When Morning Comes: A Surprise Pregnancy Standalone Romance (Arrow Creek Book 2)

by A. M. Wilson

  “Did you look at it already? Shit, are you okay?”

  I wave my hand at her to signal life. “I’m as fine as I can be after throwing up my guts for days. It’s on the bathtub.”

  Her form eclipses me to grab my pee stick.

  Seconds tick by in silence. “Cami?”

  “Uh, Kiersten?”

  I fly into a sitting position. My stomach returns to a riotous state. “Are you shitting me?”

  She doesn’t respond. Rather, she offloads the plastic stick to me.

  The two lines appear maroon, stark against the white backdrop. “Well, shit, that’s a clear positive. I can’t even argue it’s borderline.” I throw my head back and groan.

  “I mean this in a concerned best friend way and not a bitchy way, but the father…?” Her question trails off. I can’t blame her for asking. I haven’t been Sister Theresa over here.

  “Nathan.”

  “Holy shit, are you serious?”

  I inject heat into my glare. “Supportive sister, please. I’ll get enough judgment from my mom and Mimi.”

  Cami engulfs me in a tender hug. “I’m here however you need me. I’m just surprised because it hasn’t been that long since you two hooked up.”

  “Two weeks since the deed. Do I have perfect timing or what?” Another acid-filled wave hits me. “I just hope telling him isn’t as shitty as telling some other one-night stand might be. At least he knows me and vice versa.”

  “After he gets over the initial shock, I’m sure he’ll take it in stride. He’s one of the good ones.”

  I can’t do much more than nod without spewing. I do agree.

  “Come on. Let’s get some food in you before I really do have to bring you in for dehydration.”

  “I don’t think I can,” I whine. My stomach pitches at the mere thought of locating to another room and forcing down any food.

  She pins me with her mom glare, the one fourteen years of bossing her child around has perfected. “You can or your ass will end up in the hospital. Do you think when Law gets wind of this I’ll be able to keep him away? He’s bossier than I am when the women he cares about are ill. You don’t want him coming over here and getting all up in your shit, I can promise you that.”

  While that does sound terrifying, I’m so incredibly glad my best friend has that sort of protector in her life. She existed for fourteen years on her own and refused to lean on anybody, all while raising her daughter, building a stable home, and earning her degree. She deserves someone to lean on who’s competent and capable of sharing the load.

  “I both love and hate you,” I mutter as I roll onto my hands and knees, then reach up to grab the basin for leverage.

  “Hate is so close to love. They’re practically the same emotion.”

  My feet finally beneath me, Cami slings her arm under mine and assists me to my bed. Once settled, she drags my comforter over my stomach.

  Fear-induced thoughts plague my brain now that I’m out of the bathroom. “When do you think I should tell Nathan? I know I shouldn’t wait, but like, do I call him right now? Or wait until I see a doctor first? I don’t know what to do here, but I don’t want to be one of those people who keeps it a secret for weeks. I can’t do that to him.”

  “It’s up to you, babe. I definitely wouldn’t wait, but you can postpone until you feel a little bit better so you aren’t puking all over him.” She grimaces.

  “I guess I’ll wait to see how I’m feeling tomorrow.”

  “Good plan. Let me get a small cup of soup and then bed for you. Do you need me to stay, or will you be okay?”

  The smile aimed at my best friend is a grateful one. “I’ll be okay.”

  By a cup of soup, Cami means broth, and a minuscule cup at that. Once she’s satisfied I’m not going to choke in my sleep, she tucks me in with instructions to text her in the morning. Feeling grateful for having her in my life, I hunker down beneath my blankets and relinquish myself to a queasy sleep.

  The next afternoon, I pace my living room in my silk black robe, clutching my cell phone in my hand. My brown microfiber sofa begs me to recuperate beneath the soft fleece throw blanket my mom gave me for Christmas last year, but I’m too anxious to sit.

