“You’re here!” Katie yelled as we walked back in the house.
“Well, I live here. We considered heading for the border but decided against it. Painting’s easier than living on the lam,” I replied drily, making Dan chuckle.
“Okay, well the boys are all ready to paint so we’re going to leave them to it and go get furniture!” Kate said excitedly, throwing her purse over her shoulder. “Shane’s got all the kids at my parents’ house. I have the whole day!”
“Uh—” Frankly, I’d rather paint.
“No arguing,” Liz ordered, coming down my hallway. “Take that bandana off your head, and let’s go.”
I reached up and pulled my painting bandana from my hair. “Okay, well I need to show them where the trim paint is. I figured we’d just use the stuff left over from the living room. It’s white, so—”
“Bram already got it out,” Kate said cheerfully. “Let’s go!”
I gritted my teeth at the sound of his name.
I let them usher me out of the house without argument. It wasn’t like I’d wanted to spend the day with Bram anyway. Hopefully the guys would be done by the time we got back.
* * *
For as much as I’d dreaded the shopping trip, by the end of the first hour at Ikea, I was as excited as Katie. We’d found a crib and a changing table that were thankfully much less expensive than I’d been imagining, and I’d let Aunt Ellie and Liz pick out a bunch of small stuff like towels and baby spoons.
“You’re not paying,” I argued with Liz as she pulled out a credit card. “No way.”
“Well, you didn’t get a baby shower so this is my gift,” she said with a sunny smile, swiping the card before I could stop her.
“I can pay for this stuff,” I said in exasperation as Katie pulled out a reusable bag from her purse and started loading up the purchases.
“I know you can,” Liz huffed. “I’d kick Dan’s ass if you couldn’t.”
I snorted. She wouldn’t need to be kicking anyone’s ass. Dan and Mike paid me well over what any of my office manager counterparts were making. I’d argued when I first started, but they hadn’t budged, and each year they gave me a cost-of-living raise that was way more than average.
“Okay, now we need to go get a car seat, diapers, clothes, and stuff like that,” Kate announced as we walked the big cart out to the truck. “Sound good?”
I looked at my phone to check the time. The guys were going to be at my house for hours still, and the thought of seeing Bram made my stomach knot up.
“Yep. Sounds good to me.”
“Since we don’t know if the baby’s a boy or girl yet, I figured we could just buy some gender-neutral stuff—just enough to get you guys home from the hospital,” Aunt Ellie said with a grunt as we lifted the box of crib parts into the truck bed. “We can get you more clothes and things after we know.”
“Good idea.” I nodded my head.
“Have you thought of any names?” Liz asked as she closed the tailgate and we walked around to our doors.
Names? Shit.
I hadn’t even thought about it. Whenever I thought of the baby, I still considered it Bethy’s. I’d unconsciously assumed that she would name the baby, and I guess there was a chance she still might.
But I was adopting the baby. I would be his or her parent forever. If I wanted to pick a different name, I could do that.
“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I said as I buckled up. “I guess I probably should.”
“Do you have any ideas?” Katie asked, checking her phone and then stuffing it back in her purse.
“Not really.”
“Well, I think you should use an A name,” she said, dropping her purse on the floorboard as Liz pulled the truck out of the parking lot. “Since you and Abraham are both A names.”
“Katie.” I drew out her name, sighing. “Bram’s not a part of this.”
“Of course he is. You guys are together and—” she argued.
“He doesn’t want to be a part of this,” I said flatly, cutting her off. “So it’s just me, okay?”
The inside of the truck went completely silent, letting me know that Liz and Ellie had been listening to our conversation.
“You’ll do just fine on your own,” Liz said with a nod. “Bram or no Bram, you’ll do just fine.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I said with a small smile.
“Hell, Mike didn’t help with our boys until they were about ten, and we didn’t even deal with the baby stage. All our boys were older when they came to us,” Ellie grumbled, making us all laugh.
“Dan was pretty good,” Liz murmured, her lips tipping up.
“Shane didn’t help at all until Iris came along,” Katie scoffed. “I mean, I’m not sure how much he helped Rachel, but I don’t think it was much.”
Rachel was Shane’s first wife, and when she died in a car accident a couple years before, Kate had stepped in to help with the kiddos, and the rest was history. They were crazy about each other.
“I’m a little nervous about going to work,” I said, leaning back in my seat.
“I’ll keep him or her,” Liz said immediately. “I mean, if you want me to.”
“Really?”
“Of course! I’m not doing anything but crafting and going places with Ellie. I can take the baby with me.”
“God, what a relief. I wasn’t sure what the hell I was going to do.”
“Well, you wouldn’t have had to worry about it for a while yet—you’ll be on maternity leave for at least six weeks.”
“What?” I asked, sitting straight back up.
“Mike and Dan decided already,” Ellie warned, turning to look at me over the seat. “You’ll get the six weeks—paid. If you want more than that, you’ll have to discuss it with them.”
“Just because you’re not carrying the baby doesn’t mean you shouldn’t get the six weeks, Ani,” Katie said with a roll of her eyes. “Just wait. You’re going to be exhausted. You’ll be up all night and tired all day, and you’ll have this little person begging for attention all the time.”
