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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We signed all the paperwork at the bank the last week of March for Mullen Mechanics, and Trent moved all of his stuff into storage at the shop and my spare room the same week.
Bruce agreed to stay on for April to help Trent get a handle on the flow of customers, payroll, and all the bits and pieces it takes to run his own business. Trent has been working such long hours that, coupled with my usual increase in real estate business in the spring, means we've hardly seen each other.
On the wall in the kitchen, I've put a calendar where I've been tracking my cycle. Even that conversation wasn't as awkward as I expected as I took Trent through January, February, and March. I'd started tracking in the new year in case I decided to go with a donor and needed the information for the doctor, and then once Trent and I had our agreement, I kept doing it, so I'd have a sense of what days were likely to be important.
But now that we're here—the important days—I'm freaking out a little. It's mid-week, but I asked my mom to take Amir overnight, get him to school in the morning. I used late night house showings as the reason, which has happened before in the spring when the market is hot. But I was sure she'd see right through my lie, ask me why I wasn't being honest.
I'm tempted to text Trent, but he's been so focused on the shop that I'm not even sure if he's checked the calendar, if he realized that the important days were here. What would I even say in my text? Please leave work to come home and fuck me?
Just the thought of sending that text makes my pulse do triple time and my stomach seize with nerves. There's no way I could type those words or say them out loud.
I haven't slept with anyone since Omar, and while I know the chemistry is there between Trent and I based on those two kisses, part of me is a little concerned I won't actually be able to go through with it. I'll get too in my head, and it won't feel right. That even initiating will be awkward or uncomfortable.
That maybe this month will pass us by because I won't be able to say anything if he comes home too late and hasn't checked the calendar.
But then, when my worrying is about to hit fever pitch, he comes in the door carrying a grocery bag and some flowers. He hands me the flowers, kisses me on the cheek, and asks what listing I'm trying to price.
I'm at my computer, other listings strewn around me on the kitchen table. I have an office upstairs to work from home, and another actual office that I use during the daytime when I meet client, but I haven't used the one in the house since Amir was a baby. It's easier to be in the kitchen, which is where Amir frequently asks for help with things when he's home.
"It's an older, run down home, but in the good part of town," I say. "You bought me flowers?"
"Saw them, thought of you. Call it an impulse purchase." He glances at me over his shoulder while he unpacks groceries.
