God, this sucks. Already all I can think about is food.
The pros are the people, though. Presley, Cayden, Logan, her family, Zach, Wyatt, and his family. They’ll be here to help with the baby, and they’ve already accepted me into the family. It’s a pretty big pro. I won’t have that in Philly. The Chinese food guy won’t come watch the baby so I can shower. I shudder. That would be gross and creepy. Plus, it doesn’t matter if I have all the cheesesteaks in the world, they won’t give me a shoulder to cry on. I also can’t ignore the fact that when I’m in Philly, I miss Presley and the boys. I would be lying if I didn’t wish we were living in the same town again.
“Pres,” I whisper. “I’m scared.”
When I drag my gaze away from the countertop I was staring at, she’s already leaning against the edge watching me. I know that look. I’ve seen it many times. She’s trying to find a way to talk me off the proverbial ledge. “I know you are. I would be, too. This is a lot for you and I can’t give you the answers, but I can tell you that you’re loved. You would have a lot of people who would help you.”
“Where would I even live?”
Her mouth opens and closes before she lets out a heavy sigh. “You know you can live here, right?”
“I couldn’t.” I shake my head.
She’s getting married in six months. The last thing I want to do is disrupt her new life with Zach. There’s not a shadow of a doubt that they’d welcome me in. But I have to think of not only them, but myself as well. I would kill her. I love her, but living with her isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I like being able to kick off my shoes and eat ice cream from the carton. Presley wants the shoes in a neat row by the door and believes there’s a reason for a bowl. We’re different. I’m more free spirited. She’s more organized.
I need to be on my own.
“Why not?” I give her a look that says everything I thought and she giggles. She knows that if I don’t kill her first, she will off me. “Then the only other option is Wyatt.”
I sigh. Damn him. “You know he was all alpha stupid with saying we will get married?”
“I’m not surprised. It’s not being alpha—it’s being Southern.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he wants to take care of you. He’s a good man, Ang. He will always take care of his responsibilities. He was raised that way, and his mama raised him right. He may act like a child most of the time, but he’ll do right by you and this baby.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t want to be his charity case. Just because we had sex, it doesn’t mean he needs to give up everything. He can still be a father to our child without me having to move here. I would never keep the baby from him.”
She nods. “I don’t think anyone is disputing that, but do you remember when the boys were little?”
“Yeah?” I don’t know where she’s going with this.
“A lot happens when they’re little. The first smile. The first time they start to crawl or walk. It’s a lot of little things that only happen for the first time—once.”
I don’t disagree with her. “That said, I’m not certain that means I should uproot my life.”
“Don’t you think it would be nice to have help with an infant? He’ll be a good dad, and he wants to be there.”
“I know he’ll be a good dad, Pres. I’ve seen how he is with Cayden and Logan.”
I believe that deep down in my soul. Wyatt made it clear that he’ll be around for the baby. He wants to be involved, and I’ll never begrudge him his own child, but I’m not marrying the man. He’s lost his damn mind if he thinks I’m going to because he thinks it’s “the right thing to do.” Whenever I finally decide to marry someone, which will probably be never, it’s going to be for the right reasons.
“It’ll work out,” Presley says with conviction. “I know it.”
“Ugh!” I drop my head in my hands. “Everything is so fucked up!”
“Or maybe everything is finally falling into place.”
Since I’m not really sure about the rules for pregnancy and coffee, I grab a cup of tea, head out to the wrap-around porch, and plop myself in one of the Adirondack chairs. With everyone still asleep, the house is quiet, and the pre-dawn morning is peaceful. I take a sip of my drink, wince, and make a mental note to ask my doctor about my coffee allowance. There’s no telling what kind of awful bitch I’ll become if I can’t have it, but I don’t want to do anything to hurt the baby in the meantime.