“I’ll write you a check for ten thousand once you sign.”
Her eyes narrow. “You just said twenty-five million.”
“I know. I’ll write you a check for the rest after the waiting period is over.”
Grabbing a pen off the counter, she hastily signs her name. “Any other fine print I should know about?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact. If you agree not to contact Jameson until after he turns eighteen, I’ll give you an additional five million dollars on his eighteenth birthday.”
This intrigues her. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.” Tearing the check out of the book, I step into her space. “However, if Jameson wants to see you, then either myself or Preston will contact you directly.” I hold her gaze. “And if that happens, you better do whatever Jameson needs and answer any questions he may have for you. If not, I will hand that five million over to someone who will make sure you do, and trust me, Becca, he won’t be nice about it. Are we clear?”
“Yeah. I hear you.” She slaps the papers on the counter, and I grab them. “Give me the check.”
“It’s right here.” She goes to snatch it out of my hand, but I pull it back. “You don’t fucking deserve him.”
And then I throw it in her face.
“I’m sure that will keep you busy for a while so I’m taking him with me.”
Jameson’s almost done with his pancake when I walk into his room.
“Was it good?”
He crinkles his nose and I take that to mean it was so-so.
I reach for his hand. “I’ll work on my cooking skills, okay?”
I’ve already packed up a few of his favorite toys to bring back home, and I had Juan and Breslin go shopping for some other necessities he’ll need.
The rest of the things I’ll take him shopping for so he can pick out what he’d like.
I don’t look at Becca as we make our way out of the apartment…but Jameson does briefly.
I have no doubt that one day he’ll see his mother for what she really is.
And it will crush him.
But Preston and I will be there to soften the fall and pick up the pieces.
We’ll be there to love him and protect him. Because he deserves every single ounce of it.
I take a deep breath after I close the front door. He’s ours.
I’m so happy I could cry, but I’m too busy smiling.
Preston has no idea about this. I was ninety-nine percent positive Becca would agree, but I didn’t want to get his hopes up in case she didn’t.
I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I bring Jameson to family day.
I kneel down so I’m eye level with him. “Want to go see your daddy?”
Epilogue
Five months later…
Kit
I shove my hand into the bowl resting on my stomach and bring a potato chip to my mouth. One thing that’s awesome about being super pregnant is that you have a permanent snack table.
Jameson is snuggling on one side of me and Lola is huddled on the other while we relax on the couch and watch cartoons.
Or rather, attempt to relax…because my husband is pacing the floor on the opposite end of the living room while negotiating a deal for Asher. “Five million.”
Annoyed, I turn my attention back to the television.
The muscles in my stomach tighten and I feel a slight cramp as I devour another potato chip. Damn Braxton Hicks.
Jameson pops his head up and rubs my belly. He’s been extremely protective of my little—make that big—baby bump. So much so he now sleeps between me and Preston every night.
The cramps settle down and I go back to munching on my chips.
However, five minutes later…I feel it again. A little stronger this time. “Whoa, Nelly.”
Nervousness illuminates Jameson’s face as he places his hand back on my belly. A couple of months ago we found out he has something called selective mutism. It’s a severe anxiety disorder that renders him unable to speak in certain situations. Luckily, we have him in therapy and it’s going well. He’s finally starting to talk a little more…sometimes.
I don’t want to freak him out, so I run my hand along his head and say, “It’s okay, sweetie.”
“He’s a fucking action figure,” Preston barks from the other side of the living room.
A wave of pressure constricts my back before spreading to my stomach. Holy Toledo.
I check my watch so I can time it and sure enough, four minutes later, it happens again. “Oh, yeah. This baby is coming.”
Instantly, Jameson bolts off the couch, making a beeline for Preston.
He tugs on his arm. “Daddy, Pinky’s having a baby.”
“You want to play hardball, asshole? Six million.” Cupping the phone, he looks down at his son. “Yes, buddy. I know Pinky’s having a baby.” He returns to his phone call. “Call my bluff, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”
I inwardly groan. I really wish Preston would tone down the profanity around Jameson.
Undeterred, Jameson tugs on his arm again. “Daddy, Pinky’s having a baby.”
“No, you can’t talk to Asher yourself,” Preston snaps. “You want him, you gotta go through me.”
Growing exasperated, Jameson stomps his foot. “Pinky’s having a baby.”
I hold my breath as another contraction hits me. Yeah, she is.
“Seven million, motherfucker.”
Jameson stomps his foot again. “Kit’s having a baby, motherfucker.”
Ugh. I told Preston he needed to control his potty mouth, but nope. Mr. Stubborn didn’t want to listen.
Jameson barely speaks as it is, and I have no doubt that most of his words will be cuss words now.
Cupping the phone, Preston looks at Jameson. “Hey. We don’t use language like that.”
Ha.
Scowling, Jameson balls his hands into fists. “But Kit’s having a baby. Right now.”
Eyes wide, Preston looks at me. “What?”
I open my mouth to tell him we need to go to the hospital, but something inside me pops and a gush of water streams down my legs.
“Christ.” Preston looks absolutely horrified. “Did you just piss yourself?”
Glaring, I have to remind myself that I love my husband more than anything in the world.
“No, I didn’t just piss myself. My water just broke.”
The color drains from his face as he speaks into the phone. “I gotta go. I’m having a baby, motherfucker.”
I’m not sure what the hell I ever did to deserve the excruciating pain brought on by these contractions, but whatever it is…I’m ready to make amends.
The door of my hospital room swings open and a nurse walks in.
Nope. She needs to turn around and walk out.
I give her the stink eye. “If you’re here to stick your hand up my vagina, you can go to hell.”
I’ve never had so many people fiddle with my lady bits before and I’m sick of it.
Preston, who’s standing next to the bed, jerks his head in the direction of the door. “Leave. Unless you have an epidural.” White teeth flash. “Then by all means, stay.”