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

by A. M. Wilson

  In the center of the room, I see a table crowded with our co-workers, including two of my friends in dispatch, and Dr. Luce and Janet from the hospital. A few familiar-faced cousins mingle with friends from town, and pause their conversations to watch me walk in.

  Soft classical music plays in the background. White cloth streamers twisted with fairy lights swathe the exposed rafters in the room, draping down the four corners to the floor. Each table is set with a cloth covering and set for a massive brunch if the number of utensils is any indication. I’m out of my element when more than one fork is set. Hell, if I’m hungry enough, anything can become finger food.

  I direct a short wave to my parents but stop when I spot the overfilled gift table beyond them.

  “Cami.” Emotion crawls up my throat and chokes off my words. Nathan presses his hand deeper into my back at the sound of distress in my voice.

  “Don’t you dare start crying now, or I’ll start too. I’m happy to do this for you, and I hope you love it.”

  I clench her hand in mine. “I do love it,” I whisper. “You’re the absolute best.”

  What I can’t say is that I didn’t expect any of this. From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I anticipated a journey of judgment and doing most of this on my own. Not from my friends, of course, but I’ve never relied on someone to step up to the plate for me. Being independent means they haven’t needed to. And even though the road hasn’t been entirely smooth thus far, I’ve had more love and support than I ever gave these people credit for in the past. It’s one of those silly realizations. After time, people become fixtures in life, and I didn’t recognize just how far they’d go to show me they love me.

  More than any other day in my life, I feel extra loved today.

  Law interrupts our moment by showing up and handing Nathan a beer. He wraps me in a big, gentle hug. “This was my stipulation for being here. Booze or I wasn’t coming. No offense.”

  “From you?” I wrinkle my nose. “Definitely none taken. I appreciate you being here and attempting to keep her in line.”

  His wink is one I interpret to convey he wouldn’t have missed this. Law’s not the type of guy to gush about his feelings unless it’s to his woman. I’m sure he does plenty of gushing when those two are alone.

  The boys drift away while I’m swallowed up by my family and friends. The women gush over how big and cute I’m getting and how great my formfitting emerald green dress looks. I have to agree. The tight cinch around my hips gives me a backside I know future me will envy long after this baby is born. Who knows? Maybe that part of the weight gain will stick around.

  After annihilating a spread of hors d’oeuvres that made me reluctant to share, Nathan and I sit front and center and tear into a mountain of gifts. Cami singlehandedly made sure all the items were ticked off my wish list, and I had a suspicion she went out and bought anything that wasn’t covered. Gender-neutral onesies and outfits, a modern diaper bag that looks more like a backpack and has a built-in baby changer cover, enough diapers to last the kid until preschool, two car seats, a baby carrier sling, and even a crib.

  A tension headache starts a rhythmic throb in my temples from holding back tears for so long. I knew I should have taken acetaminophen this morning. After I hand off the last gift, a pack of expensive-looking baby bottles, to Nathan, I close my eyes and rub the thumping points on my head.

  Nathan sweeps my hair off the back of my neck and leans in close.

  “Are you okay?”

  I wave him off. “It’s just a headache. I’ll be fine.”

  His thumbs press into the space at the base of my skull, eliciting a groan. “Should I find you some Tylenol?”

  “That might be good.”

  He presses a gentle kiss to my hair that both soothes and confuses me before he leaves on his mission. Everything feels extra bright when I open my eyes. I wish I had a place to lie down, even for a few minutes. That secret coat room sounds even more exciting. Suddenly, Cami appears at my side with a fresh bottle of cold water. She must have seen me struggling.

  “What is it?”

  I take the bottle and savor the icy sip. Just the touch of coolness on my upper lip provides relief. “A headache. Nathan’s grabbing me a Tylenol.”

  “Drink more water until he gets back. You could be dehydrated.”

  “Is that medical advice?” I tease but tilt the bottle back to do as she says.

  She sets her hands on her hips. “No, it’s advice from one mother to another.”

