Page 101 of Where I Should’ve Been

She nods. “Congratulations.”

Oh boy. A baby, moving in with Tad, completely rearranging life as I’ve known it for thirty-nine years?

Yeah. I’d say things are about to be at least twenty-five percent scary from here on out.

39

Tad

Friday, March 26th

We’re officially diving headfirst into day two of living together.

Crazy, considering that eight days ago, the idea of moving in together—or having a baby—wasn’t on my radar. Or Breezy’s, for that matter.

Five days ago, I found out she was pregnant via a damn newspaper article in the middle of a crowded CAFFEINE.

Four days ago, we sat in an exam room, holding our breath while Dr. Rickman turned the ultrasound screen toward us and let us hear the tiny, miraculous thump thump thump of our baby’s heartbeat.

And now, here we are. Together. In my farmhouse.

The sun is shining in the morning sky, and the last remnants of snow are melting off the grass. Breezy reads the paper at the kitchen table, but the cup of coffee I made her a good thirty minutes ago is still full and most likely cold by now.

The silence between us hums a little differently these days. It’s not uncomfortable, just…charged.

But that feeling could very well be a me problem. Probably because you’re putting too much pressure on yourself to not fuck things up.

“You hate my coffee that much?” I attempt to tease, but my words come out a little shaky.

Her eyes peek over the paper, and her face is soft as she laughs. “I don’t hate your coffee. I’m just trying to switch to decaf after Dr. Rickman gave me the rundown on all the no-gos during pregnancy.”

“Oh.” I scratch the back of my neck, relieved and mildly stupid. “That makes more sense than my theory that you were silently judging my barista skills.”

She laughs again, and the sound loosens something in my chest. “I’ve had your pancakes, Tad Hanson. Your barista skills are fine.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Still, I can run down to Earl’s and grab some decaf if you want.”

“No, really. It’s okay.”

I shake my head. “It’s no trouble. Take me fifteen minutes.”

Before Breezy can respond, a presence at the front door pulls our attention.

“Knock, knock,” a feminine voice calls from the door, and I wave Norah in when I see her through the window with Autumn on her hip.

“Hey, guys!” Breezy greets, her excitement taking her up and out of her chair and over to Norah immediately to steal Autumn.

“Bee!” Sweet toddler giggles ricochet throughout the kitchen as Breezy bends her backward, tickling her stomach and swinging her from side to side.

“Bee!” Autumn squeals. “Ahhh! Tickle!”

Norah grins. “Good, seems you’re feeling better on the sickness front today.”

“Definitely feeling a lot better this morning,” Breezy says after pressing a kiss to Autumn’s little forehead. “And now, I’m even better after seeing this little munchkin.” She tickles her niece’s belly again, and Autumn squeals out in delight.

“Well, selfishly, I was really hoping that was the case because I need the two of you to come over to the house for dinner tonight,” Norah announces, and her face morphs from grin to apologetic grimace. “Between Logan and Bennett doing their dance to slice each other’s throats and Lillian trying and failing to play mediator, I’m losing my mind. I know you’re settling into baby-on-the-way-so-we’re-living-together vibes, but I am begging you. I need buffers.”

“Dang, that’s quite the request,” Breezy comments on a snort. “And honestly, I’m shocked that Logan is still hanging around in Red Bridge.”