“There you are!” She hustled over to me.
Me. She had been looking forme. Warmth exploded in my chest.
“You will not believe what happened. You know Bernadette from Sunshine Rescue? She called here. Said they have an emu that needs a temporary place. They already have a permanent home, but they need a week to get it ready.” Chloe tugged at my arm and looked up at me expectantly. “Anemu, Steven. It’s not an ostrich but that’s probably for the best. I don’t think an ostrich will let you play dress up. They are way more mean than emus.”
I stared down at her eager, upturned face. It took everything I had not to kiss her. “You already said yes, didn’t you?”
“Yousaidyou wanted an emu. Of course I said yes. Anyway, you have the space,” she reminded me. “And it’s only for a week.”
She was right. In addition to the chicken coop and pig pen, there was a four-stall barn and small pasture. Although I fully planned on getting horses someday, right now it was empty.
“I wonder why Bernadette thought of me,” I said. “I don’t know the first thing about caring for emus.”
Chloe shrugged. “Neither did the so-called petting zoo who had him for the past two years. If he could survive that, he can survive a week with you. Bernadette will be here later this afternoon, and she promised she’d walk you through all the care and feeding.” Then she grinned. “Apparently, emus get along great with pigs.”
“I’m going to have a whole damn menagerie,” I muttered, loading my arms with groceries from the truck. When Chloe reached for one, I handed her the toilet paper instead. She rolled her eyes but allowed it.
“You hungry?” I asked as we headed up the steps.
“Starving.” She shot me a mischievous grin over her shoulder. “You got home right on time. I was about to make myself a bowl of cereal.”
Well, look at that. I didn’t have to turn myself into a giraffe, after all. Somehow, right now, I was already exactly what she wanted. Just me. Just for this moment. I knew that.
But I wanted so much more.
25
CHLOE
Pregnancy Week 15:Radish is the size of an apple
At this point,I was just stalling.
I was well into the second trimester now and full of energy (and horniness). Every doctor appointment I’d had so far had determined that Radish and I were in perfect health—and there had been plenty of appointments, as Dr. Davidson tended toward caution, and my extreme level of nausea in the first trimester had worried her. Slowly but surely, the feelings of doom had receded. I still worried about being a good mom and bringing a new life into a fucked up world and what the hell was going on with Radish’s dad, but at least I had stopped worrying that Radish would slip out when I peed.
But I still hadn’t told my family.
One reason I hadn’t told them was because I knew they would have questions about the baby’s father, and I couldn’t answer those questions yet. I still hadn’t heard from Gabe and now I really was starting to worry. Maybe he had lost his phone, but maybe he had gotten into a terrible motorcycle accident andwas in a hospital somewhere, or maybe he had gone straight over a cliff. The nightmare scenarios were endless.
The other reason I hadn’t told them was because I was chickenshit. Not because I was scared of how they would react. I knew that would be fine. Mom would be out-of-her-mind thrilled to be a grandma. Terry would be a little bit uncomfortable at first with the incontrovertible evidence that his unmarried, thirty-year-old daughter was no longer a virgin, but he’d rally. Grams would be her ghostly self. My brothers might have strong feelings about Radish’s dad not being around, but what could they do about it?
But I was terrified to tell them things had to change. I was already spread too thin. Once Radish was born and I was a full-time licensed clinical social work therapist, there was no way I’d be able to help them every week. I felt like I was letting everyone down.
And now I couldn’t stall any longer. Steven and Amy had been invited to join us for Thanksgiving dinner, and even though I was wearing a loose sweater over my black leggings, my bump was no longer invisible. I’d been able to hide it strategically until now, but over the last week it was like my belly had suddenly popped out like a balloon.
“Come on, honey,” Steven cooed like I was a horse that needed calming. “Get out of the car.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t use that tone with me, Steven. I will bite you.”
His dark eyes flashed like he was remembering something sinful. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll biteyou,” he murmured for my ears only.
I flushed, remembering how much I had liked the feeling of his teeth on my nipple. But he hadn’t shown any interest in a repeat. He had been so damn polite the past two days, I wanted to wring his damn neck.
When I still didn’t move, Steven gave a beleaguered sigh. “There’s pie, Chloe. You like pie. Do you want to come inside and have potatoes and pie, or do you want to stay in the truck and starve?”
My stomach rumbled plaintively. My appetite had been making up for lost time. “Fine,” I said, unbuckling. “But you’ve gotten mean, Steven.”
“That seems to be the only thing you like,” he muttered.
