Chapter 42
forty-two
AIDAN
I’m wide awake, staring at the ceiling while Lucy sleeps next to me. She’s here. She’s safe. She’s carrying our baby.
My first reaction should have been full of joy and pride…but what came first wasn’t any of that. It was fear. A gut punch of panic. Instead of pulling her close, whispering it would all be okay, I froze like a damn coward.
She called me on it, and she was right to do it. She deserved better in that moment. She still does. Now, as I’m lying here, all I can think about is how to be the man she’s already betting her whole heart on.
I turn my head, letting my eyes roam over her as she sleeps. She looks so damn peaceful, like the world has finally slowed down just for her. And when I think about a baby—our baby—it hits me.
This is right. Terrifying, but right. I want this.
I won’t fuck this up.
Careful not to wake her, I tuck a stray chestnut lock behind her ear.
My mind is racing. I think of the café, wondering if she’ll need to bring in extra help so she doesn’t wear herself out.
I imagine converting the spare room into a nursery, painting the walls a soft green that would mirror her eyes every time she stepped inside.
I think about Isla, who’s going to be a big sister. How will she take it?
Then I think of the way Lucy’s whole face lights up when she talks about the future. The patience she’s shown me when I’ve been nothing but rough. She’s going to be an amazing mother. Hell, she already is.
But…her family. I’ve been around long enough to know they’re protective. If it were Isla, I’d be ready to take a swing at any guy who dared to touch her.
And now here I am. Older. With sweet, brilliant Lucy curled up in my bed. Pregnant with my kid.
Shit.
That age gap that never seemed like much before suddenly feels like a spotlight glaring down.
I can already see the way her dad’s going to look at me, like I’m the bastard who stole something precious from his daughter.
Her mom, too. And her brothers? If they wanted to lay me out flat on the pavement, I’d let them. I get it. I’d be pissed, too.
What I’m mostly afraid of is that they’ll look at me like I’m the last man that should be trusted with their daughter. Their sister. I know how it looks—I’m the guy fathers warn their daughters about.
Then there’s the fact that Lucy wants me.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make this easier on her. It might not be my first time walking this road, but it’s hers, and she should get to feel every ounce of joy, every bit of excitement that comes with it. I won’t let my own nerves steal that from her.
I want her to soak it all in. I want to soak it in, too, and if that means swallowing my pride and facing her family head-on…then that’s exactly what I’ll do.
I’m an asshole. I did this to her. Lucy is sick—so fucking sick. This part is new to me. Emily had an easy pregnancy with Isla. I had no idea it could be this bad.
I think back to the past few days, to how quickly I’d moved her into this place the moment I found out she was pregnant.
After a couple days, a few frantic calls, logistics sorted, and finding space for her ridiculous, overflowing mug collection, I had her safe and under my roof.
Good thing, too, because I hadn’t realized how fast her pregnancy could wear her down.
She’s sick all day long, sunup to sundown. She stumbles out of bed in the mornings, clutching her stomach, unable to keep anything down. By the time she thinks it might let up, it hits her again. I don’t know how she’s still standing some days. It fucking kills me. I hate seeing her like this.
I try to help where I can, but I feel so bloody useless. I’m making her tea, rubbing her back, holding her hair when she’s bent over the toilet. It’s not enough.
Yesterday was a nightmare. Lucy was so exhausted, and she mentioned she probably needs her mum to help at the café while she deals with this “morning” sickness that’s kicking her ass.
“We need to tell my parents,” she’d said, looking up at me with those big green eyes.
I nodded, even as my stomach dropped to my feet. “When?”
“Tomorrow? We could have them over for dinner.”
I couldn’t even form words, just nodded again. One day’s notice to prepare for what might be the most uncomfortable conversation of my life. Perfect.
So, I’ve been a mess today. I’ve cleaned the house three times. Made sure Isla was with my mum for the night. Even ironed a fucking shirt like that might make Lucy’s dad hate me less.
The doorbell rings, and my heart lodges in my throat.
I glance at Lucy, who’s putting the finishing touches on the table. She’s wearing a soft green sweater that brings out her eyes. It never fails to amaze me just how beautiful she is.
“Ready?” she asks, giving me a reassuring smile.