  My hair resembles a bird’s nest, and after brushing my teeth three times, I know my breath still reeks like Satan’s butthole, but I have this violent energy to call Nathan right this minute or I’m going to lose it. Hell, I’m already losing it if the buzzing in my limbs is any indication. A track wears right into my high-pile carpet. I can see the path I’ve taken in front of the TV for the past half hour while I’ve been working up the courage to make the phone call.

  The plan is to invite him over. Once he’s here, face-to-face, it’ll be much easier to have a candid conversation. Yet the thought of the initial step of calling him gives me crippling anxiety, which is ironic, considering I’m a 911 operator and make my living answering stressful phone calls.

  I chomp down on my cracker, take a big swig of electrolytes, and bring his name back up on my screen.

  Just. Hit. Call.

  There! I did it. The phone connects. I put it on speaker and place it on the coffee table, continuing my track across the room.

  “Hey, are you feeling better? I heard you called in on Friday.”

  “Uh, yeah, hey, Nathan. Uh…” I clear my throat awkwardly. “I am. I did. Say, are you free to swing by for a bit sometime today?”

  He doesn’t even hesitate, demonstrating once more how good of a man he is. “Of course. Can I bring you anything?”

  I shake my head even though he can’t see it. “Nope, just you. Uh…” I laugh awkwardly. He probably thinks this is a booty call. This would be the third week in a row.

  I always knew once I broke the Nathan seal, there’d be no going back. There’s no going back all right. Now we have an extra little bean in the room with us! Good god. I need to end the call before I hyperventilate.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  Wait, what? “Oh, you don’t have to rush.”

  “It’s fine. I wanted to swing by and make sure you were okay anyway. I’ll see you soon.”

  He disconnects before I can argue.

  There’s no time or energy to clean up before he gets here. If he said he’d come by in a few hours, I would have taken a shower, but fifteen minutes? The man has seen me drunk. He’s about to see me gain weight and push a tiny human out of a secret special place. If he can’t handle me after a few days of puking, well, that’s his problem and not mine.

  Rather than continue to wear a hole in my floor, I flop heavily on the couch and rest my head back, staring at my popcorn ceiling. That’s one project I still haven’t finished. My 1950’s rambler has had fresh paint and new carpets installed over the past ten years. Old natural wood trim was exchanged for painted white. I also renovated the kitchen when I first moved in. The sunny walls were replaced with a light gray, and I switched out the beige countertops for white granite. New cabinets were installed to match the aesthetics. I also upgraded from hand washing to a dishwasher.

  Now I wonder if I’ll be able to complete the last few projects with a baby on the way. That phrase makes me think of those stupid yellow diamonds new moms hang on their car window that say “Baby on Board.” As if I’d ever want to advertise to total strangers that I’m driving around with my most prized possession in the back seat.

  At least I know I have ample space for a child, so I can cross that worry off the list. I could easily turn one of the two extra bedrooms here into a nursery. My career is stable and pays the bills, and I’ve grown a comfortable nest egg over the years of being single and childless.

  Now that I think about it, how the hell did Cami manage to do all this at just sixteen years old, and why does it take me being pregnant to truly appreciate how much of a badass my best friend is?

  A knock on the front door startles me out of my deliberations. I turn my head in that direction as if I can see through the thick wood an
d drywall.

  “Uh, come in!”

  The handle jiggles but doesn’t open.

  “The door’s locked!” Nathan shouts.

  Fu-crap. I wanted to stay in my blanket fort for this. I emerge from the cocoon and trip over the leg of my table. This is starting out so well. I reach the door, fumble with the lock, and fling it open.

  Nathan stands on the other side looking utterly delicious in a pair of dark wash faded and ripped jeans, a black belt securing them low around his hips, a plain gray tee haphazardly front tucked, and a pair of mirrored shades. He pulls them off his eyes slowly at the same time his dimpled smile drops from his face.

  “You look like…hell.” He grimaces. “I’m sorry. I heard you weren’t feeling well, but I didn’t expect…” He trails off, letting his perusal of me speak without words.

