by Sophie Stern
To my right is the classic jukebox and bathrooms. This is good. Now that I’m pregnant, I’m obsessive about locating bathrooms anytime I go somewhere new. I’m having such a hard time controlling myself at slightly over two months pregnant. How am I going to handle trimester number three?
I’ve heard enough horror stories from my coworkers who had had babies to know it’s not easy handling a tiny person kicking your bladder. Still, that’s a long way off and it’s not anything I need to worry about right now.
I sit, pressing my hands nervously on the counter. I need some food. I need to get something in my stomach before I can even think about what just happened with Aidan. I’m terrified to tell him the truth, terrified to tell him what just happened here. I had the perfect opportunity to give him some awesome, amazing news. He’s going to be a dad! I freaked out, though. He probably thinks I’m a crazy person.
Fuck, what if he thinks I’m too nuts to be a mom?
What if he thinks I won’t be a good mother?
He’ll be a good father. There’s no doubt in my mind about that, but will he feel the same way about me? And is this what he wants? Is he ready for that? Is it ready for it to be with me? Even if we don’t date or get married or anything like that, this baby is going to latch us together for a long time. Is he going to be okay with that?
I hate the idea that he might be waiting for some perfect woman to start a family with. He’s fucking gorgeous and smart and holy dragons, he’s a baker. That fact alone is enough to send me into near-orgasmic bliss and I can’t quite believe it. I’ve learned a lot about baking during my time working at the Morris Creek Bakery. I never imagined I’d find someone with similar career goals, much less someone who owns his own shop.
But even if for some reason he liked me, wanted me, would he want us?
Would he want me and the baby?
It’s such a messed up situation that I don’t even know where to begin sorting my feelings. Fortunately, I hear someone clearing their throat, and I look up. A slender woman with dark brown hair and a stunning smile is looking at me.
“You okay, honey?”
“Not really.”
“Milkshake?”
“Fuck, yes,” I slap my hand over my mouth immediately and shake my head. “Sorry,” I mumble.
She just laughs and waves her hand.
“Don’t you worry about a little cussin’, doll. You should hear some of the stuff the locals say.”
“Are you, um, from around here?” I ask. We both know what I’m really asking. Are you a shifter? The woman doesn’t narrow her eyes or frown or make me feel uncomfortable for asking something like this.
“Yes,” she says simply, and then she goes to make the milkshake. When she returns a few minutes later, she places the clear glass in front of me.
“Chocolate,” I smile. “My favorite. Thank you!”
“Of course,” she says. She slides a menu to me, then starts chatting as I sip my milkshake and look at my dining options. “What about you? What brings you to Honeypot?”
“I came to talk to someone,” I say.
“Is that right?”
How much information do I give at this moment in time? This woman is obviously a shifter. She’s from around here. She works at the diner where everyone in town seems to eat, so she obviously knows Aidan. If I tell her anything at all, eventually she’s going to figure out who I’m talking about.
I should keep my mouth shut.
Only, I’m really lonely, and I could really use a friend.
I could really use someone to talk to.
I could use anyone.
“Yeah,” I manage to say, and take another sip of my milkshake. “Um, I’ll have a burger and fries, please.”
“Coming right up,” she takes my menu and writes the order, then hands it back to the cook. Then she comes back and leans on the counter.
“Um, what’s up?” I ask.
“Spill.”
“Excuse me?”
“Look,” she says, her smile flattening into a thin line. “We both know you didn’t just come to Honeypot to ‘talk to someone,’ so get real with me. Why are you here and what do you want?”
“No, I really am here to talk to someone.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah.” I stare at my milkshake.
“Who?”
“Aidan Element.”
“What? Why?” She looks aghast, as if that wasn’t what she expected me to say.
“Look, it’s kind of personal, okay? I just…I need to talk with him about some stuff, so I came to see him.”
“You aren’t a reporter?”
“What? No.”
“Journalist?”
“Negative.”
“Government official?”
“Do I look like the FBI?” I ask wryly, and she smiles again.
“Never can be too careful.”
I finish my milkshake and push it across the counter.
“Any chance I can get another one?” I ask.
The waitress laughs, then takes my glass.
“I know these are delicious, but for such a tiny little thing, you really put it away. You pregnant or something?” She winks, but my entire face goes pale. I can feel the color drain at her question. “Oh, fuck,” she says, realization dawning on her face. “Fuck!”
She quickly leaves and makes another milkshake, then brings it back and puts it in front of me. Then she comes around the counter and sits next to me. The woman takes my hands.
“Tell me everything,” she whispers.
So I do.
Chapter 5
Aidan
After Mia leaves, it’s one customer after another until 5:00. Finally, I flip the sign on my door to “closed” and lock up for the night. On most nights, I’ll stay open until 7:00 or later. I like my customers to be able to stop by after work and pick things up on their way home, but tonight I’m exhausted.
