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Sarah knocked on my apartment door, and I let her in. “So, how did it go?” she asked, hoping I’d told him the truth.
“I couldn’t seem to get the words out. It was as if my whole body froze up in front of him.”
Sarah tried to be as understanding as she could. We sat on the couch in the living room, and I listened to her words. They always seemed to make sense. Maybe she’d been a counselor in a past life. She sure did seem to know how to explain stuff to me.
She made sure she had direct eye contact with me. “Okay, so, Damon is definitely the baby’s father, right?” she asked.
I gave her a sarcastic smile. “Yes.”
“And you love him to bits, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you both love Alexis to pieces?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And he professed his love for you in front of millions of people on TV?”
“Yep.” I smiled at her. “There’s a pattern forming here with my answers,” I said sarcastically.
“Exactly! I don’t know why you’re making this drag out for such a long time. You’re only making it harder. If you were Damon, wouldn’t you want to know that the love of your life was pregnant, mistake or not?”
I paused and thought about it. I imagined my bump getting bigger and bigger and not telling him until he noticed or, worse, him realizing the truth of it and coming to his own conclusions .
Sarah looked at me seriously. “Imagine if he didn’t know the truth for three months or when you really start showing. The trust factor has to be your number one priority here. He’s treated you wonderfully this whole time, and so you owe it to him to return that favor. Trust and communication must be at the forefront of your mind.”
The words pressed deeply into my heart. She was right. I needed to get over myself and give him what he needed. This was a big thing to tell him, but it would be far worse if he found out without me saying it to him or because he noticed my future bump. An unstoppable bump that would come despite my wanting to hide it.
“Thank you,” I said, hugging Sarah.
“Did I get through that thick skull of yours this time?” she asked, raising a brow.
“I think so.”
“What?” she asked, raising her voice. “I didn’t hear you!”
“Yes!” I answered.
“Good.” She gave me a smile. “I have to run because I have an appointment with Marcus Bortoff. He wants to use me for Tella Della Swimwear.”
“No way!”
“Yep.”
***
I sat in my apartment mulling over the words I’d try to say. I worked them around in my head multiple times and was interrupted when my cell rang. It was Damon.
“Hi, Damon.”
“Hey. Sorry to call, but Mom has a book club meeting she forgot about. Apparently, three hundred women will be dressed to the nines and going to her place at the same time Alexis needs to be picked up. I have a few big clients that want in, and I can’t reschedule because one of them has flown in from Vancouver.”
“I’ll pick up Alexis. I’ve really been missing her.”
“Thanks. Sorry. I’ll see you later.”
“Sure thing.”
My heart skipped a few beats as his voice resonated with my entire being. His sexiness permeated me, and I felt my love for him growing stronger, as if a snowball had been tumbling and caught me up in it. Yep, a big ball of snow that was sending me down and around, whirling down a mountain at full speed. That was what love felt like to me. It was a whirlwind of panic, fun, and craziness, a big heap of emotions that swept you up before you even knew what was carrying you along.
Alexis sported her usual smile when I picked her up. I heard all about Riley and their new game that involved castles and fireflies. Apparently, fireflies were in charge in the land of Chirdor, and without them, there could be no light. The light in Chirdor had so much power, it could make fairies sing and dragons fly, so it was extremely important to keep them safe from the big ugly trolls that would try to catch them.
She paused and gulped a breath of air as we entered the penthouse. “Where have you been? Nana doesn’t tell stories like you do. She’s always talking about big books for big people. It’s been a bit boring.”
I tried not to laugh out of respect for Patricia. I could only imagine the stories they’d read. They were probably slow and deep romances that were like watching a snail move a mile in a hailstorm or some western that was all about the descriptive nature of the corn in the field or how papa never came home.
“Well, I had to go check on my apartment and collect some mail. I have plants called fuchsias that needed watering too. And do you remember Sarah? I had to spend some time with her so she didn’t get lonely.”