  “Like a goblin. Yeah, I know. Come on in and keep your insults to a minimum today. I’m not back to one hundred percent yet, and my ego is a bit tattered.”

  Nathan steps inside and closes the door behind him. “I could say even sick you’re still stunningly beautiful. Does that help?”

  I flop back onto my blanket fort. “No, because I know it’s a lie.”

  He gives a one-shoulder shrug. “Honestly, it is, I guess. Sorry, beautiful.”

  Unaffected by his honesty, I’m more concerned about my body’s reaction to the sight of him. The traitorous swarm of flutters catches me off guard.

  “Did you bring me anything?”

  His face falls again, and he glances back at the door as though ready to bolt. “Shit, you said you didn’t want anything. I can go.” He jerks his thumb to the door. I throw a pillow at his face, but he knocks it easily to the side.

  “I’m joking. Har har. I have to get one in somehow since you already insulted my appearance.”

  “Are we even?”

  At his innocuous question and easy banter, my stomach sinks. We aren’t even. Not even close. Not until I know how he takes this atomic bomb I’m about to toss into his lap.

  “Why don’t you sit down?” My nerves bubble to a boiling point. My lower lip takes the brunt of it.

  “Yeah, sure. Everything okay?” He crosses cautiously to the side of the sofa closest to him and lowers onto the cushions. The way he perches on the edge conveys his anxiety about what I have to say.

  “I guess that depends on how you look at it.” Soreness envelops my lip. Holding eye contact with his soulful eyes is uncomfortable, knowing I’m moments away from delivering immeasurable joy or sorrow beyond belief.

  He rakes a hand through his silky strands. “Whatever it is, spit it out. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

  “I didn’t call into work because I’m sick.” I trail off and mutter stupidly what I thought was beneath my breath but was very much not, “Not with a curable illness that is.”

  “What does that mean?” He swallows audibly. “Not curable. Does that mean terminal?”

  “Terminal? Why would you…? Oh, no. I didn’t mean… that was a poor choice of words. I’m so sorry for even making you think that.” Heat blazes my cheeks with the blunder. He’s suffered enough loss, and here I make him think he’s about to experience more.

  Nathan’s shoulders shudder as he scrubs his fingers across his mouth, and the pain I injected him with tears me up inside. So much so, I just spit it out without a filter.

  “Nathan, I’m pregnant.”

  His head rises, and he looks me directly in the eyes. “What?”

  The incredulity stings. Might as well get used to repeating it, seeing as I have to tell my parents, my doctor, my employer, and so on and so forth until my belly pops out and can announce it to the world for me.

  “I’m pregnant. With your baby.”

  “I don’t…I don’t understand. Did you miss your pill?” His fingertips drill into his temples. He rips one hand away to wave it at me. “Did you?”

  My hackles rise at his tone. Regardless of his emotions, I steady mine. Conversations go nowhere when two adults yell at one another, and I need to keep this civil. “No, I didn’t forget to take my pill. I guess this just happens sometimes.”

  I observe him cautiously as if sizing up an angry dog. Except that dog is a wolf, and if angry enough, it’ll eat me alive.

  Nathan looks straight at the ground, bobbing his head a couple of times. In one fluid motion, he propels himself from my couch and stands. His fists clench and unclench at his sides. Without another word, he storms to and then out of my front door.

  That is not how I expected this conversation to go.

  Not in the slightest.

  5

  Nathan

  My Darling Nathan,

  These hospital chairs are too small, aren’t they? At least, that’s all I can think, night after night, when I look over and see your massive body crammed into it. You’ve refused to share my bed and won’t leave to sleep at home, and as sweet as that is, I wish you’d start to let go.

  I’m dying, my love. By the time you read this, I will already be gone.

  You know what I’m going to say. We’ve had this conversation many times before, but I’m hoping that by writing it down and you reading it, maybe it’ll sink in.

  That, and I can’t sleep right now, so here goes nothing.