I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. I couldn’t freaking wait.
* * *
The next two weeks went by in a blur.
Katie, Shane, Henry, and all the kids went back home to California.
The guys finished up the baby’s bedroom, and it looked incredible.
Alex went back to Missouri.
I worked like crazy to get ahead of the game before I took time off.
Life was going pretty well, and there seemed to be this thick layer of anticipation in the air, but when I’d crawl into bed at night, my entire body ached.
I missed Bram more than I’d ever thought possible.
We saw each other at work, of course, and at family dinners, but we barely spoke. Not even to argue. It was as if he’d completely forgotten I existed. I told myself that we were being adults about the whole thing. That this was how adults dealt with their breakups.
It sounded like bullshit every time I said it in my head.
I couldn’t understand what happened. No, that wasn’t true. I understood it. Bram didn’t want kids. He’d never wanted kids.
And now that I was about to have one, he no longer wanted me.
I was a mess of emotions every single minute of every day. I was angry, then sad, then determined, then sad again. I wondered if I was doing the right thing—if I should have told Bram about the baby before I’d announced it to everyone. If it would have even mattered when I told him.
I missed Bram so badly that it made me nauseous.
But I refused to cry about it. Instead, I stomped down the anger and hurt until it festered like a sickness in my stomach.
Having a family was my dream for as long as I could remember. It was something that would be distinctly mine. A family that I could mold and lead in the exact opposite way my mother had. When I’d agreed to the hysterectomy, that dream seemed dead but I hadn’t let myself
mourn it. I’d pushed it deep down into the recesses of my mind and carried on. Just like I did with everything else that I’d lost. Just like I was doing with Bram.
Growing up in the system meant that I rarely had anything that belonged to me alone. Sure, I had a backpack full of stuff that I’d managed to take from home to home until I’d aged out, but the bedrooms I’d lived in were never decorated especially for me. I’d never had my own bike. My clothes had always been hand-me-downs, and my coats almost always came from the coat drives that a mattress store in Portland had every year.
When I grew up, I knew that I would never live like that again. That’s why I’d bought a house instead of renting one. Why I’d paid for my car in cash once I’d saved up enough money. Why I didn’t shop at thrift stores or vintage shops.
I shook my head as I climbed out of my Toyota, stretching my arms up high. I’d been working long hours to make sure everything was ready for the temp to come in, and I was tired as hell. I’d been talking to Bethy almost every day, and it seemed like she’d be having the baby soon, which meant that I slept so light waiting for a phone call that, when I woke up in the morning, I didn’t even feel rested.
My phone rang in my front shirt pocket, and I almost dropped it on the pavement as I scrambled to answer it.
“Hello,” I said, disappointed.
“Sorry, I know you’re waiting for a call,” Trevor said, chuckling. “Just wondering if you wanted some company. I’ll make dinner.”
“If you’re cooking, you can come over anytime,” I answered, smiling as I walked to the front door.
“Okay, good. I’m here.”
I turned as Trevor’s truck pulled in behind me and parked.
“You ass!” I called out, laughing as he climbed down from the cab. “What if I’d said no?”
“You’d never say no to dinner,” he called back with a smug smile.
I unlocked the door while Trev unloaded the groceries, then left it open behind me as I went into the house.
I’d been trying to get things fixed up as much as I could, and the entire place was looking better than it had since I’d bought it. Furniture and a baby swing in the living room, a table and chairs I’d found on clearance in the kitchen, and baby paraphernalia anywhere I could store it.
It finally looked like a home instead of somewhere I crashed when I had nothing else going on.
“Place is looking good,” Trev said, echoing my thoughts as I followed him into the kitchen.
“Thanks. It’s a work in progress.”
“Who knew getting a baby would put a fire under your ass?”
“Who knew I’d ever have a baby?” I chuckled.
“Eh, I knew you would eventually,” he said quietly, emptying ingredients for tacos all over my countertop. “Wasn’t sure how you’d do it, but I knew you would.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise, grabbing a soda out for each of us. “I didn’t.”
Trev nodded, pulling out the ground beef and a frying pan. “Tunes?”
“Sure.” I turned on the stereo on my kitchen counter.
“So, yeah,” Trev said. “I always figured you’d be a mom. Get me a spatula? You love kids, and you’ve always said you wanted a family.”
“Yeah, but after this hysterectomy stuff—”
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
“Ew!” My face twisted. “Why the fuck would anyone skin a cat?”
“Shut up,” Trev chuckled. “Adoption is a good choice.”
I was silent for a few moments. “Did you ever look for your parents?”
Trev glanced at me in surprise. “You worried about that? Wait. Get a knife. You can help me cut shit up while I’m spilling my guts.”
He set me up with a couple tomatoes and a cutting board before going back to browning the meat. “Yes,” he said with a slow nod. “When I was nineteen, I looked them up. I probably shouldn’t have.”
I glanced at him but didn’t say anything.
“My dad was fine. Had a family with his wife and wasn’t interested in anything I had to say.”
