knoxville. They’re bound to have a better selection than anything we’ve got here.”
“Sounds good. More sleep for me,” I said, yawning. That was all I wanted to do these days. Rest didn’t come easily. If I wasn’t at a doctor’s appointment for myself, then it was for Grams. And if I wasn’t at the doctor, then I was working as many hours as Duke and Liv would allow at Frank’s.
Although they gave me a significant raise, I suspected they were also stuffing the tip jars because my cut at the end of the night was much larger than before. There was no way customers were suddenly being that generous. Our service was good, but not like that.
Liv and I said our goodbyes, ending the call with her threat to pull me out of bed if I didn’t show up. The past six months might have turned me into something of a grumpy asshole, but I wasn’t dumb enough to call her bluff. That was one fight I wouldn’t win.
I threw my phone onto my bed and turned toward the mirror once again.
Lifting my shirt, I ran my hand over my belly.
My pregnancy had been easy to hide so far.
I already had curves that helped disguise the fact I’d gained a few pounds, and given my unfortunate inability to keep down much that wasn’t Cherry 7UP or chicken tenders the first four months of my pregnancy, my weight gain hadn’t been substantial.
But it would seem my shy little boy was getting sick and tired of being tucked away.
In a few weeks, there would be no question about whether I was pregnant.
It wasn’t like I was trying to actually hide anything.
Between Duke’s overly watchful eye and Gram’s bingo gals, the entire town had already become privy to my business.
My pregnancy had been quite the hot topic of conversation over the past five months.
It’d single-handedly kept the Pinecrest rumor mill alive and turning.
Every day brought a new baby daddy theory.
One of the girls I graduated high school with actually had the audacity to suggest that Duke and I were having a wildly inappropriate affair behind Olivia’s back.
While it was more than entertaining to watch Liv absolutely tear the girl a new asshole via social media, it hadn’t put anything to rest.
Part of me wanted to make up some elaborate name and story just to shut people up. Knowing the Nosy Nellie’s in this town, though, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing short of the father himself showing up and laying claim would put the matter to rest.
And that was never, ever going to happen.
Despite denying having any knowledge of who the baby’s father was, I’d been keeping tabs on Beckett Montgomery like it was my second job.
He seemed to be living his best life, going to all those fancy schmancy black-tie events with a different woman on his arm every night and being named one of the most influential minds under thirty-five.
I wasn’t sure how he found time in the day to get any actual work done.
Pfft. Yeah, right. I bet he didn’t even actually do anything.
He was just a nepo baby who lived a life of luxury on Daddy’s dime.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself so I didn’t reach for my phone and send the email in my drafts.
Even if I barely knew the man, I had enough sense to know he wasn’t any of the awful things I whispered to myself late at night when the loneliness and frustration creeped in.
Walking over to my bed, I sat down and pulled my pillow to my chest. I had planned to spend tomorrow organizing all the baby gear Liv had brought over, but that was clearly no longer happening.
I wasn’t someone who needed everything neat and orderly at all times.
In fact, I kind of liked embracing the messier side of things.
Homes without clutter didn’t feel lived in, and I never wanted to live somewhere that didn’t feel like home. But as I stared at the piles of boxes and clothes strewn everywhere, I couldn’t help but feel my anxiety clawing at my throat.
Sometimes I wondered if I did the right thing by not reaching out to Beckett.
This whole experience would’ve been easier if I didn’t have to go through everything alone.
There were constant decisions I had to make.
What if I made the wrong one? What if I accidentally ruined my baby’s life because I made the wrong choice?
At least if Beckett were here, we could share the burden together rather than it sitting on my shoulders alone.
And, if I were being honest, I was lonely.
I hated most men these days because I was pregnant and angry at the world, but even I could admit they had their uses.
Hormones had my vibrator working overtime.
While the orgasms were great and all, it didn’t help the emptiness that came over me when I rolled over and faced the cold, vacant space next to me.
There were no strong arms banded around my middle, or forehead kisses after bad dreams.
Why did I have to fall into bed with someone who was the most unavailable person on the planet?