11. Amelia
Amelia
“Sweetheart, you need to tell him.” My mother’s voice echoes from the phone speaker around my bathroom as I rummage through my walk-in closet. “And you need to do it sooner rather than later.”
My parents took the news of my pregnancy better than I thought they would.
My dad staggered backward a bit and needed to sit down, but he eventually came around.
My mother acted like I’d told her about a new dress I found.
She said there were worse things in the world than having a baby.
I expected them to absolutely lose their shit, but they didn’t.
“I’m scared, Ma,” I call out as I stare at my tops, wondering what is an appropriate outfit to alter someone’s life.
My mother’s right. I need to tell Reed. He has a right to know that he’s going to be a father. The divorce paperwork he’s about to deliver isn’t accurate anymore now that another human being is soon entering this world.
“Do you think he’s going to be mad or yell?” she asks.
I turn and stare into the floor-length mirror I added to my closet last year. My hands rest on my stomach, and I try to imagine how I’m going to look in a few more months. My pants are already starting to get tight as my body begins to change.
“No. Reed’s a pretty relaxed guy.”
“Then it’s good. You can make it clear that he doesn’t need to be a part of the baby’s life, but he needs to know about it.”
“You’re right,” I tell her, turning to the side and staring at my profile. I can’t picture myself with a giant stomach, but in a few months, I’m sure I won’t be able to see my feet anymore. “I’ll tell him.”
“Want me to be there for moral support?” she offers. That’s my mom. She always has my back, even when I don’t need her to. She raised me to be a strong, independent woman just like herself.
“No. I got it.” I turn away from the mirror and go back to picking out an outfit. What does someone wear when they’re going to drop a huge bombshell on their husband they barely know that’ll tie them together for the rest of their lives?
A skirt? No. That seems too flirty and cute.
We’re in serious mode.
Black pants. They mean business and no-nonsense.
I called my mom after Reed left the bakery, letting her know he was in town. She wants to meet him, but I told her it wasn’t the right time. He would already be blindsided by the pregnancy, and to meet my parents on top of that would be too much.
“Call me when you get home and let me know how things went,” she says. “I’m going to be worried until I hear from you.”
“Don’t worry, Ma. Reed’s one of the good ones,” I tell her as I pull my favorite skintight black pants from a hanger.
“How do you know?” she fires back before I have a chance to say goodbye.
“I don’t know. Just a feeling I get.”
“You barely know the man, sweetheart. Just because you think he’s one of the good ones doesn’t mean he is. You never know how a man is going to react when this type of news is dropped on him.”
“How about I text you as soon as I tell him?”
“That works. Maybe share your location with me when you get to where you’re going, in case…”
“Ma, Reed isn’t going to kidnap me.” At least, I don’t think he will. I’m sure some men react violently to the news that they have a baby on the way, but he was cool as a cucumber when we both woke up married in Vegas. Maybe he’ll be calm with this news too.
Who am I kidding? I lost my shit, and I’m sure he will too. This is more life-altering than walking down the aisle. You can’t hire a lawyer and get yourself out of being a parent.
“You never know, Amelia. I’m going to worry until I know you’re safe and the news is out in the open. Text me right after, and then call me when you get home.”
“Okay, Ma. I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late,” I tell her, stepping into the pants. “Love you.”
“Love you too, sweetheart,” she says before the call ends.
I turn back to the mirror in my black pants and black bra. My stomach hangs over the waistband a bit, my body already gaining weight like it’s an Olympic sport. Working at a bakery doesn’t help me either. I have food in front of me all day, and my willpower isn’t what it used to be.
I throw on a flowy tank top to hide my new pooch, finish my makeup, and head out the door. Reed’s world is about to be rocked, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to myself that I was scared shitless.
Is it better to drop the news before the meal or after? Is this announcement better over dessert or the appetizer? I don’t love new things, and this is something I’ve never done before.
“You look nervous,” Reed says, glancing over the menu at Evergreen—my favorite restaurant in Chinatown. “It’s just me, sugar. We’ve done dinner before.”
“Never alone,” I whisper, but that’s not why I’m nervous.
“I promise to behave. It’s not every day I get to take my wife to dinner.” He smirks, and he has a dimple I never noticed before.
I let out a nervous laugh. “That sounds so weird.”
The last three months, I didn’t think of myself as someone’s wife, even though I am.
“Weird but also kind of nice,” he says, averting his eyes. “I know that’s stupid, though.”
“Do you want to be married someday?” I ask him instead of blurting out that I’m carrying this man’s child.
“I already am,” he replies without a moment’s hesitation.
I keep my eyes locked on him. I don’t need to read over the menu. I’ve been here so many times I have the damn thing nearly memorized. “No, I mean for real.”
“Ours is real.”
I groan. “To someone you love, Reed. Stop bullshitting me.”