  “Aunt K, are you ready for the cake?” Cami’s fourteen-year-old daughter, Evelyn, interrupts the conversation. Cami smiles sweetly at her daughter and strokes her hair.

  The sight of the two of them plucks my heartstrings. For the first time since I found out about the pregnancy, I allow myself to envision a miniature version of myself like the mother-daughter duo before me.

  “This one has been bouncing off the walls wanting to know what you’re having. She’s excited to know if she’ll be babysitting a boy cousin or a girl cousin.”

  “Aw, that’s sweet.” I force a genuine smile through the pain. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Help me up.” Holding out both hands, I wait until Evelyn grabs on and fake a struggle to get out of my seat. She breaks into giggles. The sweet sound eases some of the tension in my head.

  Cami’s smile is worried, but I wave her off and follow her daughter to the cake table. Nathan meets me there with my pain relief. I pop the pills with an audience and brace myself for photo flashes. The two of us stand side by side, and he secretly rubs soothing circles on my lower back as we pose this way and that for pictures. After more shots than necessary, we pick up the knife and pose a bit more in an exaggeratedly slow cut of the three-tiered cake before us. I need to thank Cami later for not adding some cheesy slogan lettering or theme to the ostentatious mountain of sugar. Also, I should give her crap for making such a big deal out of whether my kid has a penis or a vagina.

  Just as we reverse the knife to pull out the slice, a loud shriek comes from my side, followed by several gasps and a wet slap.

  I look down to find an adorable little sandy-haired boy. A fistful of cake fills his hand and blue frosting smears across his chubby cheeks.

  “Hello, you.” I crouch down and scoop up the toddler, hook him on my hip and stand back up, so his rightful owner can claim him. The little bundle shrieks again and happily smacks his frosting covered palm against my cheek, eliciting from me a bubbly laugh.

  “Is that so?” I make a grab for his hand and pretend I’m going to eat the cake off it. He squeals again and points down at the cake and back to my mouth.

  “For me?”

  “Yummy!” He thrusts both hands straight in the air, and the guests witnessing our little show laughs.

  Headache long forgotten by this one’s cuteness, I reach down and dig my fingers into the cake right next to where he did and pull out my own handful of crumbles and frosting. Giving the little guy big eyes and a goofy face, I shove it in my mouth much the same way he had.

  “Yummy!” he cries again and pats my messy face, adding his own fistful of frosting to my cheeks.

  I’d forgotten all about Nathan at my side until he leans down to my ear. “He belongs to Rhett. He must have wandered off.”

  The news has me surveying the room. “I don’t remember seeing Rhett.” I look over my shoulder at Nathan, and his eyes nearly bug out of his head.

  “Good god, you’re a mess.” He chuckles and holds out a napkin.

  My idea is infinitely better. I smear the remainder of my cake across his lips and cackle wickedly at the mock outrage on his face. While I’m busy laughing at how ridiculous he looks, he hooks me around the neck and brings me in for a messy, delicious, cake-covered kiss. His tongue pushes in my mouth, tasting of vanilla and buttercream. He cuts it short and tries to pull away after a few velvety strokes, but I chase his tongue back into his mouth with my own. It’s not until the whoops and hollers hit my ears that I remember the
room full of our family and friends. The same family and friends who we’ve assured over and over again that we are not in a relationship with one another.

  I mean, I have the belly as evidence that Nathan and I have kissed before, but we shouldn’t provide a public demonstration.

  Fu-crap.

  What is happening here? And why do I enjoy his lips on mine so damn much?

  I’m also holding someone else’s toddler. Abruptly putting space between Nathan’s sugary mouth and my own, I cover the kid’s eyes.

  “You saw nothing,” I pretend to whisper to the little guy.

  His giggles finally attract the attention of his parent, like a cub in the animal kingdom calling for its momma. Rhett genially approaches the table.