“Ouch,” I replied, slicing through a tomato.
“Eh. I got it. I have parents.” He shrugged. “I didn’t need him for anything, more just curious, you know?”
I nodded.
“My mom was dead.”
“Oh, shit.” The knife in my hand slipped, nearly taking off the end of my finger.
“Whoa, careful,” Trev warned. “Yeah, she overdosed when I was fourteen.”
“Do you ever wish—” I stuttered, shaking my head. “I feel like I’m stealing their baby or something.”
“Seriously?” he asked incredulously.
“I don’t know. It’s just—she’s my little sister. Like, what if this isn’t what she wants to do and I become this monster that takes her baby?”
“She called you, right?” he asked, draining a can of olives.
“Yeah.”
“And the dad is out of the picture?”
“No, I think he’s around. But he’s like sixteen.”
“Look, you have to—” He paused as if gathering his thoughts. “She came to you, Ani. She wants you to raise her baby because she’s not ready to do it herself. That doesn’t make you the bad guy. That makes you the lucky guy.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“The baby isn’t going to resent you,” he said gently, draining the hamburger grease into the empty olive can. “Being adopted—shit. At first, yeah, maybe you might get into fights with him. Okay? Like around thirteen when he wants to go shoot paintball but he got a bad grade so he’s grounded. He’s going to say shit that breaks your heart. But underneath all that? You chose him, Ani. He wasn’t an accident or a mistake. You actually chose to take him in and make him yours. He’ll know that.”
“Did you do that stuff?” I asked, my eyes watering.
“I was an asshole,” he said with a snicker. “But probably not as bad as Henry.”
“I’m just nervous.”
“I think that’s probably normal.”
“What if she changes her mind?” I murmured, sticking some tortillas into the microwave.
“Then you won’t be a mom yet. Yet, Ani. Because you will be. If not this baby, then the next one. Or maybe you’ll adopt a five-year-old. Who knows? But you’ll have a family. I’m sure of that.”
“Thanks, Trev.” I smiled at him and grabbed a couple plates out of a cupboard.
Trevor always seemed to get to the heart of the matter, but he didn’t bullshit me. He never had. When I talked to him, I always had the feeling that he was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear, but by the end of the conversation, I’d feel better about whatever we’d talked about.
“So, Bram,” he said as we sat down at my new table.
“Shit, I’m going to need booze for this,” I bitched, standing up to get us a couple beers out of the fridge.
“What happened?” he asked as I sat back down.
“He doesn’t want kids,” I answered simply.
“And?”
“And he dropped me when I said that I was adopting Bethy’s baby.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” I replied with a nod. “He hasn’t talked to me in two weeks.”
“What an idiot.”
I just shrugged my shoulders. It was what it was. Did I want to be with Bram? Yes. Did I want to be with Bram if he had one foot out the door? No way in hell.
“Are you hoping he changes his mind?” Trev asked, watching me closely.
“Do you think he will?” I asked, holding my breath. Maybe I should hold out. Maybe I should—
“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” Trev said gently, making the air rush out of my lungs in a whoosh. “Bram’s always said he didn’t want kids. He’s adamant about it.”
“Yeah,” I said under my breath, fiddling with the taco that was falling apart on my plate.
“I know that Katie waited for Shane,” Trev said
, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “And it worked out for them. But I’m not sure that waiting for Bram to get his head out of his ass will ever give you the results you want.”
“It’s okay to not want kids,” I murmured, not meeting Trevor’s eyes. “Lots of people don’t want kids.”
“True,” Trev said, nodding. “But Bram’s good with kids. He likes kids. His absolute refusal to ever even discuss having some of his own just doesn’t fit. Not that I think he’ll change his mind. I just think there’s probably more going on there than just not being interested in being a parent.”
“Why didn’t you become a shrink?” I asked teasingly. “You seem to notice shit other people wouldn’t think twice about.”
“I like playing with wood,” he teased back, flexing one large bicep.
“Yeah, your wood,” I snickered.
“That too.”
I laughed hard at the smirk on his face.
“You’ll do good, Ani,” he said after my laughter had died down.
“Yeah. I got this,” I replied with a nod.
That night, as I lay in my bed, I put my thoughts of Bram to rest. Trevor was right. He was always right.
For whatever reason, Bram didn’t want kids, and I did. Eventually, it would have come down to that fact, and we would have broken up anyway. I was lucky that I hadn’t been in any deeper with him.
At least that’s what I told myself.
And I kept telling myself that for the next three days as I passed him in our small office every day at work. Our breakup had been inevitable.
I almost believed it.
Chapter 11
Abraham
I was drunk.
Again.
I knew that I should be out doing something. Hell, it would have been less pathetic if I were out at the bar getting drunk, but I wasn’t. I was sitting on my leather couch in front of the TV, drinking beer like it was water.
My phone started ringing somewhere in between the cushions, but I ignored it. I was too lazy to search for the damn thing. I breathed a sigh of annoyance when it stopped ringing and then started up again. I didn’t look away from the TV or set my beer down as I pushed my other hand into the cushions, finally dragging the phone out.
“Hello, Alexander,” I answered.