Page 39 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

JILLIAN

I sigh and rub my temple as I take a few calming breaths.

I didn’t sleep well last night, mostly because my brain was all over the place.

I think I’ve come to terms with the fact I’m pregnant, but then the fear settled in.

Since I’m thirty-seven, I’m considered high risk.

Blair gave me some great information about geriatric pregnancies, and I’ve spent the last two evenings devouring it all.

She encouraged me not to get too worked up, but it’s hard.

Both Blair and Hallie were thirty-six when they conceived, and they both had normal pregnancies and deliveries.

Of course, that still doesn’t completely take away the worry I carry in my heart.

The fact that I’m even here, pregnant, is unbelievable.

Though I’ve always aspired to be a mother, I’ve also given up on that dream.

After my marriage failed spectacularly, I put all aspirations of children on the back burner.

As the years passed, the flames on that burner eventually went out, and I figured I’d spend the rest of my life alone.

Maybe I’d be lucky enough to find someone in my older years, but I didn’t believe parenthood to be a part of that.

At least having my own kids. Perhaps I’d be lucky enough to marry a man with kids from a previous relationship.

I’d be perfectly content being a stepmom.

But this…

I wasn’t prepared for this at all.

And I still don’t know what to do.

The first thing I need to do is tell Kameron. I know it’s not convenient, but I’ve decided to tell him this weekend. I need just a few more days to get my ducks in a row, as I often do when I’m facing big decisions, especially those that are life-changing.

A knock sounds at the back door of the bakery, and even though it could be any one of my friends, my Spidey-sense is tingling and tells me it’s the man I can’t seem to stop thinking about.

Tears fill my eyes as I make my way toward the door.

I take a few calming, deep breaths, preparing to face Kameron.

No amount of preparation could do my head—and my heart—any good.

The moment I open the door and see him standing there, my entire body reacts.

I long for him, crave him like a person wandering the desert craves water.

He looks so beautiful, if you can really call a man beautiful.

But he is. His jaw houses a little more stubble than normal, as if he hasn’t bothered to shave today or maybe even yesterday, and he’s wearing a casual T-shirt untucked and blue jeans.

He looks positively gorgeous, and so far out of my league.

That only causes my heart to bleed even more.

I’ve fallen for my fake boyfriend.

And I’m carrying his baby.

Could this possibly get any more complicated?

“Hey,” he says, offering the hint of a smile.

The compassion and tenderness in his eyes have my own tearing up. I blink hard and look away, stepping back to grant him entrance. “Sorry I’ve been so busy lately,” I say lamely as I close the door.

“It’s all right,” he replies walking over and leaning against the counter. “I’m sorry to just drop in on you like this, but, well, first off, I wanted to see you. To make sure you’re okay.”

My throat is thick and dry and makes it hard to get words past it, but somehow, I manage. “I’m all right,” I confirm.

“Good. I know you haven’t been feeling well lately, and you’ve been working extra.”

I shrug. “It’s not really extra, Kameron. This is part of my job, what I do.”

“I get that,” he quickly adds. “I understand, probably better than most.” He sighs and levels me with a look. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as an uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. “Okay…” I reply, drawing out that one word.

He glances down for a second, as if digging deep for his resolve, and then levels me with a look. It’s intense, full of worry and hesitation. “I was married once.”

Okay. I wasn’t expecting that.

My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

He quickly pushes forward, as if determined to tell me what happened before I can say anything. “I was young and dumb,” he adds, a look of sadness crossing his face. “I was committed, but to the wrong thing.”

I’m still trying to wrap my mind around the fact he was married. And I didn’t hear one chirp about it. That’s very un-Pine Village-like. Usually, marriages and divorces are at the top of the gossip chain, so to find out he was married— and divorced— is a bit of a shock to the system.

He gives me a small smile, as if understanding my question without even vocalizing it. “Honestly, I’m surprised more people don’t know about it. Gabe does, but only because I told him about it after I moved back here. My parents knew, but they promised not to say anything.”

