“I’m not rational right now.”
“That’s clear, sweetie. But you’ve got to get yourself together and make a plan.”
I huffed, wiping under my eyes. I could only imagine how badly my mascara had run. “Easy for you to say. You’ve done this three times.”
“Yes. And every time, it’s hard and scary and beautiful and more than a little gross. But you’ve got this. Things will work out.”
“I don’t want him to be part of my life forever.”
Celine pinned me with her mom glare, and I felt instantly ashamed.
“Chloe, your entire focus from now on is the well-being of this child,” she said calmly. “And you have roughly nine months to work through whatever has gone down between the two of you. But you will do it. Because this child needs a father.”
Her tone was uncharacteristically firm. Clearly, I’d struck a nerve.
“Are you okay?” I asked. It was a stupid question, but I wasn’t sure how else to bring this up.
“My kids are thriving,” she said, firm, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s all that matters.”
“I’m here for you,” I said. “If you want.”
She held up a hand. “Thank you. But I really can’t talk about my marriage right now. Especially sitting on your bathroom floor, surrounded by used pregnancy tests.”
I wanted to say more. To tell her that I’d support her no matter what. To tell her there was no reason to stay in a loveless marriage with someone who made her feel small. But it wasn’t my battle to fight, and until she told me in her own words, there wasn’t anything I could do.
“And while I’m not going to get into my personal life at the moment, just know there are worse things than an involved, responsible, present father.”
That hurt. And it hurt even more thinking that my nieces and nephew may not have that in their lives.
And while, on paper, Gus may seem like a stand-up guy, I knew better.
“But what if he leaves? What if he decides this isn’t for him?” I said, letting the old hurt rise to the surface.
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself,” she said, smoothing my hair. “Let’s focus on what’s critical here. Mainly the question of why you had a condomless sex-a-thon with your ex, whom you claim to hate and for whom you devised an elaborate revenge forestry scheme.”
“It was hate sex. Nothing more,” I corrected.
“Nah.” She shook her head. “It’s only hate sex if you do it once. If you do it multiple times, then deep down, you like each other. It’s canon.”
My stomach twisted, the reaction bringing with it a wave of nausea. “You act like you’re an authority on the subject.”
“Eh.” She shrugged. “Enemies to lovers is an elite trope. I’m a connoisseur.”
“You are not helping right now. This isn’t one of your spicy books.”
Celine got up and held out a hand to me. “Get up. We’re celebrating.”
With a sniffle, I took it and let her pull me to my feet. “This is a mess.”
“News flash, having a child is the messiest thing, physically and emotionally, you will ever do. Get used to it.”
She led me downstairs and into the kitchen, where she leaned out the sliding door to wave to her kids, who were currently burying Karl in the sand. The beach area was tiny, but the kids loved it, and they would likely be busy for a while.
Celine opened the fridge and started pulling things out. “Sit down,” she ordered. “I’m going to feed you. The first rule of pregnancy is hunger makes you insane and irrational, so you gotta eat.”
When I made no move to sit, she waved a hand at me.
“Stop making that face. And stop overthinking and obsessing. This is unexpected. But it’s also fucking great.”
“Yes,” I said with a slow nod.
“So let’s skip the angst and be happy. There’s a baby in there.” She pointed at my stomach with a spatula. “And you’re going to be an incredible mother.”
“But—”
“Nope,” she bit out, cutting me off. “Not having it. There’s a reason you came back here, and there’s a reason you bought this house. Don’t you see it? This was meant to be.”
“Hardly,” I huffed, my stomach dipping. “What am I going to do? I live in Seattle, and my work takes me around the world. Now I’ve got an unreliable baby daddy in the mix.”
“Unreliable? I think you’re wrong there. He’s responsible and well-respected. And he’s probably grown up a lot in the past twenty years.”
I scoffed. God, why couldn’t Celine just hate the man like I did? Her optimism was tiresome.
“I suspect he might be one of the good ones. Plus, you won’t be complaining when the morning sickness passes.”
“What do you mean?”
“In the second trimester, you’re gonna get super horny. You won’t be complaining about him being around then. You’ll more likely be dry-humping that lumberjack’s leg like a feral dog.”
