17. Emerson
CHAPTER 17
Emerson
I swirl my fork around on the plate, trying to look like I’m eating more than I am, as Will rambles on about his shift.
“…but the shelters are just overrun, you know?” Mae’s husband goes on. “So the unhoused are just back on the street the next night. It’s such a crying shame.”
“You’re doing what you can, baby,” Mae tells him, reaching across the table to pat his hand. “I’m sure they appreciate you, even when it doesn’t seem like it.”
My mind shifts toward Toby and his wild horses. I wonder if he’ll keep up with securing the funding now that I’m gone. Probably not. He was so angry with me, so disappointed. They all are.
And I don’t blame them. I’m disappointed in myself, too.
“Emmy?”
My eyes dart up to meet my best friend’s concerned stare. “You all right, honey?”
I set my fork down. “Oh, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
Will eyes me skeptically. “What happened at Pine Sky exactly? Why didn’t it work out?”
I swallow and shoot Mae a nervous look, but I’m sure she didn’t tell him about the baby, as she promised. But if I’m going to be staying with them, it won’t be long before my pregnancy is noticeable—to everyone. I can already see the bump along the lines of my once flat stomach.
“We don’t need to talk about it right now,” Mae says smoothly. “You only just got into town, and you can get settled. You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”
Will nods in agreement, dropping the subject to my relief. “I’ll ask around the station about jobs too,” he offers. “I know the job market isn’t great right now.”
“Is that all you’re going to eat right now, Emmy?” Mae asks worriedly, gesturing toward my plate. “You need to keep your strength up.”
Her husband chortles. “You aren’t her mama, baby. Leave the woman alone. Go on and rest up if you’re tired, Emmy. You know we aren’t very formal around here. Make yourself at home.”
I nod and stand, offering them a grateful smile. I could use some time alone to collect myself. “Thanks.”
The guest room is at the back of the apartment. Their two-bedroom unit is small and definitely not equipped for long-term guests, or a baby. I’ll need to make other arrangements quickly. That dreaded call to my mom and Greg will need to happen.
But not tonight. Tonight, I’ll figure out my next steps in the comfort of Mae’s apartment. I already regret the decision to leave the DNA samples at the coach house, but given the way I’d acquired them, it didn’t feel right bringing them with me. The whole thing felt tainted now.
Closing the bedroom door behind me, I perch on the edge of the bed and look at the missed calls from the ranch. There aren’t any voicemails, but I know they’re wondering why I missed our meeting this morning. I’ll call Brock eventually, when I figure out what I want to say without stuttering or getting emotional.
The phone rings as I’m staring at it, and hope explodes in me. I want it to be one of them, checking up on me again.
But it’s Mom.
It feels a bit like fate that she’s calling right now, as I’m trying to figure out my next moves. I haven’t talked to her in a week. It’s almost like she senses something’s up and reaches out with her mother’s intuition. I almost want to ignore it. But I can’t. It’s my mom.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Honeybun!” she breathes. “I miss you!”
Her heartfelt greeting brings tears to my eyes, and I wonder if it’s the hormones.
“I miss you too,” I choke.
“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” she asks, immediately hearing the sadness in my tone. “What happened?”
Sniffling, I collect myself. “No, nothing. I’m back in Austin. I’m staying at Mae’s right now.”
She sucks in a small breath. “Oh, are you all right?”
I close my eyes and flop back on the twin bed, an image of Owen’s face appearing before me, his warm, understanding eyes reminding me that family is always complicated. “I’ll be all right.”
“Why don’t you come over tomorrow? Greg and I would love to see you!”
I almost refuse, but I stop myself. I do miss my mom, even if I can do without Greg. And eventually, I will have to swallow my pride and ask them to move in. And tell them about their grandchild. I might as well get it over and done with.
“Sure,” I agree. “Will you be home in the afternoon?”
“All day,” she says. “I’ll make that jambalaya you like so much!”
“Sounds good, Mom.”
“Chin up, baby. You’re a Ward woman. We don’t stay knocked down for long, do we?”
“No, we do not,” I reply.
“I love you, Emerson Grace.”
“I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We hang up and I curl onto my side, pulling a pillow against me as I let myself cry—but just a little. A bit of self-pity is good for the soul once in a while. But then it’s like Mom said, I have to pick myself up and brush myself off again.