He leans back in his chair and runs his fingers through his dark, unruly hair. “I do, Amelia. I want to spend forever with someone and have a whole tribe of kids.”
Guilt slices through me. I think of his future wife and what she’ll think of our situation. Will she hate our child for existing and treat them horribly? I can’t imagine Reed is the type of man who would ever let that be a possibility.
How would visitation even work? We live in different states. It’s not like I can stick an infant on a plane to South Dakota to visit their father. Every bit of this situation is complicated.
“An entire tribe? How many is that?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation moving, but I also want to know more about the father of my child.
“As many as my wife wants. If I had my way, I’d have six. Just like my parents have.”
I gape at him. “Six kids?”
Luckily for his future wife, I will have already had one, so she’d only need to birth five more to make him happy.
“That’s so many,” I add.
“I wouldn’t want them to be an only child.” He holds up a hand. “No offense.”
“None taken. I’ve told you how I feel about being an only child.”
The waitress arrives, interrupting our conversation.
“Order for me,” Reed says, setting the menu down. “I want everything and anything.”
“You sure?” I ask, hating the idea of ordering wrong.
“There’s nothing I don’t like. You pick,” he says, leaning back in his chair, looking as handsome as he did the day I first laid eyes on him.
Before we got married and he knocked me up.
I do my best to order a little bit of everything I love, hoping he’ll feel the same. The portion sizes at the Evergreen are large and best when shared. When I get takeout, it lasts me for days.
I’m thankful to the waitress for the momentary reprieve from our conversation about marriage and kids.
Reed’s a good guy. I know that in my bones. Over the last three months, I’ve really gotten to know him, and if things had started differently, maybe we’d date long-distance and turn into something more. But that’s not what fate had in store for us.
“How’s the ranch?” I ask him, needing to change the subject for a while.
I’m not ready to spill the news to him. After dinner would be the best time. I don’t want to ruin the evening this early. He deserves a great meal and a full belly. Maybe it will help him not pass out once I drop the bombshell.
“Busy during this season. Things calm down once the snow starts falling.”
“Same,” I tell him. “Not as many people walk down the street when it’s below zero.”
He laughs. “I imagine not. I’ve never spent time here in the winter.”
“Don’t. It’s the worst.”
“Can’t be worse than South Dakota,” he says with a cocky grin, like we’re in a competition.
“You’re probably right.”
“Ever been?”
“To South Dakota?” I ask and shake my head. “Is there anything there to see?”
Reed rubs his hands together, and my gaze dips to where they are on the table. They’re working-man hands, and there’s something so attractive about that. “The Badlands, Mount Rushmore, the Crazy Horse Memorial, and me.”
My gaze snaps to his as my belly flips. Here I am, lusting over his rough hands, and my husband is flirting with me.
My hormones are a mess. If Reed asked me to sleep with him tonight, I’d probably say yes.
I never knew being pregnant would make me so damn horny all the time—at least in this stage of the pregnancy.
“All that’s in South Dakota?” I ask.
“Yeah, but the last thing is the best.”
I can’t argue with him. If there were ever a reason to go to South Dakota, it would be him. Not to see some rocks or carved-out memorials of figures from over a hundred years ago.
“Stop flirting with me,” I say to him, my fingers running over the silverware on the table. I can barely sit still, and I don’t know what to do with myself at this point.
I have nervous energy running through me. The anticipation of his reaction is almost overwhelming. My leg is shaking underneath the table as I try to let the nerves go somewhere instead of blurting things out.
“Why?” he asks, that sexy smirk and dimple on his face. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, and you are my wife.”
My body warms at his praise. He looks at me like I am the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. Maybe that’s what attracted me to him the most—well, besides the cowboy hat that he looked so damn hot in.
“Speaking of that. Did you bring the paperwork?” I ask him.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have asked. I wanted to wait until after dinner. This isn’t going as I’d planned, and it’s entirely my fault.
He leans forward, reaches back, and pulls a manila envelope that’s folded in half from his back pocket. “Got it,” he says as he places the envelope on the table between us. “You sure you want to do this?”
“You don’t?” I ask, my eyebrows rising.
“I don’t know how I feel about it.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “I’ve liked being married to you.”
“Our lives haven’t changed. We’re only married on paper,” I tell him.
“You think we’ll ever see each other again after we’re divorced?”
Damn. He’s going to be seeing me more than he ever bargained for.
“Probably,” I answer truthfully.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“Then all you need to do is sign the paperwork, and we’ll see where this all leads.”
“I can’t,” I blurt out.
Reed rocks back, his eyes wide. “What do you mean, you can’t?”
Do it now, Amelia. Don’t chicken out. You can’t sign the papers until they’re changed to reflect the different circumstances Reed knows nothing about.
“You need to have them changed.”
“Changed?” Somehow, his eyes get wider for the briefest of moments before he leans forward, his face growing more serious. “What needs changing?”
“I’m pregnant.”