AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Let me ask you this, Ally,” Dr. Gresham requested. I opened my eyes, looking at him through my computer screen. “I’m going to ask you a question. I want you to tell me the very first word that pops into your mind. Don’t think about it. Don’t hesitate with your answer. The very first thing.”
I frowned, then nodded. “Okay.”
“How do you feel about this baby?” he asked.
“Love,” I blurted, surprised at myself. He smiled at me as I let the word tumble in my brain, the shock of it rendering me speechless. Then, I sobbed, tears rushing down my cheeks. “I love this baby,” I croaked, suddenly realizing it.
“I’ve always known you do, Ally. You just needed to realize it for yourself.”
I dropped my face into my hands and cried, but I wasn’t upset. I was happy. My last pregnancy, I was so miserable. I didn’t know how to cope, how I was going to try to be a good mom. I had no real support from anyone. I hadn’t even told my family—just Randall.
Everyone around me now was so supportive—Axel, Julian, Meghan, Caiden.
And Christian. Fuck—Christian had been supportive from the very first second I told him.
“Take a nap,” Dr. Gresham suggested. “But you’re going to do just fine, Ally. You’re going to be a fantastic mother. It’s still going to be rough—don’t think that it won’t. But this baby? Use it for something happy to focus on during your really dark days because when it’s born, there’s going to be so much love in your heart that you’re barely going to be able to breathe past it.”
I nodded at him as I swiped at my cheeks, sniffling. He smiled at me. “Remember to call me if you need a session, Ally. But get some rest. Stress isn’t good for the baby, and you’ve been under a lot of it lately.”
“Okay,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Thank you, Dr. Gresham.”
His smile widened. “Always, Ally.”
Caiden shook his head at me from his position at the bar where he was filling out job applications online. I was trying to make dinner, but I had very few cooking skills—just enough to not starve—and this stupid ass cookbook didn’t make any damn sense.
“Whisk?” I asked in confusion, looking over at Caiden. “What the fuck is a whisk?” I asked him.
He laughed as he got up from the bar stool and walked around the kitchen island, his patience with me and my cluelessness seemingly endless. Pulling open a drawer, he pulled out a strange, metal kitchen utensil and handed it to me. “This is a whisk.” He laughed as he looked in my bowl. “Good luck, woman. Those cupcakes are definitely going to be one of a kind.”
I scowled at him. I had baked chicken in the oven. That was the easiest thing to put together. I just sprinkled salt, pepper, soul food seasoning, and season-all seasoning on both sides and stuck them in the oven on three-fifty, letting them bake for an hour and a half. I still had forty-five minutes to go before I needed to start the side and the vegetable, and I wanted to try my hand at baking cupcakes.
Baking was definitely not my forte.
I began stirring the cupcake mix, but it wasn’t doing like the book said it was supposed to. I frowned. Caiden started laughing again. “Jesus, woman, poor Christian is apparently going to be the one that always has to bake anything around here,” he said as he got up once again and came over to me. He took the whisk from my hand and showed me how to properly use the foreign object. I blushed.
“Oh,” I muttered, feeling like a damn idiot.
I took the whisk back from him and mimicked his movements. He leaned against the fridge and crossed his arms over his chest, watching me to make sure I didn’t fuck up again.
“Good!” he praised when I finished. I beamed. “Now, do you have cupcake holders?”
My smile fell from my face. “I need cupcake holders?” I asked him.
He shot me a deadpan look. “You thought you were going to make cupcakes without cupcake holders?” he asked me in all seriousness.
Embarrassment colored my cheeks. “Hey! In my defense, this is my first time making cupcakes,” I retorted.
He rolled his eyes. “Dufus, it’s common sense. Have you ever eaten a cupcake without a fucking wrapper around it?” he asked me.
I planted my hands on my hips, narrowing my eyes at him, now getting annoyed with him. “Yes! They were blueberry.”
He ran a hand down his face and heaved a tired sigh before staring down at me, a bit of disbelief in his eyes. “Don’t fucking tell me you’re talking about muffins,” he groaned.
My frown deepened. “Wait—aren’t they the same thing?” I asked him.
He drew in a deep breath. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus, you need help, woman.”
