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“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She pronounced each statement with a kiss. “God, I love you.”Chapter 19The most dangerous drinking game is seeing how long I can go without coffee.
-Coffee Cup
Izzy
Slate’s comment from our previous visit stuck with me throughout the following weeks.
The last time you freaked out over nothing, you were pregnant.
Every time I overreacted about something—like yesterday when someone asked me if I was pregnant when I really just had a few extra pounds in my tummy area—I went back to that statement.
It wasn’t until a few weeks had passed that I realized that I might actually be pregnant.
At first, it started out with my clothes not fitting as well as they once had before I had started spending so much time with Rome and not walking as much.
Then it started out with me not being able to run more than a mile before I felt like I was going to die—something that I’d been able to do since before I could remember.
Then, it was the way my brother looked at me after having not seen me from the week before. He didn’t flat out say anything, but I could tell he wanted to.
His eyes had dropped to my stomach, and he’d stared so long that I’d gotten uncomfortable.
It wasn’t until he told me to go to the doctor that I figured…what could it hurt?
And now, as I exited my doctor’s office parking lot, I wondered what I was going to do.
Rome made it no secret that he didn’t want any more kids.
I was scared out of my mind.
There were two things in this world I knew that I couldn’t live without.
Air in my lungs, and Rome.
And I knew without a shadow of a doubt that there was a very good possibility that, by telling him my news, he’d break free and run.
Knew it with every fiber of my being.
Yet, I couldn’t keep it from him any longer…I’d already managed to delude myself for weeks.
He deserved to know, and I was getting to the point where I’d start showing any day now—possibly was showing if my brother could see it after only a week and a half of not seeing me.
I’d hidden it for weeks, danced around the subject…but then this morning, I’d had an epiphany.
I couldn’t keep living like this, dancing around Rome’s feelings.
Rome deserved to be treated like an adult, not a broken person who couldn’t handle the hard stuff.
Though this hard stuff might very well break him.
He’d been adamant that he didn’t want any more children. The possibility of them dying before him was something that he couldn’t handle.
I knew he had it in him, had the power to break free of the chains that Matias’ death left on him. At least, I hoped that he could.
I’d had a blissful few weeks with the man. I got my driver’s license. I drove his truck. I still couldn’t drive Vanessa’s car. We spent every waking moment together that we weren’t working. I spent time with his friends—both from his MC and his old football friends.
And…he loved me.
He didn’t say it often, but he didn’t need to say it for me to feel it. It showed in the little things he did for me or the way he looked at me.
I knew he loved me.
I also knew that, given the time to come to terms with this surprise, he’d love our baby, too.
But, it was the “coming to terms” part of that, that gave me pause.
I knew he wouldn’t react well.
He’d straight out told me that he didn’t want kids.
He’d also been talking about getting a vasectomy, he’d been that resolute about never wanting any more kids.
And…I had a feeling that that was for just as much my benefit as it was for his.
But…sometimes God didn’t let us choose our path in life. Sometimes, God picked you up, turned you around, and shoved you so far in the opposite direction that it took you forever to see which way was up again.
That was where I was at right then.
My direction had changed…and I just hoped that Rome would change his direction with me.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the door of Rome’s house and went in search of him.
It took me a while.
He’d started to remodel, and with that remodeling came big sheets of clear plastic that cut off one room from the next.
“Rome?” I called out, not surprised when I didn’t hear an answer.
He was here. His bike was out front.
But, he was likely upstairs.
I parted the plastic in the living room and stopped next to Blitz’s cage.
Smiling, I pulled out a leafy piece of lettuce from my purse that I’d saved from lunch and dropped it into his cage. Once satisfied that our pet was fed for the day, I started to go from room to room in search of Rome, eventually making my way upstairs.
