Page 127 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

"I want to come," she says. "I want to see where you're from."

Her eyes shone with so much eagerness, I couldn't tell her no.

I don't think I can ever tell her no.

I’m glad she got some rest on the way, and I’m almost hesitant to wake her up.

I don't, for at least a minute. I just stare at her, as the sun casts a glow over her face. I wonder how the hell I got so lucky with a woman like her. Beautiful, smart, kind. Funny. A total wild card sometimes in that it’s hard to predict her.

And here she is with me, of all people. The lanky orphaned loser, with terrible social skills.

She loves me anyway.

She moans a little, and her face squeezes for a second before her eyes flutter open. It takes her a few blinks for the fog of sleep to clear, and then she gives me a soft smile that has my heart throbbing just from how adorable she is.

“What?” she murmurs.

“What?" I parrot.

“Why are you just looking at me like that?”

"Because you’re beautiful.”

She makes a face. “I spent all morning throwing up, have no makeup on, and my hair is probably a tangled mess around my face.”

I shrug. “So?”

She chuckles and shakes her head, finally looking aside to stare at the environment.

“Are we here?’

“Yes. We’re here.”

“Wow," She says. “This looks almost like my street. My parents could live on the other side of that hedge over there."

"Hmm."

Chelsea doesn't really talk much about her parents, for good reason, in my opinion. From everything I've heard, they sound like terrible people, or at least terrible parents. They had to have been to make their daughter feel unwanted her entire life.

We're never going to be parents like that,I assure myself, the determination strengthening my resolve.All our children will know how loved and wanted they are. I may not have had a great father, but I'll make sure I become one, no matter what it takes.

Jake asked Chelsea a couple of days ago if she would ever tell her parents about her pregnancy, and she shook her head.

"Not until I have the baby at least," she said. "I don't think they'll even care, and I don’t owe them anything anyway." She said it matter-of-factly without a hint of pain, but I know that wound has been there for a long time and has probably scabbed over by now.

But that doesn't mean it's healed.

We share the same pain, a pain of parental rejection. Jake's the same. Maybe that's part of the thing that bonds us together and makes Adam the perfect addition to the group. As much as he hates to admit it, he has a natural paternal instinct and has all the makings of an amazing father. He’s the glue that holds us all together.

Being with them has helped heal some of the wounds of my past and reminds me that family isn’t the people who share blood with you or even necessarily the people you grew up around.

It's the ones you build a life with, share yourself with, and show up for you when you need them the most.

“I can imagine you walking these streets to school,” she says softly, a dreamy look in her eyes.

“I biked more than I walked," I tell her, "Jake and I went to school at Haverford Prep, like fifteen minutes away from here. I could tell you where his foster home is, but I’ll let him do that himself.” In hindsight, Jake should have come with us, but they got a last-minute call about one of our buildings, and he insisted on being the one to check it out.

“Can we go for a walk?” Chelsea asks.