As a single mom in a small town, there's only one thing I want. Another baby. When all the roads to getting what I want lead to dead ends, I turn to one of my best friends for help.
In my mind, Trent Castillo is the perfect baby daddy. He has good g...
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I trudge through the snow to Emily's front door, and I grab the shovel off her porch, scooping up the snow and throwing it to the side, creating a path. After I've cleared a decent walkway, I knock on the door.
It's New Year's Eve, and I'm supposed to be back in Utica in an hour to meet my date at a bar downtown for some big bash. With this weather, I should probably be leaving now to stand a chance of getting there on time, but after helping Grady with an electrical issue with his truck, I figured I'd check on Em before heading back out of town.
I knock again and stomp my feet against the cold. When she opens the door, the wind swirls tendrils of her hair not caught in her ponytail around her shoulders. Her brown eyes are alight with surprise.
"Trent! I thought you had somewhere to be tonight?"
"I gotta head out in a minute, but I just wanted to make sure everything's good at your place? There's a storm coming."
Her two-story house is one of the older ones in town and prone to all sorts of finnicky issues that crop up out of nowhere.
"Yeah, everything's fine," she says, glancing behind her.
Then I hear the incessant beep.
"Em," I say, stepping around her into the house. "It'll take me two seconds to change those batteries."
"Oh, you don't need to," she says, rushing to the kitchen table in the middle of the room and gathering some papers. "I was just in the zone, and I was ignoring it. But I can get to it."
I toe out of my boots and go to where I stashed batteries last time I was here and one of her smoke detectors started acting up. "Just because Amir isn't here doesn't mean you can neglect your own safety."
"It just started, I swear."
"Uh huh," I say, and I go to the closet to get out the little step stool. "You working on a real estate deal?" I ask, nodding at the spreadsheets and checklists she's got beside her computer. She has a knack for becoming laser focused and ignoring everything else around her. I can be the same way when I'm troubleshooting a car, so I'm not one to give her shit for it.
Her chest flushes, and the color rises into her cheeks. I cock my head, curious.
"Please tell me you're not making spreadsheets and checklists about one of those app dates you went on."
I grab the screwdriver I leave handy in the same closet and climb the small ladder to unscrew the smoke detector while I wait for her to answer. When she doesn't, I glance at her over my shoulder. "What are you up to, Em?"
"It's private," she says, tugging down her sweater and hiding her hands in the sleeves.
"O-kay," I say, drawing out the word. I can count on one finger—this one—the number of times Em has outright refused to tell me something.
