Page 35 of Bringing Home the Bacon
“Did you ever think that maybe I’m happy about this baby?!” I yell.
The room goes silent.
Wow.
Did I really just say that?
I take a seat at the kitchen table, and for the first time since I got the news, I place my hands on my belly. It’s hard to believe that just yesterday I attributed the slight roundness I’m feeling now to regular weight gain. It all feels so obvious now that I know what’s really going on. I’m going to have a baby.
Gran approaches and places a soft, warm hand on my back. “Are you, sweetheart? You’re happy?” She massages my shoulders like she used to after my parents died when I was carrying way too much sadness and stress for a kid so small.
I allow myself to lean into her.
“Having a baby is the last thing I planned or expected at this moment in my life… but, yeah.” I look up at her and smile. “I think I’m happy.”
“Then I am too, sweetheart.” Gran leans forward and kisses the top of my head. “Whatever you need, we’re here to support you.”
“Or not support you as the case may be,” Sam huffs, his feelings clearly hurt.
“Sam-Dan.” I use my old nickname for him, so he knows we’re cool. “I absolutely welcome my brothers’ support. What I don’t need is you guys running down to New York City to attack my…” I hesitate. “My, um?—”
“I believe the term you are looking for is ‘baby daddy,’” Ethan says.
“Yeah, I will not be calling him that.” I laugh.
“To be clear,” Alex says. “We had no intention of physically attacking him. The plan was just a good old-fashioned verbal assault.”
“Good to know,” I say. “But I have it from here.”
“So?” Sam says. “What’s your plan?”
“I’m going to see him myself.”
Chapter 12
Bacon
Damn, it’s cold.
I wrap my coat around me tighter and turn onto my block, my mind spinning a mile a minute.
It’s the day after my big win. I just met with the show producers about the next steps for my new restaurant. A fully-funded restaurant. I should be happy. The little kid I used to be could never have imagined an opportunity this massive landing in his lap. Everywhere that little kid looked he saw people working their tails off and only barely scraping by. When struggle is all you ever see, you don’t let yourself dream of more.
But here I am now, the Season One winner of Yes, Chef! with more possibility in my pocket than I know what to do with.
So yeah, I should be happy.
But I can’t stop thinking about her.
And that pisses me the hell off.
When I reach my building, the last person I expect to be shivering on my stoop is doing exactly that. The moment I see her, I’m transported back in time and flooded with memories. Her bright blue eyes sparkling at me in the studio audience when she held up her sign. Her gorgeous smile when she spotted my bookshelf. The way her breathy sighs skated across my skin when I was inside her.
This is not a woman to fantasize about.
This is the woman who lied to me and left me.
She rises to her feet when she sees me. “Congratulations on your win,” she says after an awkward silence. She sounds sad and not at all like the dynamic woman I spent the night with all those months ago. “Can we talk?” she asks.
