I noticed her shirt was snug across her chest. Her breasts had gotten larger, even as she’d lost weight. I quickly skimmed over the rest of her. I couldn’t see if her belly had grown any.
I got up and headed toward her, and she immediately turned to me, questions in her eyes.
“You’ll stay with me, until we can figure something out. I’m going to grab a shower real quick and we’ll talk some more,” I told her curtly.
Breakfast was ready when I came back in, and we settled to eating. We avoided talking about the issue at hand, but I was still trying to control my temper when I thought about her parents.
I picked up the dishes after we finished eating, motioning Hannah to stay seated. “You cook, I clean. That’s the rule,” I told her, cleaning up.
“We can switch that up right?” I heard her ask me. “Because I can’t cook that many things.”
Her words startled a laugh out of me, “Yeah, we can switch it up.”
Finally, I was done and couldn’t put it off any longer. We settled on the couch. It seemed we’d had a few epic conversations on this couch.
“How long? I need to know how long,” I burst out. This was the question that’d been running through my head all night.
“Three weeks, as of yesterday,” she told me softly, apologetically, like it was her fault. I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed them.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I finally muttered, glancing at her.
“Pride? Embarrassment? Shame? I don’t know. But I’d already told you I was pregnant, and I couldn’t force myself to tell you I was homeless too,” she answered, looking me directly in the eye.
“I don’t understand. They threw you out as soon as you told them?”
She took a deep breath and looked at the bookshelf.
“No, they ignored me. I told them at dinner, and they gave me the silent treatment. When I came home from school the next day, they’d packed my stuff and it was waiting for me on the driveway. Mother informed me they had changed the locks and I could take the boxes. Otherwise, they would be donated to the women’s shelter,” she said calmly.
I stood up and started pacing. I couldn’t sit still hearing this. “They didn’t even talk to you? They just packed your clothes? And that was it? Who does that?” I shouted, and I knew I didn’t need to be shouting at Hannah, but I was so frustrated at what her parents did that I couldn’t seem to help myself. She seemed to understand this and remained quiet, as I paced.
I finally dropped to my knees in front of her and said, “You should have told me. It kills me that you were dealing with all of this alone.”
She reached out and pulled my head to her and hugged me. “I know I should have. I debated it a thousand times. I wanted to, but you’ve helped me so much. I couldn’t add anymore.”
“Helped? I’ve barely done anything. You’ve been sleeping in a car!” I replied, exasperated at her stubbornness. “But that changes. You are staying here from now on. No arguments,” I said firmly, my eyebrow raised in challenge.
“No arguments,” she told me, fingers forming the scout’s salute. “I could call my grandparents in Maine. They’re my Father’s parents. But they sold their house and are traveling the country in an RV. Plus, I don’t want to be the one to tell them their son is a douchebag.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the description of her father.
“No, it’s fine for you to stay here. We’ll make it work,” I said, the enormity of the situation starting to dawn on me. I’d just demanded my brother’s pregnant sixteen-year-old ex-girlfriend live with me in my one-bedroom apartment.
I took a deep breath, because I knew I had to find a way to make this work. She had nowhere to go and she needed my help, because I was the only one that could provide it at the moment. I contemplated calling my parents, but I knew as soon as I did, Colt would find out, and I was not willing to do that.
“Alright, we’ll get your stuff out of your car. You’ll sleep in the bedroom and I’ll take the couch,” I started, getting up to go to her car. “We’ll figure this out as we go.”
“No,” Hannah told me.
“What? What do you mean no?” I demanded. We hadn’t even begun to go over everything, and she was telling me no.
“I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m not taking your bed. That would be wrong. What if you bring your girlfriend over?” she replied, logically.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.” I answered, with the first thought that popped into my head.
“That doesn’t mean you won’t,” she told me. “You’re a good looking guy. There’s gonna be a girl.”
I started smiling and replied, “There is no way I could ever explain your living with me to a girlfriend, so we can disregard that argument. You take the bed.”
“NO!” Hannah exclaimed. “I’m serious. You’re too tall to sleep on the couch. It’ll kill your back. You know I’m right. I’ve messed up your life enough without taking your bed.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said dismissively. Privately, I agreed, because sleeping on it last night was uncomfortable, but I was a gentleman. She glared at me, and I got the sense she was not giving up the argument. “Look, just for a couple of days, until I can get another bed. How’s that?”
She looked at me, “Another bed? Are you sure that’ll work?”
“Will you agree with me if I say yes?” I asked, wanting to get this settled.
“Yes. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” she said, nodding her head firmly.
“Then yes, I’ll get another bed to sleep in.”
“Alright, and I’ll pay you rent,” Hannah told me, resolutely.
“No,” I answered, holding up my hand, as I saw her about to object. “My parents provide the apartment, while I go to school. I work as an intern for my dad’s firm. I figure that alone is worth the rent. So you giving me money for rent is no good. You need to save it for college and stuff.”
