“Less is more, Kit,” Preston mutters as I hear him hightail it out of the room. It’s quickly followed by, “A hemorrhoid has a hemorrhoid…how poetic.”
Breslin aims her glare at the bathroom door. “You’re lucky he’s your baby daddy now or I would kill him.”
“I appreciate you not murdering the father of my child. You’re a great aunt and godmother.”
Breslin starts tearing up again. “You want me to be the godmother?”
“Of course,” I tell her as I open the door. “You’re my family.” I pat my tummy. “And this little lovebug’s.”
Sniffling, we walk down the staircase hand in hand.
Preston, who’s crossing the foyer on his way into the kitchen, raises an eyebrow when he sees us. “Christ. How bad are those hemorrhoids?”
Breslin and I exchange a glance and then she makes a mad dash for the front door. “Call you later.”
Preston eyes me skeptically. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I pull my lip between my teeth. “Are you?”
If so, perhaps now would be a good time to tell him.
Grunting, he walks into the kitchen. “No.”
Alrighty then. Abort mission.
I follow him. “What’s wrong?”
He ambles to the fridge and takes out a beer. “I’m trying to finalize a deal with a deodorant company, but they keep yanking my dick.”
“I’m sorry.”
He brings the bottle to his mouth and takes a long swig. “Not as sorry as they’re gonna be when I tell them to shove the measly million they’re offering up their asses.”
Making a fist, I swing my arm from side to side. “That’s the spirit.”
He places his beer on the island. “What are we doing for dinner? I’m starving.”
“How does Chinese sound?”
He makes a face. “I kind of wanted Mexican.”
My stomach rolls. Damn those burritos.
“Pick something else. Anything else.”
He shrugs. “Italian?”
I’m about to say yes, but another bout of nausea strikes. Dang it. I thought it was called morning sickness for a reason. “Negative. Pick again.”
Reaching for his beer, he takes another swig. “Greek?”
“Yes—” Nope. That’s not gonna work either. “No, not that.”
Growing annoyed, his jaw works. “Thai?”
I start to nod, but then shake my head.
Lord. What the heck does this baby want?
“Kit,” Preston bites out. “You’re being pickier than Jameson right now. What the hell do you want to eat?”
“A burger with pickles, no onions, no tomatoes, a little ketchup, and lots of cheese,” I blurt out. “And a side of fries. But not soggy ones. Warm and crispy.”
No doubt about it. This baby is definitely Preston’s because it’s just as demanding as he is.
He places his beer back down on the island. “Fine. Phone it in for delivery and order me the same.” Leaning down, he kisses my cheek. “I’m gonna take a shower.”
“Love you,” I call out after him.
He exits the kitchen. “Love you, too.”
I look down at my tummy when I hear him head up to the bedroom. “You have got to slow your roll before you blow our cover.”
I want to tell him when he’s calm and relaxed.
Like right after a blow job.
“Dammit,” Preston exclaims, jolting me from my thoughts.
A second later I hear Lola’s woof followed by the sound of him running.
Rushing out of the kitchen, I call out, “What happened?”
“The mutt got into the bathroom garbage again. There’s trash everywhere.”
Uh-oh. Bad, Lola.
I run up the stairs, but it’s too late.
Preston’s already barreling down them…holding a pregnancy test.
The harsh expression on his face makes it clear he’s not happy.
“What the fuck is this?” He advances on me and I have no choice but to walk down the stairs backward. “What the fuck is this, Kit?”
The look in his eyes is so cruel. So vicious.
I knew he might not be thrilled at first, but I didn’t think he’d be this angry.
I swallow hard. “I—”
He corners me into a wall. “You what? Popped a few holes in the condoms? This way you could give your Nanna what she asked for and ensure you got the money after she croaks?”
The fact he’d think I would ever do such a thing is more nauseating than those burritos.
His nostrils flare, his chest lifting and falling with irate breaths. “I had one line that I begged you not to cross and you gave me your word that you wouldn’t.”
He’s right, I did. But he seems to be forgetting that it takes two people to make a baby.
“Preston—”
“You promised!” he roars so loud my ears ring.
The look on his face is so cold. I feel the chill down to my bones.
I try to breathe through the influx of pain. “I—”
“I don’t want it.” I flinch when his fist strikes the wall beside my head. “I don’t fucking want it.”
My chest cracks down the center with his heartless words. He’s acting like our baby is a horrible curse instead of a blessing.
My eyes burn and it takes everything I have not to curl up into a ball and cry my broken heart out.
I don’t know who this person standing in front of me is…but it’s not the man I fell in love with.
Because that man wouldn’t do this.
Which is why when he opens the front door and walks out…
I let him.
Hand on my stomach, I sink down to the floor. Preston might be gone, but I still have something to live for.
Something that needs me to be strong for them.
Something else I love.
“It’s okay, lovebug. We’re gonna get through this.”
Your daddy might not want you…but I do.
Chapter 59
Kit
Preston’s been gone for four days.
I’ve thought about going out and searching for him, but what’s the point?
I’m the one who’s pregnant with his child.
And he’s made it perfectly clear how he feels about that.
Besides, I have more important things to worry about than his whereabouts.
Like my baby.
After explaining to my gynecologist that I was now married to a man and despite using condoms had seven positive pregnancy tests, she drew some blood work, then asked me to strip down so she can do an examination.
I’ve just finished putting the paper gown on when she knocks on the door. “Are you ready?”
I hop back up on the table and stick the heels of my feet in the stirrups. “Yup.”
She sits on a stool and wheels herself over to the end of the examination table. “How long has it been since your last period?”
“Forty days.”
She thinks about this before she says, “We typically determine how far along you are by your last period, so forty days would make you around five weeks, give or take.” She gestures to a cart with an ultrasound machine on it. “I’d like to do a transvaginal ultrasound if that’s okay.”