By the time I finish cleaning up my equipment and mopping the kitchen floor, it’s past six. I leave through the back door and head to my little house, which is conveniently located right behind my bakery. I could use a shower and a quick dinner before I go looking for Mia. She’s definitely still in town: that much I know for certain. It won’t take much asking around to figure out exactly where she is. If Selena at the diner doesn’t know, her brother-in-law, Carter, definitely will. Nothing gets past that bear.
I take the few steps up my porch and push open the door to my house. When I built on this land, I did so with a family in mind. I’m that guy. I’m the guy who pictured the wife and kids hanging out in my shop. I’m the guy who dared to dream. Maybe it’s because I’m a shifter or maybe it’s because my brother and I were so close growing up, but I’ve always wanted a woman to share my life and my home with. I’ve always wanted kids, wanted a family.
Tonight my place feels extra lonely when I push open the door and walk inside. Maybe it’s because Mia visited. Well, she sort-of visited. I don’t know why she came into the shop. It wasn’t to see me. There was some other reason.
Oh yeah: pie. She said something about pie.
Only it stings that she just wanted pie and I treated her like garbage because I felt hurt. I owe her an apology. I definitely, absolutely, completely owe her an apology.
Tonight I’m beyond tired, but I still plan to go find out if she’s still in town and what she’s up to. It’s not like her to just stop by Honeypot for a random visit. Richard comes occasionally to offer counseling services, but Mia doesn’t work in therapy. She doesn’t come to Honeypot for her job. She came here for a reason and I’m more than a little curious about that.
Kicking off my shoes, I head upstairs to take a shower. Washing the sweat, the pain, the frustration of the day off myself will help. It always does. As soon as the water is pouring over me, I start thinking of Mia.
She’s so fucking perfect.
I’m tired of thinking that, but I just can’t stop.
The thing t
hat just gets me about her is that she has no idea what a peach she really is. She doesn’t know how cute or sweet or lovely she is. I know, though. I try to push the regret I feel out of my head. I should have called her, pursued her. I should have told her how much I wanted her. I should have asked her to be with me, to give me a chance. I should have told her how much I care.
In today’s modern world, though, it’s a fine line between showing your interest and coming across as creepy, and I wanted to make sure she was interested before I made a move. I tried to be a gentleman.
That really worked out well for me. I resist punching the wall in the shower, but I’m so damn frustrated I can taste my anxiety. Apparently, I waited too fucking long to go after Mia. I should have just been blunt. I should have been straightforward.
What did I really have to lose?
She’s probably dating someone else by now, probably warming his bed at night. The thought kills me. It shouldn’t. I should want her to be happy, no matter who she’s with. I should want Mia to be happy, even if it isn’t with me.
But maybe I’m selfish.
Maybe when a shifter finds his mate, he can never move on.
Maybe it really is it like being struck by lightning.
Maybe you can never quite get over it.
The water rushes over my chest and down my body. I think of the night we spent together, and my dick hardens at the memory. Mia crawled all over me like I was the only thing she needed, like I was the only one she’d ever wanted.
She was so curious, so wet, so eager. We danced the night away and then we made love over and over again. I think of Mia’s soft skin and the little noises she made as I ate her pussy. She had no qualms about her body or her figure as she climbed over me, kissing and licking me right back.
She rode my face like it was exactly where she belonged.
She came over my mouth as she owned the moment.
She cried out when I finally plunged my cock into her soft, sweet pussy.
And then she came again with me inside of her.
I come against the shower tiles as I’m thinking of the moment I came inside of her. Nothing has ever felt so perfect in my damn life and I’m an idiot for letting her go.
***
When I get out of the shower, I slip on some pajama pants and grab my phone. There’s a single text from Selena. Weird. Why would she be messaging me? I mean, we’re acquaintances, but I wouldn’t say we were close. We’re certainly not regular texters.
Then I open the message.
Mia is coming to see you. Be nice.
That’s all it says. I want to ask how she knows Mia, but it doesn’t even matter. Selena works at the diner in Honeypot, which means she knows everything that happens in Honeypot. Nothing gets past her. People go into the diner to relax, but they also talk a lot: more than they should.
Selena practically runs the place. The owner, Rufus Brown, is an old man now. He doesn’t have the time or interest to take proper care of the diner, so he pays Selena a shitload of money to handle everything for him and she does a damn good job. Whether it’s dealing with rowdy customers, arranging new menu specials, or organizing special events, she can do anything.
Anything.
I stare at my phone. If Selena is warning me about Mia, it means she not only knows that Mia is here, but she knows why Mia’s in town. I’m guessing Mia spent the afternoon at Bumble’s Diner. Was she pouring her heart out to Selena? Was she telling her everything that’s wrong with her life?
Did she tell her why she needs to come talk to me specifically?
I decide to keep things simple. Instead of asking Selena to fill me in via text, I respond politely, then hurry to get ready.
Thanks for the heads up.
I quickly grab a shirt and pull it over my head, then look hastily around the living room. It’s a mess. While I keep my bakery completely spotless, I can’t seem to do the same thing with my home. There’s really no saving it. I can shove everything in the closet, but I’m too shocked to even bother.