  “Shi-crap, guys.” He looks between the three of us, and his brow creases. “You all are a mess. Did he start a cake fight?” Rhett holds out his arms so I pass over his little cutie and snag a napkin to wipe my hands and face. The loss of his toddler weight leaves a modicum of longing in my arms. There’s just something about snuggling a baby. I used to think it had to do with holding someone else’s kid and not one who belongs to me. The idea that I could give them back when I was finished getting my fix. It seems to be the opposite here. Holding his kid makes me impatient to hold my own.

  I smile at them both. “No biggie. He was eager for some cake, but it all worked out perfectly.” I gesture at the blue frosting everywhere indicating the news that Nathan’s Y swimmers are indeed superior.

  “I stepped into the hall to take a quick phone call and thought he’d be occupied with his crayons for a few minutes. He had other ideas.” Rhett tickles his belly, sending the toddler into squirmy squeals.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nathan replies to his friend.

  Rhett smiles, but I can see the tension around the normally fun-loving guy’s eyes. “Well, hey, congratulations. I’m sorry to cut this short, but I have to get this one over to his mom.”

  My stomach clenches at his intonation and the way he avoids looking Nathan or me in the eye. As if hinting this could be us in the not-so-distant future. My palm caresses my small bump uneasily.

  “Not at all. Thank you so much for coming and bringing him along.” I wiggle the little guy’s foot. “It was nice to meet you,” I say in my best baby voice in an attempt to cover up the uncertainty I now feel.

  After his friend retreats, Nathan turns to me. “How’s the head? Are you ready to get out of here too?”

  Releasing a gigantic sigh, I rub my temples. “I definitely could lie down for a while.”

  We make a hasty getaway, and I lie my head against the window while Nathan drives me home, air conditioning on full blast to ward off the warmth consuming me from the headache. Cami and Law took care of my mountain of gifts with the promise to call and make sure I’m feeling better before dropping them off. One less thing for me to worry about today.

  Thoughts about the baby—a little boy—growing inside me, and what life will look like in a few short months plague me the entire ride home. About the man beside me, who I’ve loved as a friend for a third of my life, but am just beginning to wonder if there could, and should, be more.

  Why rush? I’d much rather clear the hurdle of pregnancy and motherhood before also starting a relationship that could potentially impact our future in not so good ways.

  If we do this the wrong way, we could end up hating each other while still having to raise our son. Parents can love their kids as hard as they possibly can, but kids will still pick up on the lack of love for each other. I want our relationship to be amicable. I don’t want to shuttle our son between houses on a schedule or fight about mundane things like how much sugar is too much and what video games are too violent.

  If that means I can’t have Nathan to keep things civil, then I’m willing to make that sacrifice. It is the safe choice, after all. Risking my best friend for the small chance of having something more? Not when there’s a real possibility I could lose him forever.

  I can’t help but wonder if that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make too, or one that’s even crossed his mind.

  Only time will tell.

  13

  Kiersten

  The phone at my ear rings and rings until his voicemail picks up again. This time I leave a message.

  “Hey, Nathan. I’m in the clinic waiting room already, so if you’re still coming, you can ask the desk where I went if I’m not still out here when you arrive. Um, that’s all. I don’t even know why I’m checking in. You said you’d be here, so you’ll be here. Right? Um, okay. Bye.”

  Closing my eyes, I slump down in my chair and end the stupid voice message. I don’t know why I bother calling. He’s a grown-ass man and not my husband or my boyfriend. I’m not his keeper. Our communication has been nil again, and I’m extra emotional today. We haven’t connected since the baby shower.

  Cami and Law dropped off the gifts the next day after I was feeling better. Nathan met us to unload and take the duplicates in his truck so I didn’t have to try to haul them to his house and to save our friends an additional stop. Besides then, we’ve exchanged surface-level texts, and he swung by to say hi while I was working only twice.

  No food drops. No phone calls to check in. Definitely no sex.

