Page 42 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

JILLIAN

R yan just gapes at me, unmoving and silent for several seconds.

“So…wait. You’re telling me you and Kameron were fake dating so he could get the building next to his restaurant, you’re pregnant, and you fell in love with him?

” Her wide eyes stare back at me as she asks, “What did you get out of the deal?”

Instantly, my own eyes drop to my still-flat stomach, which makes her giggle.

“Well, besides that.” Leaning forward she whispers, “It was good sex, right? Kameron just looks like the type of guy who knows his way around a kitchen, if you know what I mean.”

I snort a giggle and shake my head. “Stop.”

“No, you stop. I’m being serious. At least if there’s a possibility of you having to parent this baby alone, it better have been good sex. Not that terrible grunting and slamming into you like they’re jackhammering the sidewalk with one of those little plastic hammers.”

My eyes widen to the point of pain before I burst into fits of laughter. “Oh my God,” I giggle, letting the sound wash over me.

“True story. My ex. He might have been a movie star, but his bedroom skills were seriously lacking. You know what I’m talking about, right?

Those little plastic tools that kids play with?

It was like being pounded with one of those for two minutes, while sweat dripped on you.

Seriously, it wasn’t that great. Now, Marcus, I tell you, does not have one of those little plastic baby hammers.

I’m talking…” She holds up her hands, indicating Marcus’s… hammer…is much bigger than her ex’s.

Of course, I blush.

“Anyway, we’re not here to talk about Marcus. We’re here to discuss you and Kameron.” She exhales, watching me intently. “So, when are you going to tell him?”

I close my eyes, recalling the words he said about not being ready to have a baby with his ex-wife. “I was planning on telling him this weekend.”

“You might just want to rip off the Band-Aid, especially after he told you about his ex-wife. But don’t do it for him, do it for you,” she says, leaning against the back cushion on my couch and watching me closely.

“I know.”

“Now that you’ve had a couple of days to absorb the news and figure out your next step, it’ll be a huge weight off your shoulders when you tell him. Plus, you’ll know whether or not he’s going to be a part of the baby’s life.”

A boulder sits in my stomach, disguised as the dinner I just consumed. While it went down easily—she brought grilled cheese and homemade tomato soup—I worry it may make a reappearance at some point. Ever since we started talking about the hard stuff, the queasiness has slowly increased.

Tears fill my eyes as I look up at my friend.

I haven’t known her long, but it’s as if she’s been part of our lives for years, when in fact I’ve only known her four months.

It doesn’t matter there’s an age gap either.

Despite being more than a decade older than her, I still cherish her friendship and find value and comfort in our talks.

“What if he doesn’t want to?” I whisper, already knowing the answer to my own question but needing to hear someone else say it.

“Then fuck him!” she bellows, catching me by surprise.

“No, seriously. You’re awesome, Jillian, and if he can’t see that, then screw him.

And if he doesn’t want to be a part of your child’s life either?

Then screw him again. But not literally.

That’s what got you into this mess to begin with,” she says, making me giggle once more.

“That’s true.” I take a deep, calming breath. “I just…I really like him, Ryan. Like more than like him like him.”

“I know you do, and the thing is, I’m pretty certain he likes you likes you too.”

I start to shake my head and reach for the bottle of ginger ale she brought with my meal. “That’s fake.”

“No,” she quickly insists. “No way. You can’t fake that kind of emotion, Jillian. Anyone who saw you together could see it. Hell, probably feel it.”

I close my eyes, trying to keep my mind from conjuring up every time he’d touch me in public, but what I see isn’t what I expect.

Sure, I know all the instances where he’d make a big public show of affection when eyes were on us, but I can’t help but remember all the little things.

The time he held my hand under the table where no one could see, or when he’d show up at the bakery and help me work, even after closing.

That wasn’t for show or for anyone’s eyes.

What does that mean?

Could what Ryan is saying be accurate?

I don’t want my heart to feel hope, because what if we’re wrong?

What if he’s just that good of an actor?

I mean, let’s be honest, he went to pretty desperate lengths to be able to purchase the building by securing a fake girlfriend.

I’m certain he would do whatever necessary to ensure the ink is signed on the paper.

Not that I blame him. I completely understand having a dream and doing whatever’s needed to get it.

