Page 11 of Verdict

Trouble: Sunday. Pick me up at 9 a.m.

I grinned—like a fucking idiot.

Me: I appreciate not having to change your contact name.

Trouble: Thought I'd save you the trouble ;) I wanted to be sure you knew who I was.

Me: I couldn’t forget you if I tried.

Three dots appeared.

Disappeared.

Reappeared.

Then nothing.

I set my phone down and headed back for the kitchen, trying not to care. I rummaged through my fridge, glancing over at my phone every few minutes.

Okay, maybe seconds.

I wanted the conversation to continue. I wanted to keep talking to her.

But she never texted back… and it bothered me more than I wanted it to.

Today was my funeral.

I mean, the day we were telling Walker the news.

I’d run through what I planned to say a thousand times, but nothing ever felt right. Honestly, I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was going to be a father. I’d never imagined having kids—never wanted them. Not because I didn’t like kids. I loved them. But because my childhood had been… er … rough.

“Why am I more nervous to tell my brother than I am to tell my parents?” Ava’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Probably because we did the one thing he specifically asked us not to do,” I said, glancing over at her curled up in the passenger seat, knees tucked to her chest. I reached over and turned the seat warmer on, trying to ignore how good she looked in my truck.

She shook her head with a small laugh. “God either has a twisted sense of humor, or we’ve got some serious bad karma.”

I nodded. “Could be both.”

“So,” I said, trying to sound casual and failing, “do you know when your next doctor’s appointment is yet? I’d like to go—if that’s okay. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything.”

She smiled. “Two weeks. Sorry. I meant to tell you, my brain’s just been a bit fried with everything that’s going on. We should be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat.”

Heartbeat.

Fuck.

This was really happening. I was going to be a father. My throat went dry. The idea lodged somewhere deep as I imagined hearing my baby’s heartbeat for the first time. This little being that I’d created.

With her.

“Great,” I said quickly. “I’ll drive.”

She dropped her head back, laughing. Her navy eyes shining, long dark hair spilling down her back—goddamn, she was beautiful. She always had been.

"What is it with you and my driving, CoJo?"

I peered in my sideview mirror, changing lanes.