Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100661 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
“Oh, my dear, this is a small town. Exciting news travels quickly.” She looked worried for a moment. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”
“Not necessarily,” I said. “I just haven’t talked much about it. I guess I was a little worried what people might think.”
She patted my arm. “It’s your life. You get to choose how you live it.”
“The baby was a surprise,” I admitted. “But Joe has been really supportive. We won’t look like a regular family, but we’re going to make it work.”
“Of course you are! And what does a ‘regular family’ look like anyway?” She waved a hand in the air. “Family is whatever you say it is, whether you share blood or a last name or even just love. What matters is that you’re there for each other and that baby.”
I teared up—I couldn’t help it. “Thank you,” I said, laughing as I wiped beneath my eyes. “Sorry about the tears. I’m so emotional lately.”
“You should be emotional! You’re having a baby.” She smiled and gestured toward the roses. “With someone who cares deeply about you—enough to remember the important days in your life and send flowers.”
“He’s very thoughtful,” I said.
And sending roses wasn’t all he did for me that day. That night at the event, I was told that a nice donation had come in from an out-of-town donor who wanted to remain anonymous. “Really?” I asked the board treasurer, who’d received the email that afternoon. “You have no idea who it is?”
“Well,” she said, her eyes sparkling a little, “I do, but I’m ethically bound to keep the name concealed. All I was given permission to say was that it was someone who sat next to you on a recent flight and was very impressed with your passion for the historical society. The donation was made in your name.”
For the second time that day, Joe caused my eyes to mist over from hundreds of miles away. “I believe I remember this person,” I said, unable to keep from smiling.
She grinned. “You must have made quite an impression.”
I got home around eleven and called him right away. It went straight to voicemail, which I was expecting, since I knew he’d still be at the game.
“Joe Lupo! What are you trying to do to me? I’ve been an emotional wreck all day—first the roses and then the donation! It’s all too much. I don’t know how to thank you, but please know how grateful I am.” I sighed. “Anyway, I hope you won tonight. Talk to you soon.”
I hit end and lowered myself onto the couch, slipping off my flats. I’d started the evening in heels but very quickly realized they were not comfortable or practical at twenty-two weeks pregnant. Cleo came and curled around my ankles, looking for attention. Absentmindedly, I reached down to pet her. The roses from Joe were in a vase on the coffee table, their petals vibrant and velvety, their scent soft and sweet. I leaned a little closer and inhaled.
Love, Joe.
He was so damn sweet. Rarely did a day pass without at least a text checking in with me, asking how I was feeling, wondering if there was anything I needed.
Yes, you, I’d think.
“Nope, I’m good,” I’d say.
And it wasn’t a lie. I was good. I had everything I needed—my health, a house, a job, my cat, my family and friends, financial security. What purpose would it serve to admit to Joe that sometimes at night I got lonely and scared and wished he were here to hold me?
No sense in going down a road that you knew came to a dead end.
Inside me, the baby kicked.
“Hey, Nicky. You’re up late too, huh?” I’d taken to using that name, even though we hadn’t settled the matter for sure. It just seemed to suit the little guy. “Should we have a snack?”
I’d been so busy at the event that I hadn’t eaten much. Rising from the couch, I wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. As soon as I saw the jar of pickles, I wanted one desperately.
As I was unscrewing the top, my phone buzzed. Joe was FaceTiming me. Excited, I accepted and his face filled my screen. “Hey!”
“Hey, cupcake.” He leaned back against his couch, a grin on his face. His hair appeared damp and messy. “You look nice.”
“Thanks.” I looked down at the navy maternity cocktail dress I wore. “There were lots of people dressed in 1920s costumes—fringed dresses and top hats and feather boas. I looked boring in comparison.”
“You look beautiful. You got your surprise?”
“I got two of them!” Turning around, I rested my hips against the counter. “Thank you! You did not have to do either of those things. But you made my day—twice.”
“How did everything go tonight?”
“It was a great success. The board was happy, the guests had fun, and we raised good money. Thank you again for the generous donation, by the way.”