“Given how few single men there are in Bluebell, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out,” Wren tosses in.
I nibble my bottom lip as heat rises to my cheeks. That’s when I get the distinct feeling I’m being watched. When I look up, Birdie is still standing beside the couch, staring at me.
Her eyes suddenly widen as a light bulb has just gone off in her head. “Holy shit. Heath’s the dad, isn’t he?”
“No…” I mutter, frowning when she levels me with a pointed look. “All right, fine. Yeah, it’s him.”
I shouldn’t be surprised she figured it out so quickly. Fewer than fifty people attended the wedding, and now that I think about it, I didn’t really talk to any other single guys that night.
“Hold on, that means I’m going to be an aunt!” Briar blurts out, practically bouncing in her seat, before her expression quickly turns serious. “Wait… is this what you want? You’re our top priority, and we’ll support you no matter how you choose to move forward.”
Birdie comes to sit on my other side, leaning her head against my shoulder. “Yeah, we’re here for whatever you need.”
“You’re not alone in this, Charlie. Not by a long shot,” Wren pipes up from Briar’s phone.
Well, that went better than expected.
“Thanks, guys, I really appreciate it.” I give them all a warm smile, placing my hands over my stomach. “All future plans might be on hold for the next eighteen years, but I’m having this baby.”
Even with all the obstacles in front of me, no decision has felt easier. Not when I can see how loved this little peanut is already, and how quickly I’ve settled into the idea of being a mom—as intimidating as it sounds.
“Have you told Heath?” Briar asks hesitantly.
“I told him a couple of hours ago,” I answer, briefly closing my eyes at the memory.
The sight of him dropping to his knees and taking my hands in his, looking at me like I was his whole world, plays on a loop in my head. It might have been an illusion, but it was a beautiful one nonetheless.
I admit a small part of me can’t help but wonder if I hadn’t left the morning after our one-night stand, would things have been different. It could have turned into a real proposal down the line.
Briar huffs, pushing up from the couch before dropping down. “Then why isn’t he here? He better not have told you he doesn’t want to be involved. If he did, I’d gladly knock some sense into him.”
“I’ll go with you,” Birdie says enthusiastically.
I shake my head. “There’s no need for that. He was uncharacteristically nice about the whole thing. Honestly, it was a little unsettling having him ask how he could help instead of bickering with me for once.”
Okay, so that might not be the whole truth. There was our heated discussion after I rejected his proposal, but I’m keepingthat part of our conversation under wraps for now. I have a feeling the girls would only encourage his harebrained solution if they knew about it.
Briar rolls her eyes. “Only you would think Heath being nice was suspicious behavior.”
“Looks like their mutual aversion is still going strong,” Wren pipes up. “At least on Charlie’s side.”
I let out a half-hearted laugh as I look away, unable to muster anything close to a normal response.
Do I still have an aversion to Heath? Let’s run with that and ignore the war raging in my head—one part of me dead set on keeping him at arm’s length, the other a shameless little hussy whispering how addictive his hands felt against my skin and his mouth had claimed every sensitive spot like he owned me.
I may be undecided on what comes next where he’s concerned, but if today taught me anything, it’s that my friends will always show up for me, no matter what mess I’ve gotten myself into. That knowledge alone makes this whole situation a lot more bearable.
What was supposed to be a carefree night spent bingeingSchitt’s Creekhas turned into me lying on the living room floor with a heartbreaking K-drama playing in the background.
I’m surrounded by a pile of overdue bills I’ve been avoiding, spiraling as I try to figure out how I’m supposed to take care of a kid when my own life is a mess. The only saving grace is the ice cream I found buried in the back of my freezer. I scoop another giant heap onto my spoon and take a bite, savoring the sweet mix of cherries and dark chocolate.
My phone chimes, interrupting my sugar-induced breakdown with another notification from my CGM that my glucose is still rising.
“Yeah, yeah.” I pull up my app and estimate a correction dose to stay ahead of the spike that’s already climbing higher than I can ignore. “God forbid a girl wants to drown her feelings in a pint of ice cream without her blood sugar going off the rails,” I mutter.
By nature, I’m a go-with-the-flow kind of person, figuring things out along the way. But my diabetes has forced me into a life built on strict routines and structure, which runs against my every instinct. For once, it would be nice to be spontaneous without turning every treat into a complicated math problem or a carefully timed operation with severe consequences if disregarded.
My phone pings again, this time with an incoming message.