“You didn’t want them to say anything?”

He shrugs. “Not really. I had been living in Chicago for about six years by that point, and I was so submerged in the city lifestyle, I didn’t want my old life to mix with my new one.

In Chicago, no one cared who you were or where you came from.

Most people barely knew their neighbors or coworkers.

” He exhales loudly and shakes his head.

“It’s not that I didn’t want them to tell anyone, but I just preferred to keep it private.

They understood that and respected it. Besides, it’s not like we ever came home.

I was so damn busy with work, starting at the bottom and working my ass off in the industry.

” He levels me with a look filled with anguish and sadness.

“I should have come home more. I’ll always regret that. ”

A single tear slides down my cheek. “You couldn’t have known,” I find myself telling him, taking a step closer and reaching for his hand. It’s part to comfort him, sure, but a piece of that contact is for me too.

“You’re right,” he agrees, his eyes full of emotion.

“I couldn’t have known. But it was more than that.

Lilly—that’s my ex-wife—she didn’t really care to ever want to visit Wisconsin.

She was born and raised in a Chicago suburb, and that was where she always wanted to be.

Especially since I was working so much, she wanted to be near her family and friends.

My parents had come to visit a few times, but it was always a little awkward.

I worked six days a week, ten to twelve hours a day, and Lilly was stuck entertaining them in my absence, and I don’t mean that to be harsh.

She didn’t know them.” I pause and take a breath.

“On top of that, she wanted to start a family. And I didn’t.”

My heart practically falls out of my chest and dies a slow, painful death right here on the old tile floor. “What?” I whisper, the tears threatening to fall in earnest now. I do everything I can to hold them back, but it’s becoming increasingly more difficult the longer he talks.

“We got married when I was twenty-four and by the time I was twenty-six, she was pushing hard for a baby. I was working so fucking much, barely having time to sleep. I just couldn’t imagine bringing a baby into the relationship, at least at that point.

I barely saw her. The last thing I wanted was to never see my child too. ”

I don’t know when I truly started to cry, but his words—this realization—is like a dagger to my already bleeding heart.

I empathize with his ex-wife, Lilly, because not that long ago, I was that woman.

I was married, anxiously planning for a future that would never come.

At least I found out after only nine months of marriage.

“Anyway, I told her I wanted to wait, and she didn’t want to. Just before our fourth anniversary, she left. That was it. Our marriage was over. Two years later, my parents were killed in a car accident, and I moved back home. You know the rest.”

I close my eyes, trying to figure out my next move. I still have to tell him about the baby, even if that’s not what he wants. He has a right to know. But I’m suddenly prepared to take these next steps alone, and I’ll do it with my head held high.

“Jilly,” he whispers, pulling me into his arms. That single act makes me cry even harder.

My emotions are all over the place. Last night, I cried at a commercial for toilet paper.

I know it’s the onslaught of pregnancy hormones but come on.

Something has to give, because all I want to do is cry.

And then I get nauseous because I’m crying and crying because I’m nauseous.

And here we are, as women, eager and ready to go through this time and time again.

Thank God it’s a short-lived issue, because I’m not sure I could deal with these emotions and the threat of vomiting forever.

The worst thing he can do is pull me into his arms. They’re strong and warm and so perfect, and all I want to do is stay there, surrounded by his scent and his strength, forever.

But no, the big stupid idiot had to go and prove he’s just like every other man who makes a promise to a woman and then breaks it.

I push myself off this chest at the same time I pull back. I can tell he doesn’t want to let me go, but he does. “What’s wrong?” he asks, completely beside himself that I’m so upset.

The care and worry in his question only make me cry that much more.

My shoulders are shaking, and I can tell by the look on his face he has no idea what to do. Well, neither do I, buddy.

“I can’t do this,” I insist, hastily wiping tears from my face.

“What?” he asks, his confusion obvious.

“ This!” I declare as my shoulders drop, and I start to cry again.