Page 222 of The Baby Bargain
The shrug and smile does nothing to convince them. "None of your business" only encourages questions. "It's just a new vibrator" buys me a moment ofew, my sister has a vibrator, but it rebounds into a billion inquiries about my sex life.
I want to tell them.
It's bursting out of me. The words climb up my throat, claw at my lips, beg me to spill.
I'm pregnant. That's why I'm so happy. Because I'm having a baby.
But I keep my mouth shut. Not until the second trimester. Not until I'm sure it's happening.
At the very least, I need to figure out what to say about me and Chase.
He's still just Uncle Chase.
Usually, that would weigh on me. Usually, I'd spin in circles asking myself if he'll ever love me, if he'll ever be mine, if I'll be able to offer Charlotte a real family.
But I'm too fucking happy for that.
I beam as I help with dinner, as I shrug off wine (more questions), as I dine on marshmallow covered sweet potatoes.
On the drive to Chase's and the walk to his door and the knock—
I beam.
Then his Mom answers the door and all that confusion crawls back into my throat.
* * *
"Ariel, right."Her smile is soft. Weak. "It's nice to meet you." She extends her hand.
I shake. Mrs. Keating is exactly as Chase described her. A thin woman with subtle makeup, designer garments, and very expensive highlights.
She's wearing those shoes, the expensive ones with the red soles. They're fancy. One of my professors gushes over them.
I don't get it. The red soles look ridiculous. Why would anyone want to walk around with fire-engine red on their shoes?
Maybe it's my distaste for the color red and all the stupid questions about my hair.
I mean, red isn't so bad when it's a dress Chase is stripping off my shoulders.
Ahem. I'm meeting my baby's grandma. I mean… if he's just Uncle Chase, I guess she's just great aunt… whatever her first name is.
"You too, Mrs. Keating." I release her hand.
She smiles and motionscome in. "Please, it's Melody."
"Right. Melody." That's a nice name. So sweet and innocent and not at all what I see in my head—a witch holding Chase's heart. She's the first person who broke him.
My anger usually fixes on Grace. But Melody—
How can someone who hurt him so badly smile so kindly?
I follow her through the huge, clean foyer, into the equally pristine dining room.
Chase is sitting at the sleek wood table, one leg folded over the other, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. A mug on a coaster. An actual coaster.
His gaze flits from his brothers—he's actually talking to Hunter—to me. "Hey, princess."
My cheeks flush. I love that nickname. But there are too many dirty associations. It sends me straight back to his low growlcome for me, princess.
