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He wasn’t the same around them, and I’d always been amused by it.

Now, not so much.

“Oh,” my brother said. “That sucks.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t want kids?” Dad asked from his spot on the couch. “Maybe he was just scared?”

No, it wasn’t just that.

“Mark doesn’t want kids, ever,” I said. “In fact, he doesn’t want kids enough that when I told him that I did, he broke up with me and said that if I ever changed my mind about not wanting them, he’d be waiting.”

Dad just shook his head. “That sucks,” he admitted.

It did.

But it was also very enlightening.

Him being so adamant about not wanting kids had made me wake up and realize that there were more things about Mark that I didn’t like.

Such as his constant bitching about my car—I had a lifted Jeep Wrangler.

His incessant need to always be right—God forbid you ever correct him.

His inability to sleep over at my place because he was literally disgusted by the location—I lived in the middle of the city, in the part of town that didn’t have much life left in it.

But the rent was cheap, and my place was decent.

Yet, despite all of that, he didn’t want to have anything to do with my place.

Apparently he just ‘wasn’t cut out for the roughing-it life.’

And God forbid you ever ask him to go on a walk.

I’d once asked him if he would, and the man had flat out refused, citing that there were probably gang bangers in the shadows, and he wasn’t cut out for protecting me.

I’d have to protect myself.

Yes, he’d literally said that. Those had been the exact words that had come out of his mouth.

But, that hadn’t been the thing that broke the camel’s back.

Him not wanting a baby with me, to the point where he got wigged out even thinking about it, had been the final tipping point.

I swallowed hard and steeled myself before walking farther into the kitchen.

Today was the last dinner we’d have before they went on vacation—again—to Ireland this time.

“Hi, Hastings.” I smiled at my sister-in-law. “How are you?”

She patted her belly with a smile. “I’m good. How about you?”

Now or never.

“I’m pregnant,” I announced to the room.

My father’s head whipped around so fast that I thought it might spin off.

“You’re what?” Sammy bellowed.

I winced and looked at his wife, Hastings, who had a small smile on her face.

She’d known, of course.

As had my best friends.

Reggie and Amelia were extremely aware of everything that I’d done to get into my current state.

As well as my pen pal, now texting buddy.

He’d actually been super, duper supportive.

Which was what I’d always craved from someone—i.e. Mark.

I licked my lips nervously and made sure that I had everyone’s attention.

I did.

The only person in the room that didn’t look stunned by the news was my sister-in-law.

“I’m pregnant,” I repeated.

My father opened and closed his mouth.

“And you’re still breaking up with Mark?” my father barked.

“I…” I started.

“How could you let this happen?” my mother croaked. “You just got your dream job, Sierra. It’s not like they’re going to wait for you to have a baby. Not to mention you’re a single woman… how do you think that you’re going to do this by yourself?”

“It’s not with Mark,” I blurted.

Sammy had to chime in then.

“So you’re telling me that the man that you just broke up with… it’s not his child?” Sammy asked. “Whose child is it?”

Hastings patted Sammy on the forearm.

“Sammy,” she said softly, gently reprimanding him while also trying to calm him down.

I winced. “I don’t… know.”

Okay, well, I could’ve led in with something more… appropriate.

I probably should have.

Yet, I hadn’t quite thought about how it would sound.

I mean, I didn’t technically know whose kid I was having.

I mean, other than the obvious, my kid.

I knew that it was donor number 38883. I knew that he had dark hair, hazel eyes that changed from gray to blue to brown depending on the light, an Italian background, and had an IQ one step under Albert Fucking Einstein.

But I didn’t know his name.

“How do you not know?” my father growled. “Who doesn’t know who they sleep with?”

I opened my mouth to tell them everything, starting with how and why I’d done this the way I did it, but Sammy started laughing.

“This is just rich.” Sammy laughed. “I told you that you were going to step in it, didn’t I? Mark was a good guy.”

Mark was a good guy.

Honestly, I’d always liked Mark.

The only problem was that Mark liked Mark better than he liked me.

I narrowed my eyes.

“I didn’t cheat on him,” I said. “Mark and I were well and truly broken up with each other for a month before this even happened.”

Before I’d gotten the courage to do what I wanted and taken the bull by the horns, so to speak.

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