Page 109 of Homewrecker

He rubbed his hand across his jaw. “I really just need some time to process this.”

I smiled because I understood. I’d needed the same thing. Five tests. Three hours of pacing.

His entire life had changed the moment he opened that box. He deserved a minute.

“Okay.”

He walked back over and kissed my forehead “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then his hand touched my stomach. My heart melted.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.”

He left and I stood there smiling. Completely fucking oblivious. I ordered pasta, put on pajamas, and climbed into bed. I spent an irresponsible amount of time looking at pregnancy apps. According to one, my baby was possibly the size of a poppy seed.

I touched my stomach. “You’re tiny.”

My eyes got heavy because growing a human was exhausting work.

I looked at my phone to see no messages from Caleb yet. That was okay. He was processing. Maybe he’d call after work screaming. Maybe he’d show up with flowers. Maybe he’d already started looking at cribs.

Caleb was probably sitting somewhere staring into space realizing he was going to be a father. His dream. Our dream. Finally happening.

I rolled onto my side and pulled the comforter around me and closed my eyes.

I was completely certain that when Caleb called me later, the nervous man who’d walked out my door would be gone. He just needed time. Time to process, understand, and realize what I already knew. The baby wasn’t a problem.

The baby was proof that after everything we’d gone through, we were finally becoming a family.

17

Blair

Wine at Nash’s house had apparently become a thing. We decided to go there after a movie date and the movie was absolutely terrible.

“That shit was two hours and fourteen minutes of nothing,” I complained the second we walked into his kitchen.

Nash headed for the wine cabinet. “It was boring.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Things happened,” he argued, pulling out a bottle.

I leaned against the island. “Name three.”

He opened the wine and I waited for his answer.

When none came, I smiled. “Exactly.”

He shook his head. “You have no appreciation for storytelling.”

“I have an appreciation for stories where something actually happens.”

He laughed and poured my glass before sliding it toward me.