My hand instantly moves to my stomach, as if to protect the baby inside.

My dream .

But this isn’t how I wanted to get it.

I always envisioned being married and having a cute little house with a garden in the backyard and a tire swing hanging from a big oak tree.

Of course, a big piece of that puzzle is the fact I would be in love with my husband, the man I would share those dreams with.

Sure, I might have really— really— strong feelings for Kameron, but that doesn’t mean he feels the same.

In fact, just about two hours ago, he confessed a big piece of his past with me, including the fact he didn’t want kids.

At least he wasn’t ready at that point. But now?

I guess I’m going to find out, right?

“You don’t have to figure it all out today, Jillian. I don’t know Kameron well, but from what I’ve seen, he’s compassionate and trustworthy, and I truly believe his reaction will surprise you. I just can’t picture him not wanting to be part of this baby’s life.”

Up until a couple of hours ago, I would have said the same, but right now, I’m not so sure. “We’ll see,” I mutter, leaning back against the couch and closing my eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay. Only slightly queasy. I’m just hoping to get a decent night’s sleep,” I tell her, even though my heart tells me that won’t happen. I’ll be replaying the conversation from earlier, dissecting every detail and wondering what I could have said or done differently.

Ryan stands up and stretches. “I should get out of your hair so you can relax and get ready for bed.”

I nod, even though I’ve enjoyed her visit. Despite the fact we were talking about some pretty heavy stuff, it was comfortable and welcomed. She’s a good friend, and I’m so glad she and Marcus are together, and she moved to Pine Village. “Thank you for dinner,” I say, pulling her into a hug.

“Anytime,” she insists and meets my gaze. “I’m serious. I can bring soup or vitamins or whatever you need. Just call me.”

My eyes fill with tears as another wave of extreme hormones crashes into me. “I will.”

“Good.”

Before she can head toward my front door, there’s a loud, insistent knock on the other side.

Turning her attention to me, she asks, “Are you expecting someone?”

“No,” I say, trying to ignore the way my heart skips a beat with hope and anticipation.

I take a few steps, but Ryan beats me to it. She pulls open the door, and even though her face remains neutral, her lips tick up in a slight smile. “Hi, Kameron.”

“Hey, Ryan,” he replies, his voice sounding anxious and uncertain.

One step closer brings him into view through the doorway. He’s still wearing the same jeans and T-shirt he was wearing earlier, and his hair is even more messy than before. His blue eyes are a bit wild as they settle on me, but immediately they relax. “Hey,” he says softly. “Can we talk?”

I glance at Ryan, who is clearly waiting for me to take the lead. She’s prepared to leave, stay, or possibly throw down with Kameron if I so much as give her an indication. I can’t help but smile.

That’s a friend.

“I’ll be all right,” I tell her. “Thank you for coming over and hanging out with me.” I walk over and give her another hug. “And for dinner.”

She squeezes extra hard as she whispers, “Just tell him, and let me know how it goes, okay? And if I need to kill him, just say the word.”

I snort a laugh, knowing she’s kidding. Or at least I hope she’s kidding.

“Be good to her, Kameron, or you’ll answer to me,” Ryan announces before walking past him and exiting my house.

The polite thing to do would be to make sure she gets to her SUV, but my eyes are glued to the man at my door. “Can I come in?” he asks hesitantly, waiting for me to nod.

Kameron steps inside and closes the door behind him when I give the green light.

The moment he’s standing in front of me, all I can think about is the last time he was here.

Was that really the last time he was at my house?

We’ve spent a lot of time at his place, the restaurant, and the bakery, but we rarely come here.

It feels like both a lifetime ago and mere days since he showed up on my doorstep and asked me to be his fake girlfriend.

“Can we sit?” he asks.

“Sure,” I reply, leading the way to my couch. I take a seat on the same side I recently vacated, while he sits on the opposite side where Ryan was. The moment his ass hits the seat, he shifts and moves closer.

I catch his scent in the air. His masculine, fresh soap mixed with the musk of his bodywash or deodorant.

It’s my favorite smell in the whole world, and I didn’t realize it until right now.

I used to adore the scent of freshly baked bread, hydrangeas, or even vanilla and sugar, but now?

All I want is to inhale Kameron all day, every day.

Weirdo…

“I have something to tell you.”