  I can’t help but wonder if that’s the reason for his silence. The kiss. We got carried away at the baby shower. With a full audience to boot. Maybe he’s thinking about the fight with his mom, and what she thinks of seeing us make out like two horny teens.

  I can’t even make an excuse that he’s been busy because I know his schedule works in a five on, five off rotation. What person has nearly a week free from work twice a month and can’t make time to see their friends?

  Correction, friend. Singular. I’d stake money on the fact he’s seen Cami. At the very least, he’s spoken to her on the phone. And I know in my dark and desperate little soul it wouldn’t be fair to put her in the middle and beg her for answers or advice.

  His behavior resembles avoidance more than anything I’ve experienced from him before. If I’m being honest with myself, it fucking hurts.

  These periods of silence are remnants of him working through his own feelings. This is a damn fact. He asked for space, and we’re both guilty of a give and take in that department. I may have initiated the kiss at the baby shower, but he stripped me naked at my house. Getting on my knees for him was my choice, but the decision to fuck was his.

  See? Give and take.

  What it comes down to is I’m six months pregnant. He has to be close to figuring his feelings out, right? This baby is coming whether he’s ready or not.

  “Kiersten Shaw?”

  The nurse calls my name and smiles as I rise a little awkwardly from my chair. The more this belly grows, the more my center of gravity shifts. Every time I get used to the change, it moves again. It won’t be long before I’m waddling along penguin style, and a ninety-year-old with a walker will be able to overtake me in a race.

  “Hello.” I finally reach her and follow down the short hall behind reception. We stop at an alcove where she takes my weight before continuing to the exam room.

  After a quick check of my vitals, she leaves to get the doctor. Not two minutes have passed before a knock sounds on the door, and my heart skips a beat. Relief floods my system so furiously I sag in my chair. Nathan is finally here.

  The door opens and nope. Not Nathan. Even worse is the familiar face beaming at me.

  Dr. Fischer pokes her head around the door before she steps fully inside. “Hello, Kiersten.”

  Can I die now? Someone else, please take the friggen wheel. Flames lick my cheeks hotly and not the good kind. I haven’t seen her since “the incident” as I’m now calling it in my head when the memory graces me with its horrific presence. I searched other options for care, but our town is too tiny without driving thirty miles away. I considered it, boy did I ever, but with winter upon us, it didn’t seem smart to navigate slick streets f
urther into my pregnancy. This OB department works on a rotation, and I thought, hoped, and prayed for her to trade me off with another doctor for my appointments. Judging by her reappearance, that’s not the case.

  “Um, hi.”

  She takes a seat on her wheeled chair. “How have you been feeling?”

  I shift awkwardly, not feeling the need to strike up mundane conversation. “Oh, you know. Pretty good. Just pregnant.”

  “Relax.” She places her hand on my arm with a gentle squeeze. My gaze shoots to where she touches me. “You probably don’t need an exam today.”

  So many phrases flit through my head, but she removes her hand and clicks around in my medical chart on her screen before I utter a single one.

  “Let’s get a quick measurement, but everything in here looks good. Hop up on the table for me, please.” She advances to the sink to wash her hands.

  I clamber onto the narrow table and scoot back without falling off the side. Once lying on a slight angle, I take a couple of extra breaths behind her back. The kind words have done zilch so far to quell my embarrassment.

  “Go ahead and lift your shirt.” She retrieves a paper measuring tape while I do as I’m told and places one end just at my pubic bone. Her hands make me flinch.

  “Sorry. They’re cold, aren’t they?” She smiles as she pulls the tape up along my belly.

  “Yeah, something like that,” I mumble as I watch her face instead of her hands. More like they make my skin crawl.

  As she presses around on the top of my bump, her expression morphs to one of concentration though her smile remains firmly fixed.

  Any anxiety over her touching me instantly fades to white background noise. Lifting my head, I peer down at the measuring tape over my belly. “Is something wrong?”

  “Does your belly always feel like this?”

  Now I’m offended. What’s wrong with my belly?