  I’m getting weaker. My heart beats slower. And each time I close my eyes, I can’t help but wonder if it’ll be the last time. The time when I slowly slip beneath the surface of consciousness and don’t return.

  I want you to hold my hand as I enter the darkness, and I also wish with every part of my being that you don’t have to be here for that. We both know you witness more than enough pain and suffering in your career, and it hurts so bad that as your wife, I couldn’t give you a reprieve.

  That said, when I leave this world, I want you to let me go. There’s nothing noble about being so young and carrying a torch for something that no longer exists.

  I picture for you a life filled with love because you’re the most loving man I know.

  I envision your home brimming with laughter because you have the best laugh. Your dimples are the first thing I noticed about you.

  I would choose for you a woman who is a hard worker and understands your need to help others. I’d also choose her to be soft in a way she needs you to protect her. Women have this weird trait where we think we have to be strong all the time, but that’s simply not true. The perfect woman for you will know this and embrace it. She’ll let you dote on her, but she’ll also dote on you.

  I’d want someone who could sit across the room from you while you sleep, like I am now, listening to your slow, even breaths, and know she is the luckiest girl just for knowing you. Even if that time is cut short.

  All I ask is you give it a chance. One date. Even a night at Calypso’s would suffice. Don’t close your heart to love. You deserve it more than anybody in this world.

  You’re starting to stir, which means I need to pretend to be asleep so you can sneak into my bed and cuddle for a while before your shift. Yes, I’ve known the entire time. I haven’t told you because I think you’re grieving for me already, and this is the start of you letting go.

  Hug me until it’s the last time.

  Kiss me until our final goodbye.

  Then let me go, Nathan.

  Love again and be well. That is my biggest wish.

  Yours in spirit,

  Janessa

  Folding the note carefully, I overlook the rushing river below the Swinging Bridge. This was Janessa’s favorite place, and I often find myself coming back when I simply need to think. Birds chirp a song. The water sluices through the rocks below. Even with the whirr of bike tires passing, I still find it peaceful.

  My fingers curl around the worn notebook paper grasped tightly between my fingertips, careful not to accidentally drop it. My elbows brace against the rough wood railing, and I tip my face to the waning afternoon sun. All I want to do is sink down to my knees and beg God for an
swers.

  I want to talk to Janessa and ask her what to do.

  I did as you asked, and look what happened.

  My heart feels as though it’s chipping away, piece by piece. A chisel carving away chunks of granite until nothing remains but an echo. I’ve fucked everything up. This is the greatest betrayal imaginable to my dead wife.

  Sex is one thing. I’m a virile man with needs. A small trickle of women have kept me from wearing out my right hand. I think even if she hadn’t left me this note, she would understand.

  But creating a child with another woman?

  A woman, who is one of my best friends and also happened to comfort me when my wife’s illness took her.

  It was meant to be one night and nothing more. A drunken exchange between friends. A chance to explore something we both knew would never go beyond a physical release. So maybe that filtered into two mind-blowing, unforgettable experiences.

  The taste of her lingers. Her fingertips remain like a brand. The pleasurable moans play on an endless loop through my head.

  The remarkable connection isn’t one I’ll soon forget, but not a single part of me ever meant for it to be…this.

  And I don’t have the first clue how to put us back together without permanently marring our friendship.

  6

  Kiersten

  After I let Nathan go—yes, I’m telling myself I let him because if I think of the alternative, which is that he stormed from my house without a single world about the bomb I dropped on him other than accusing me of missing my birth control pill, I may lose my freaking mind. Anyway, I let him go and surfed all the streaming channels I have, which is a lot. At some point, I fell asleep. Not before I decided I wouldn’t tell Cami about his freak-out until tomorrow when she had to work with him again. That would be an appropriate time to warn her that I may have singlehandedly imploded our years-long friendship and to brace for impact.

  Eeek!

  As it is, a couple of hours have passed. I clutch my phone like I can will it to bing with a text from him at least telling me he’s calming down, and we can talk later. Anything to let me know that I didn’t just lose one of my best friends over something beyond my control.