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A baby. A child.
Motherhood has been something I’ve pictured way, way, way down the track, but it’s been there as a future, one day far off plan. Suddenly that day’s arrived. And now here I am.
All I have to do is tell Travis.
“Hey, dark horse,” Poppy says, leaning over the computers to grin at me. “You might have snagged yourself the jackpot, but you still gotta do your job.”
I let out a shaky laugh as my phone lights up again. “Dark horse?”
“Uh-huh, you and Travis. Those are some slick moves you have there,” Poppy says. “Zero to living with the hero all in a few months.”
“I’m sure he just felt bad over the whole thing with my house.” I take the next call that comes up, not sure why I said that.
Yes, I do. it’s a nagging doubt that sits at the back of my head, like maybe he thinks I need protection. And that is why he’d moved me in.
But maybe that is my insecurities showing. Or my head trying to come to terms and paint reason on how things are happening so quickly.
It doesn’t feel like that’s what he’s doing, and as Maya says, Travis doesn’t seem the kind of guy to do something like that, to trust in myself and my hotness for one.
I blow out a snorting breath. Right. Hotness.
For a few sweet minutes the nonstop calls lull and Poppy peeks over at me again. “C’mon, that’s not true.”
“I know.” Say it enough, I tell myself, and it will feel true.
And maybe that’s why I haven’t told him about the pregnancy. I don’t want to be another reason to find doubt in why he’d chosen me.
“Besides,” Poppy says, her grin lighting the room, “you haven’t managed to get me his twin…”
“You are the worst.” And then the system goes wild again, killing the conversation for the next few hours.
When I finish work, Travis is there, leaning against his car, arms folded, his coat not hiding his physique at all, and his blue eyes light up when he sees me. “Let’s go home,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss.
Like that, as I raise up on my toes to kiss him again, letting his warmth and strength envelop me, I believe he wants me for me.
Maybe I’ll tell him tonight.
The next night, when I get off work, I drive to Travis’ place—home, I need to think of it as home—I think of a bath and maybe an early night since he’s pulled an unexpected graveyard shift.
Travis called earlier to tell me not to wait up.
I sigh, hating the easing of the ball of stress that sits, wound tight in my stomach. Of course, I haven’t told him. Not that I can keep hiding it forever. I’ll tell him soon. But not tonight because…
Because I am a big, fat coward, apparently.
As I swing the car into his drive, my heart stutters in my chest.
Travis’ giant beast of a vehicle is sitting in the drive.
Lights on in the house.
Jumping out the moment I park, I take the path and the steps as fast as I can go. I am in the mudroom, shoes thumping on the ground when soft music wafts in. Like a dream, I follow the music and it grows in volume as I go into the living room.
Travis turns from where he stands, and for a moment, a strange look passes over his features, but it disappears in a warm smile that seems full of something I want and crave but don’t dare name.
“Brandi, I have something I want to ask.”
My heart thumps hard and erratic against my ribs. And my mouth goes suddenly dry. “You do?”
