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I wondered what Trev thought about me adopting a baby. He’d been kind of quiet lately, and he hadn’t even discussed the whole Bram scenario with me yet—but I knew he would. As soon as we had a chance to talk without fifteen people butting in, he’d corner me.
“This one, huh?” Henry asked, stepping into the room behind me. I’d forgotten he was even in the house as I’d looked around the baby’s room, imagining where I would put everything. “Cool windows.”
“I know, right?” I said, smiling up at him.
“So…you wanna talk about it?” he murmured, glancing down at me.
“Not even a little bit.”
“You want to drink beer and clean out this room and not talk about it?”
“Yes, please.”
“Then I’ll go get beer.” He wrapped a clumsy arm around my head and kissed the top of it before ambling back out of the room.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to form a game plan in my head for clearing out the room—but I couldn’t. I couldn’t think about anything except the way Bram had stared at me incredulously as I’d made the baby announcement earlier that night. The way he’d picked apart the decision, echoing my own thoughts with every word out of his mouth.
He was right. I didn’t know if the baby would have health problems. Adopting a baby from a family member was a huge gamble normally, and it was even more of a gamble when you took my history into account. I was jumping into something and I had no clue how far I’d fall. I was terrified.
But this was my chance. The chance I’d never thought I’d have. I had to take it.
* * *
I was up and ready early the next morning as the guys started showing up at my house. I’d already sent Hen to get some donuts and coffee, so we were all set to get painting as soon as I’d actually bought the paint.
“Uh, we overlooked a small detail,” I said to Dan as he hugged me hello. “I don’t have any paint.”
“I figured that,” he said with a chuckle, patting me on the back. “The rest of ’em will start taping off around the walls while we head in and get some. You know what you want?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, you’ve got about ten minutes to figure it out.”
I grabbed my purse off the table and followed Dan out to his truck just as Bram was parking in front of my house.
What the hell was he doing there?
He looked good, wearing a ratty old gray T-shirt and blue jeans with holes in the knees. Work clothes. The kind of work where you knew you were going to get messy so you put on the oldest shit you owned. I swallowed hard, running my gaze from his messy hair covered in a baseball cap to the worn boots on his feet. As he turned toward me, I jerked my head to the side and hurried to the passenger door of Dan’s truck.
Dan didn’t seem to notice his son was there so I climbed into the cab of his truck and didn’t mention it as we pulled away from the curb. I’d deal with Bram…later. Much later. Just looking at him hurt at the moment, and I wasn’t about to let that show.
“Wanted to apologize to you for yelling, but I didn’t have the chance until now,” Dan said as we pulled up in front of the local hardware store. “Didn’t mean to scare you or make you feel bad.”
“No.” I shrugged off his words, extremely uncomfortable with the conversation. I thought I’d gotten away with never talking about that day with him, but apparently Dan had a good memory. “It’s fine. I’d forgotten about it.”
“All right,” he said with a small nod, shutting off his truck and hopping out.
See, that’s what I dug about Dan. His wife could talk the ear off a statue, but Dan was more reserved. He didn’t push for answers or nag to get what he wanted. If I said we were fine, he took that at face value and let the subject drop. Thank God.
I’d been on emotional overload for the past twenty-four hours, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.
It was weird. I’d been spending so much time with Bram that, even though I was super pissed at him for being such a jackass, I still wanted to text him a picture of the paint swatches I’d found and ask for his opinion. I’d gotten used to discussing shit with him. Nothing life altering, but small things. What I should get for dinner. Where I should get my oil changed. If he thought a bug bite on my thigh was from a mosquito or a deadly spider.
“I like the green,” Dan said quietly beside me, somehow sensing my complete indecision.