“So your parents give you an allowance?” Hannah asked, puzzled. “Cause you offered me money.”
“Not exactly. They pay the utilities and rent, and I get a stipend from the school because of my scholarship. But I actually work during the school year making furniture,” I admitted quietly.
“My parents didn’t want me working, so I could focus on studying, but I found I loved making furniture. I found my calling accidentally. I’d met an old guy making a delivery one day, and we struck up a conversation. He offered to teach me in return for helping with deliveries. Eventually, he started paying me as I learned, and I made a couple custom pieces that sold.
“What’s the guy’s name?” Hannah asked me, after I explained my source of income to her.
“Joe. He’s in his seventies. He knows how to build anything. It’s a dying art. I think that’s why he encouraged me. I love creating pieces and working with my hands,” I told her eagerly. I’d never talked about this with anyone, not even Colt.
“Very different from being a lawyer,” Hannah observed.
“Yes, but a lawyer is what I’ll be. I started law school in the fall,” I answered firmly, standing up again. “Now, I’m going to unload the car. And, no, you are not helping.”
Hannah
Chapter Six
The weekend went by quickly. We settled into our new normal easily. I thought it would be awkward moving into Ford’s space, but he made certain it wasn’t. We went over bathroom etiquette and privacy rules, Ford assuring me it made life easier.
He told me he had a roommate his first year of college, and walking in on him having sex was enough to make him set ground rules … not that he thought it would be an issue with us, he promised me. I nodded my head agreeably, but I felt guilty.
No matter what Ford said, I was screwing up his life. He was used to living on his own, and here I was throwing a monkey wrench into everything. It wasn’t like he could invite a girl over to spend the night, and he wasn’t telling his parents or his brother I was staying there. The lies and secrets were beginning to stack
up.
I debated telling Olivia and seeing if I could stay with her, but she had a small loft, and I didn’t think there would be space for me. Plus, Ford was adamant about my staying with him.
He thought he had a responsibility to me and wanted to help. I couldn’t deny anymore that I needed help, and Ford made it easy to accept.
Monday morning found us sitting in the ob./gyn.’s office together and I couldn’t help feeling a bit awkward. It was obvious people thought we were a couple. It was my first visit, and Ford insisted on coming.
“I thought you had to work?” I asked him, thinking he would leave.
“I did. I called in sick,” he replied back with a grin. “Boss’s son should have some privileges.”
“Like taking said boss’s other son’s pregnant ex-girlfriend to the doctor?” I muttered back cheekily.
He busted out laughing and drew more eyes to us. I wanted to sink into the couch, as my cheeks turned bright red. Thankfully, the nurse called me back then. I got up to go and Ford was on my heels. I turned and raised an eyebrow at him, wondering where he thought he was going.
“I’m going with you. Isn’t that the point?” he responded to my look.
“I thought you would wait in the waiting room,” I muttered quietly. I didn’t want to attract any more attention and Ford was not budging, so I gave in ungraciously, “Fine.” They weighed me and took my blood pressure, then gave me a cup to pee in. I glanced at the cup and then at Ford, “You are not going in there with me.”
He gave me a charming smile and said, “I can wait out here,” I sighed, exasperated, and went into the bathroom.
They left us in a little room and told me to change into a paper gown for the pelvic exam. Ford finally looked awkward and my cheeks were burning.
I huffed and said, “Face the wall. You wanted to be here.” He spun around, and I quickly changed. I made sure everything was covered and told him to turn around. He did, but kept his eyes averted.
The doctor knocked, saving us from further awkwardness. We both started to tell her to come in and then trailed off, glancing at each other. The doctor came in anyway and reached over to shake my hand, “I’m Dr. Brady, and you must be Hannah.”
“Yes, ma'am,” I replied, as she turned to greet Ford. He returned her handshake and introduced himself. The doctor didn’t make any assumptions and quickly moved onto doing the pelvic exam.
“I like to get the pelvic exam out of the way first. Always the most awkward part,” she told me with a smile. “It looks like you’re right about eight weeks, based on your last period. We’ll do an ultrasound and see if we can hear the heartbeat. The nurse will come in and escort you to the sonogram room.”
The nurse came in immediately and told me to keep the gown on for the ultrasound. We walked into the next room where she told me it would be a vaginal ultrasound. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about, but I had no doubt it would embarrass me.
A few minutes later, the doctor came in and held up a wand that looked vaguely like a microphone. I grimaced slightly, because I knew where that was going. “Because it’s so early in the pregnancy we’ll do a vaginal ultrasound so we can get a clearer picture,” she told us.
Ford looked at the wall, and I stared at the ceiling, as the doctor inserted the wand into my vagina. I figured I’d eventually stop being embarrassed.