Mia is coming over.
She’s coming to see me.
I don’t have to wait long because the doorbell rings just then and I practically throw myself at the door in a rush to get it open. I manage to find the handle and open it like a normal person. Breathe. I try to breathe.
“Mia,” I say. She’s standing in front of me shaking nervously, and it’s all I can do to keep from drawing her back into my arms.
That’s what got us in trouble earlier, though. I was holding her and everything went to hell so fast. She said she had something to do in Honeypot, someone to see.
Was she talking about me?
“Can I come in?” She asks quietly. Her voice is almost a whisper.
“Of course.” I try to sound normal. I try to sound like I’m not a teenager whose girlfriend sneaked over when his parents were out of town.
She walks past me and goes to the couch. She pushes my laundry aside and sits down. If the mess bothers her, Mia doesn’t say anything. Despite the clutter of my living room and despite her disheveled appearance, I can’t help but appreciate her grace.
Mia is gorgeous, to be sure, but she’s also collected and calm and just graceful. She moves like a dancer, like the world is her stage. She moves like she can do anything she wants if she just puts her mind to it.
She puts her hands on her lap and starts to fidget. I close the front door and come into the room, sitting on the coffee table in front of her. There’s not a lot of space and my knees are on the outside of her legs, enclosing her.
“What is it, Mia?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“You don’t need pie?” I raise an eyebrow. She laughs nervously.
“That was a stupid thing to say,” she admits. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, if I made you feel unimportant.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. Look, Aidan, I came here to talk with you. I…I care a lot about you. That night we spent together, it was just so damn perfect.”
“It was.”
“I know we said it would just be one night and nothing more: no pressure for a commitment. That’s why I didn’t call you.” She’s still fidgeting and I place my hands on hers. She looks up and meets my eyes.
“I told you that you could call me. The ball was in your court. It was your decision.” It has to be her decision. She has to want this, too. I adore her, but I would never force her into anything.
Maybe it’s because my parents are divorced, but I would never want a woman to date me because she felt obligated to do so. No matter what the reasons might be, I wouldn’t want someone to be with me just because she felt like she was supposed to. Just because we slept together doesn’t mean Mia needs to be my girlfriend. I wanted her to call me because she wanted to: not out of guilt.
I wonder if she didn’t call because she was scared or if there was another reason. Suddenly, I wonder if big brother had something to say.
“Were you worried about what Richard might think?” I never really cared if Richard knew I was interested in Mia. His sister’s decisions about dating are none of his business, as far as I’m concerned, but maybe Mia cares.
Maybe he’s been holding her back.
“If you’re worried about your brother, I can talk to him, Mia. I’d be happy to.”
“It’s not Richard.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts out. “I’m pregnant, Aidan. I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 6
Mia
The word “pregnant” hangs in the air like a cloud hovering over us. It’s so final, so big, so loud. It’s this huge life event, this huge thing, and it’s just there waiting for him to respond.
I told him.
I finally womaned up and told him what was holding me back from pursuing a relationship with him, what was keeping me from being honest with him about my feelings and the possibility of a future between us.
<
br /> Now it’s up to him.
“Is that it?” He asks.
“What?”
“You’re afraid I won’t want you because you’re pregnant?”
“I’m afraid you won’t want me because you’re the father,” I say, whispering. Does he know what I’m saying? Does he understand? This is so huge. This is such a big, huge thing, and he’s being strangely calm.
“Why would you think that?” To my surprise, Aidan doesn’t seem upset that I’m pregnant. He seems upset I wouldn’t trust him to stay with me. He seems upset I thought he’d want out of this.
“It’s just that, you know, most guys…”
My voice trails off because I don’t really know how to finish what I was about to say. Most guys what? Most guys wouldn’t want a baby they hadn’t planned for? Most guys wouldn’t want a baby with me? Most guys wouldn’t want a baby with a human?
How can I say this so it doesn’t sound shitty?
Because the truth is we both know Aidan isn’t most guys. A bit of hurt flashes in his eyes and I realize that even though I didn’t finish my sentence, the message is clear: I compared him to other men, lesser men. I compared him to people who aren’t as loyal as he is. I compared him to people who react poorly when they’re afraid.
“Most guys are assholes, Mia,” he whispers. His legs are trapping mine, keeping mine in place, and he places his hands on my thighs. A shiver of excitement, of comfort, of hope shoots through my body.
When Aidan touches me, I feel fucking alive. I feel like I could float away and that everything would be okay. I feel like nothing can touch me or hurt me or break me. He’s all I need.
That’s how he makes me feel.
“You aren’t most guys.”
“You seem to think so.”
“I’m just scared.”
“That’s understandable. How long have you known?”
“Not long. A few days.”
“Have you told anyone?”
“You mean my brother?” I laugh. “Yeah, right. I think we both know exactly what he’s going to say.”
