Page 69 of Size King

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Mason

I’m sitting in my recliner by the roaring fire in my open fireplace, soaking up all the warmth I can against the brisk, bitter cold.

There is snow, so driving is going to be a major pain in the ass. It’s a Monday in mid-January, which means it will likely be slow for my business. I once again choose to work from the “office,” allowing my employees to make some money, and allowing myself to relax away from the freezing temperatures. As far as snow days go, I don’t expect it to be a hellish nightmare.

What I don’t expect is to receive company. I seldom ever hear a knock on my door unsolicited, so whenever I do, it’s initially unnerving until I get a look at the person from a window. I can’t get a good look at my mystery knocker from the windows nearest to the front door, so I resort to the peephole.

I am shocked to discover that my visitor is none other than Jillian, the one that got away. She looks nervous, flustered, and freezing.

I open the door and usher her inside immediately. I take her outer layers from her, hanging them up by the door.

“Hi, Jillian!” I say with amusement. “Were you just in the neighborhood?”

She laughs, rubbing her palms together hoping to start a fire. “Hi, Mason.”

“Um, what are you doing here?” I ask.

“We need to talk,” she says sternly. “I would have called or emailed or something, but I feel like you deserve to have this conversation with me in person.”

I have no idea what she has to tell me, and I would never have predicted my day to include Jillian being at my house. I’ve imagined her being there, but I haven’t expected it to come true.

At first, I suspect it has something to do with her leaving the beach house in the middle of the night without saying goodbye. I quickly disregard that theory the longer I see the seriousness etched on her beautiful face.

“How did you find out where I lived?” I ask. “I’m a private guy with little social media presence. How did you pull it off? My own friends can’t find my house after I’ve given them two sets of directions.”

“I found your full name through Google,” she answers. “I remembered some of the stuff you mentioned about this town. I asked around a few places, and some nice young woman was kind enough to send me up here. Full disclosure—you aren’t the first house I tried. There was some trial and error.”

“Well, you made it,” I say. “Now, we can have our personal conversation.”

I am visibly uncomfortable. I had been left during the night without a farewell, and now, here she is blindsiding me. Had it not been for the brisk winds and freezing temperatures, I might have considered not answering the door at all. I am hesitant to let her stay for long because I get the sense that she might be a girl into games. Games or not, she looks damn good which made me glad I did answer the door and that I let her in.

I do wish that I had an inkling of what to expect from my surprise guest.

“Thanks for letting me in,” says Jillian. “First off, I’m going to be sort of jumping all over the place, so try to keep up, all right?”

“I’ll do my best,” I promise.

“I want you to understand that I’m not here for money,” she says. “I’m not here for anything, in fact. I’m not pulling any tricks. I’m not lying to you in the slightest, but I am hitting you with some major revelations. Just so you know.”

As she explains, it slowly dawns on me. It’s clicking, and my slow brain is finally operating again, and this time, it’s in overdrive.

“I wanted to tell you the truth because it’s the right thing to do,” says Jillian. “I’ve only known it since Saturday, so I haven’t known about it for long. I made sure that the tests were coming back correct.”

“Justplease,” I beg. “What is it, Jillian?”

“I’m pregnant.”

I know it’s coming, but it’s still like getting hit by a boulder. I don’t even make it to the couch or my recliner—I sit on the floor, likely making her think I am going insane. I have to make sure to keep breathing evenly.

“Okay,” I pant. “So, you’re—holy shit.”

She looks guilty as she watches me sit and rock back and forth like a mental patient. I can’t stop shaking my head, attempting to process what I’ve just heard.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” I say.

“I guess since I freaked out, it’s okay that you do, too,” she says.