After a minute, the TV on the wall lit up, and I assumed that what I was seeing was my uterus. I motioned to Ford to look at it, as the doctor used a small arrow to point out the fetus. She mentioned the flickering was the heartbeat.
I reached out, and Ford’s hand found mine, as we stared at the flicker. There was an overwhelming ache in my chest, as if my heart was about to explode.
Suddenly we heard a rushing sound, a constant thrumming, beating very fast. Tears slipped down my cheeks, as I registered my baby’s heartbeat. Ford looked at me, and I saw his eyes were damp, as he blinked back his own tears.
“That’s a good strong heartbeat,” the doctor murmured quietly. “Would you like pictures?”
“Yes, please,” we both answered immediately, laughing softly at our simultaneous response.
I walked out of the office with a huge smile on my face, and when I looked at Ford I saw a matching grin on his face. He was as excited as I was. I couldn’t stop looking at the sonogram photos, so Ford caught my arm and guided me to the car.
“We need to celebrate!” he exclaimed excitedly. I looked at him, feeling the same way, but I hassled him anyway. “Celebrate? That was just the first visit!” I told him, smiling.
“Our baby has a heartbeat!” he shouted, and I looked around the parking lot to see if anyone saw the crazy man I was with. Ford hesitated, and then said uncomfortably, “I mean your baby. Well, Colt’s and your baby.” I could tell he was feeling embarrassed, so I smiled reassuringly, “I know what you mean. For all intents and purposes, it’s ours for now.”
Ford gave me a relieved grin, “Exactly. I feel the same way. But this deserves a celebration. Where do you want to go eat? You feeling okay?”
“I feel great. The queasiness will come later,” I told him, grinning. “How about Mexican?”
“That sounds good, and we can stop and drop off the prescription for the prenatal vitamins,” he said, opening my car door, ever the gentleman.
The next few weeks flew by. Olivia changed my hours, so I worked during the week, while school was out. This allowed my evenings and weekends to be free, and I wound up spending most of them with Ford.
He was working at his dad’s firm, until he started law school in the fall. He took me to the furniture shop and I met Joe. It wasn’t unusual for Ford to go by there a couple days a week to work on a piece. He also helped Joe make deliveries.
I wasn’t allowed to do anything, because of my delicate condition, as Ford liked to joke. So I walked around the neighborhood for exercise, while he worked. The furniture shop was in an old residential neighborhood a few blocks from Baylor University. Joe had built the shop in his backyard as a hobby years ago, and it had developed into a good business. He leased space in a couple of shops to showcase his furniture, but most of the work was done out of the shop.
His wife, Martha, was the sweetest woman. She would invite me to eat cookies with her while the guys got caught up in their work. It didn’t take long for me to spill our whole story to Martha. She kept a hankie in her pocket just like Ford. I used it a few times during our tea and cookies. Sometimes, she walked with me to keep me company.
They had us over for dinner on Saturdays and we always went, because Martha was a better cook than either of us. We could feed ourselves, but our repertoire was limited.
I started getting desperate and looked for recipes on Pinterest at work. Olivia caught me and immediately started questioning me.
“Learning to cook? You’re becoming a little Ms. Susie Homemaker,” she sing-songed, sitting on the edge of my desk. I flushed slightly and minimized the page.
“There’s nothing wrong with being able to cook,” I stated, gathering up some of the recipes I’d printed. I’d been making a grocery list from the recipes, because Ford was planning on picking me up so we could go grocery shopping. We’d both decided trying new things was a good idea if we didn’t want to go crazy. Martha had given me her pot roast recipe, and that was at the top of my list.
“So you’ve been spending a great deal of time with Ford, since Colt left,” Olivia mentioned, hinting for me to dish on what was going on.
“Um, well, we get along, and we both miss Colt,” I hedged. I still hadn’t told Olivia I was pregnant, and now I was afraid she’d think it was Ford’s baby! She also didn’t know I lived with him, and I was hoping she left before she saw him pick me up. I should’ve known by then that Olivia wouldn’t give up.
“Come on! Is there something between you and Ford? I kind of wondered; back when you set me up with him. It seemed like you wanted him to be in a relationship. I thought maybe so you wouldn’t be tem
pted to dump Colt and go after him yourself,” Olivia rambled, as my eyes widened at her theories. I started sputtering denials and she laughed saying, “Where there’s smoke there’s a fire.”
“What? That doesn't make any sense!” I told her, shaking my head at her ridiculousness. “There’s nothing between me and Ford but friendship.”
“Uh huh,” Olivia said, slipping off my desk. “I’m off. Got a hot date with a cutie,” she said, with a wink. I was relieved, as she waltzed out the door and hopped into a convertible. I stole a peek at the guy driving, and she was right. He was a cutie.
The Anderson Brothers Complete Series Page 5
