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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Trent has already left for work, and Amir has just gone to school when the bleeding starts. Even though I didn't really expect to get pregnant the first month, I can't help the tears that form.
Rather than having to tell Trent in person, I send him a not pregnant text.
It takes a while, probably because the shop has been busier since Maggie, Grady, Mia, and Tyler stepped up for him on socials, but he replies.
Are you home at lunch? Or do you have some showing or closings to do?
I'm here.
I don't add that I don't feel like talking to anyone or doing anything. Instead, because everything I could do can be put off until later or maybe even tomorrow, I crawl back into bed.
I wake to a knock on my bedroom door, and when I call for them to come in, Trent pushes it open gently.
"Came to check in on my favorite Emily," he says.
"Aren't I the only Emily you know?"
"I could know thousands and you'd still be at the top of the pile. On a scale of one to ten, how upset are you?" He steps into the room, and he's got one hand behind his back.
"Like a five?" I say, though it's probably more like a seven. Though I'd never say it out loud, I'm worried that the longer Trent and I do this, the harder it'll be to re-establish normalcy. Already this new closeness feels normal, and I don't think it should.
"I thought it might be more like an eight, so I sent my mom to buy cookies from Kathy's Café," he says, bringing the box around. "They're the double chocolate ones that you love."
"Trent!" I say, tears forming in my eyes. "It is more like an eight. God, you bought me cookies?" I hold out my hand, and he approaches the bed, opening the box.
After I take one, he plucks one out and perches on the edge of the bed, chewing with what feels like thoughtfulness.
"Redouble the efforts this month?" he suggests.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"The internet has a lot of advice," he says, as though that explains what he means.
"And?"
"Sixteen hours might be too narrow of a window."
"What does the internet suggest?" Though I'm sure I already know.
"Try to prime the area before ovulation." He squints at me when he says it like he thinks I'll hate the idea.
"Have sex the day before I think I'll ovulate."
"And then hit it hard."
"Oh, my god. Your phrasing."
"You're the one who thinks we need to keep it all clinical."
