Page 112 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
“I’m pregnant,” she whispered between sobs.
Eff.
Well, that was unexpected.
Now her reaction was making more sense. The sobbing and how she wouldn’t meet my eyes when she had arrived. This wasn’t just about the breakup. She was dealing with some major problems.
“You’re positive?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “What am I going to do? How am I going to tell him? I’m on birth control. I get the shot religiously every three months. I didn’t plan on this. What if he accuses me of doing this on purpose?”
“He’s a doctor, Maisy. He’ll know that birth control doesn’t always work,” I said.
“What about my family? They’re going to be so disappointed in me. I’m only twenty-four. They had plans for me. I had plans for me. Now they’re ruined.”
I pulled her hands into mine and looked into her sad eyes. Not too long ago, I had been in her place, so I offered her the best advice I could.
“One day at a time. That’s all you can do. You might be right and your family might be disappointed, but it won’t last forever. They’ll come around and be there to support you. And your plans will change but they don’t have to end. You just have to make a few adjustments,” I said.
“Thanks, Gigi.”
“Anytime, sweetie.”
“I don’t know how to tell Everett,” she said.
“The sooner the better. But if I could make one recommendation, do it in private. Telling Rowen’s father at a restaurant didn’t work out so hot for me.”
“Okay,” she said.
And she would be okay. One day she would realize this wasn’t the end of her life. It was just the start of a different one.
“That machine’s going in the garbage,” Jess said as he stomped into the kitchen.
It was Friday and New Year’s Eve. We were hosting a special farmhouse sleepover for Bryant’s daughter and three of Rowen’s friends from Quail Hollow. At the moment, five little girls, all six years old or younger, were upstairs in Rowen’s room singing Disney princess anthems on her karaoke machine.
As I had promised while in the hospital after the barn incident, I’d bought Roe the singing machine. It came as no surprise that she was thrilled to have it. She had used it a few times but then stowed it away in her closet. I guess it wasn’t much fun to sing karaoke by yourself. And since it had been put away, Jess hadn’t heard it yet.
Tonight, the girls had been using it continuously for the last two and a half hours and he’d heard enough.
I was in the kitchen, making the girls hot chocolate with marshmallows and some snacks. It was well past their normal bedtimes but what good were sleepovers if you had to go to bed on time?
After cocoa and munchies, the girls were going to play beauty parlor in the dining room. I’d set out a pile of eye shadows and glitter strings for their hair.
“If you throw the karaoke machine away,
Rowen might insist you move into the garage,” I told Jess.
“Not a problem. There isn’t fucking karaoke out there.”
“Just let me get these snacks done and I’ll bring them down here, okay? No more singing,” I said.
“Fine.” He went to the fridge and pulled out a beer.
My eyes bugged out as his throat swallowed the whole bottle in four enormous gulps. When that bottle was emptied, he tossed it in the trash and grabbed another. This time it only took three swallows to drain it dry.
“Uh . . . are you okay?” I asked.
He let out a huge belch. It was loud and long. I’d never heard him do that before so my eyes got even bigger and my jaw fell open.