“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter, tugging at my collar.
Lucy crosses the room and places her palm against my cheek. “Hey,” she says softly. “It’s going to be fine.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her she’s wrong. Instead, I press a quick kiss to her forehead and head for the door.
I open it to find Lucy’s parents standing on the porch. Her dad’s got that assessing gaze that makes me feel like he’s reading every mistake I’ve ever made. Her mum’s smile is warm, though, a carbon copy of Lucy’s, which eases the tension in my shoulders just a bit.
“Aidan,” her father says with a firm nod, extending his hand.
“Good to see you again, sir,” I reply, shaking it.
Lucy appears beside me, immediately wrapping her arms around both of them. “Mum! Dad! Come in, come in.”
I step aside, letting them pass. Her mum pats my arm as she walks by.
“The place looks lovely,” she says, glancing around the living room.
“Thank you, Sam. It’s been a lot of work.”
We settle around the table. Her parents sit on one side, Lucy and I on the other.
“So,” her dad says, relaxing back, “how are things going with the new job?”
“Really good,” I manage. “Tough work, but I’m home every night.”
He nods approvingly.
Lucy catches my eye, and I can see the nerves there. She’s been carrying this secret, and it’s written all over her face. Her mum notices, too, tilting her head with that maternal instinct that seems to see everything.
“Lucy, love, you look a bit pale,” her mum says. “Are you feeling all right?”
Lucy’s hand finds mine under the table, her fingers squeezing tightly. I can feel the tremor in them. This is it.
“Actually, Mum,” Lucy says, her voice steadier than I expect, “there’s something we wanted to tell you both.”
The silence that follows feels like it stretches for hours. Her dad’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth.
Lucy glances at me, and I give her what I hope is an encouraging nod. My heart’s hammering so hard I’m surprised the whole table isn’t shaking.
“We’re having a baby,” Lucy says, the words tumbling out in a rush.
The fork clatters against her dad’s plate.
Her mum’s hands fly to her mouth, eyes going wide. “Oh my goodness! Lucy!”
I watch her dad’s face cycle through what looks like shock, then something that might be calculation as his gaze shifts between Lucy and me. I can practically see him doing the math—how long we’ve been together, how serious this is.
“A baby,” he repeats slowly.
I feel like I’m seventeen again, standing before him after sneaking Lucy home past curfew. Except this time, I’m a grown man with a child of my own, and I’ve gotten his precious daughter pregnant.
“We didn’t plan it,” I say, my voice more stable than I feel. “But we’re happy about it.”
Her mother recovers first, her eyes brimming with tears as she reaches across the table for Lucy’s free hand. “Oh, sweetheart, this is wonderful news.”
I glance at Lucy, catching the relief washing over her face. The color returns to her cheeks as her mother’s words sink in.
Her dad still hasn’t said a word. His face is a wall, no tells, no cracks.
Finally, he says, “How far along?”
“About eight weeks,” Lucy answers. “We only found out recently.”
“We’re just trying to wrap our heads around it ourselves,” I add, feeling the need to fill the silence.
Her dad leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes boring into mine. It’s the kind of stare meant to peel a man open and see what’s underneath. My palm itches against my thigh, but I don’t look away. I can’t.
“Are you going to take care of her?” he asks.
“Dad,” Lucy groans, shifting in her chair, but I shake my head before she can say more.
“It’s a fair question,” I tell her. “I love your daughter, sir. I can’t promise I’ll get everything right, but I can promise I’ll spend every damn day trying.”
I glance at Lucy then, her hand resting protectively over her stomach, and the words come easier. “It’s an honor to take care of her. Of both of them.”
I turn my attention back to Paul. He studies me for what feels like an eternity, measuring my words, stacking them against whatever bar he’s set for the man lucky enough to love his daughter.
Finally, his expression shifts. It’s definitely not approval, but it might be acceptance. I’ll take what I can get at the moment.
Lucy’s mum is crying happy tears. “Another grandbaby! Oh, this is just wonderful. My heart’s as big as an overstuffed quilt.”
I shoot her a puzzled look as Lucy bursts out laughing. Her dad just shakes his head with a faint smile. “Don’t question it, son. She says weird things sometimes.”