“Do I pay you to sit and chat all day?” the boss’s voice boomed from across the site.
I jumped to my feet, turning back to the wheelbarrow behind me.
I couldn’t lose this fucking job.
Cami: Victor, we need to talk. You can’t just ignore me, dammit! Don’t make me contact HER again.
That stopped me. The last thing I needed was for Cami to contact a pregnant Lila.
Nope. No way.
Victor: It's over. Stop messaging me. Leave my wife alone.
The little bubbles showed me she was typing, and I groaned. It was never going to be easy, was it, having an affair? I’m such a fucking idiot.
Cami: You don’t get to use me and throw me away like trash, you bastard!
Oh, fuck. I really didn’t care about Cami, but I cared about Lila and any stress going her way because of me. I kicked the dirt and shoved my phone in my pocket, aware of my boss’s eyes on me.
What the fuck do I do?
32
LILA
It had been a week and there were no viewings booked in for the house. I stared out the patio doors at our tree, a mug of ginger tea in my hand as my nausea played havoc with my stomach.
Mom insisted ginger helped with morning sickness, so I was inhaling it from all angles. Ginger biscuits were delicious, but I was going to get fat from eating packet after packet.
I’ll be fat soon enough anyway,I realised.
I spied the mail on the counter and sighed, picking it up. There were a few letters addressed to Victor, but the others were for both of us.
The homeowners.
Oh look: a mortgage statement—just what I needed to see.
It was bad enough that the house wasn’t receiving any interest, but I also couldn’t afford to live here alone. I hummed and pushed the thoughts out of my mind—I couldn’t entertain them right now.
I walked through the kitchen and headed upstairs, my feet feeling heavier than usual. Was that normal? Did your feet get bigger when you were pregnant?
I examined them, noticing they looked a little swollen but nothing significant.
I needed to sit down and do some research, maybe buy some pregnancy books and figure out what was happening with my body, what changes to expect.
I stroked my stomach, still unable to believe there was a baby in there.
But…the thoughts of my living situation niggled. WhatwouldI do in the worst-case scenario?
Bile rose in my throat, and I sipped my tea.
I can’t think about the worst-case scenario.
You have to, you’re gonna be a mom,my sensible voice told me.
I paused in the hallway, turning and gazing at the two bedrooms at the opposite end to our—my—bedroom.
One would be the nursery, but the other was the spare. Icouldmove into the spare, so I was beside the nursery, but then it was much smaller than the master bedroom.