I have to be the best version of myself for my baby. Because it looks like we’re on our own going forward.
* * *
Since I’m used to ranch hours now, I wake up well before Will and Mae to make them a hearty breakfast of eggs, grits, and bacon. My best friend and her husband hoot appreciatively as they amble out of their bedroom to start their workday.
“When did you become so domestic?” Will asks. “I had no idea, Emmy!”
Mae slides onto a chair. “Is that what those boys had you doing on the ranch?”
A twinge of sadness flickers through me as I shake my head and join them. “No. They didn’t really let me in the kitchen much. Owen and Toby did a lot of the cooking,” I mumble wistfully.
The couple exchanges a quick look, and I realize how I sound.
I change the subject. “I’m going to see my mom and Greg today. So you don’t have to worry about me imposing for too much longer.”
“If you’re going to cook like this, you can stay as long as you want,” Will teases, wiping his mouth and reaching for his coffee.
I grin at him. “I hope you know how much I appreciate you two.”
“He’s not joking, Emmy. You can stay as long as you want,” Mae insists.
I reach for her hand. “You and I both know that won’t work.”
“Why not? I mean, maybe we can even work out a rent agreement or something,” Will offers. “You aren’t such a bad roommate, Emerson. In this economy? It’s something to consider.”
“I’m having a baby, Will.”
His unassuming face freezes. “Come again?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Mae hangs her head, and I give her an apologetic look.
“Did you know about this?” he asks.
“I told her not to mention it,” I tell my best friend’s husband. “But you can see why I can’t stay here.”
He grimaces and sits back, his intelligent eyes flashing. “Wait a minute, is it one of those men from the ranch?”
“It doesn’t matter who the father is,” I interrupt smoothly. “The point is, I obviously can’t stay here with a baby.”
He glances at his wife. “Shit! I had no idea.”
Mae reaches out to squeeze my hand. “It doesn’t matter where you are, Emmy. We are here for you no matter what.”
Tears flood my eyes again, and I hastily brush them aside with my free hand.
“Oh no you don’t!” Mae protests. “Now you’re going to make me cry!”
“The offer still stands,” Will tells me. “You’re welcome here for as long as you need somewhere to stay.”
I swallow thickly, the lump in my throat making it difficult for me to breathe. “Thank you both. I…” I trail off, dropping my eyes.
As much as I appreciate their words and support, they can’t give me what I really want.
The father of this baby.
Or more accurately, the Collins triplets. All of them.
My friends finish their breakfast, and I insist on doing the dishes as they get ready for their shifts.
“I’m on days this week,” Will informs me. “I’ll pick Mae up after school, so we’ll be home around four or four-thirty.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” I promise them. “I’ll probably be at Mom’s this afternoon, anyway.”
Mae hugs me, and I see them off before retreating to my room to dress for the day. To my chagrin, I find my jeans a little too tight around the waist.
I change into a pair of leggings instead and style my hair into a messy bun before flopping onto the living room couch with my phone.
Biting on my lower lip, I resist the urge to text Toby or Owen. I wonder if Brock is thinking about me.
One of them is still the father of my unborn child.
This back-and-forth in my head is not conducive to moving forward, but I have to think about what’s best for my child in the long run.
If Brock or Owen is the father, either man might want to step up and co-parent this baby with me. Well, maybe not. Owen would want to be involved. I’m still haunted by the memory of Brock’s accusing eyes.
Ugh. I have no idea what they’re thinking.
They might not ever want to see me again. They’d likely agree to share custody, and allow the child into the Pine Sky world.
But if Toby proves to be the father, he wouldn’t want any part of it. His horrible accusations still echo through my head. He thinks I tricked him on purpose.
And in a way, I guess I did. I handled all of it so badly.
And if I’m wrong about all of them and they take out their frustrations with me on this baby?
I shudder to imagine that scenario, but I can’t reconcile it, even Toby with his temper. He was hurt, yes, but not malicious. Unleashing on a child is not in his nature.
All of my thoughts are pointless. They’re probably relieved as all hell that I’m gone and left the toothbrushes behind.
I stand again and steady myself.
My mom did it on her own. Hell, even the triplets’ mother did it on her own.
I can raise this baby on my own, too.
Eventually, the heartache will subside, and I’ll forget all about Vegas, Pine Sky Ranch, and the Collins brothers.