Page 117 of Mom Ball

“That’s a good question. I need to think and pray a while. This is going to be big news when it breaks, and change Timothy’s life. We need a good plan for telling him and our parents.”

I press my lips together, mulling over what he said. He didn’t mention anything about the two of us. I want desperately to ask, but I’ve done enough damage tonight.

He leans over and kisses me gently on the lips. Our mouths linger for a few seconds, then he breaks away. The moonlight outlines his silhouette, and we’re too close together for me to read his face.

“I have to go back to Florida. We can talk while I’m gone. Please don’t tell anyone without me. This will be life-altering news for everyone, especially our son.”

My stomach flips when he says “our son.” It gives me hope of us becoming a real family.

He pulls away and cranks the truck. “I’ll wait until you get inside safely.”

That’s my cue to leave. I open the door, a little shell-shocked at the abrupt departure. As I’m climbing down the tall truck, he leans toward me and says one more thing.

“Good night, Brooke, I love you.”

“I love you too, more than anything.” I force a smile and shut the door.

I walk the few feet to my porch and go inside. Right after I close the door behind me, I hear his truck drive away. I don’t allow myself to watch him leave.

Instead, I go straight to my room and fall back in the bed. I stare at the popcorn ceiling and try to do what he said he would do this week—think and pray.

My prayers sound stressful to match my thoughts. I shed a few tears and squeeze the life out of a throw pillow before finally falling asleep.

CHAPTER 25

Brooke

Either a giant woodpecker now lives nearby or someone is persistently knocking on my door. I blink my eyes open and push onto my elbows.

I’m on my stomach, lying crossways in the bed with no cover, unless you count all the throw pillows piled on my body. I yawn and pull a strand of hair stuck to my cheek by either sweat or dried tears.

I stagger to stand and stretch. I’m still in my nice jeans and silk shirt from last night. The silk is now a crumpled mess to match my hair.

My natural inclination would be to pee, brush my teeth, and look in a mirror before facing the world. If only the pesky noise would give me a minute.

Someone yells, convincing me it’s not a woodpecker. I stumble downstairs and hear my phone buzzing from the living room. I’d tossed my purse on the floor on my way upstairs, which would explain why I didn’t hear my alarm.

“Coming,” I yell at the door from the bottom of the stairs. Straightening my shirt, I hurry over and swing it open to Aniston. Timothy and Carter play outside a few feet back.

“Morning.” She raises a brow and smirks mischievously. “Looks like someone had a good night.”

I exhale laboriously and collapse my shoulders.

“Oh.” Her expression goes from insinuating to questioning.

“What time is it?”

She holds up her phone. I read nine-thirty. I never sleep past eight-thirty unless I’m sick, even on vacation.

“Are you okay?” She nods back at the boys. “Do I need to take him to your mom?”

I waver my head. “Are you in a hurry?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head.

She’s wearing gym shorts, an oversized T-shirt, and flip-flops. However, that’s typical for Aniston and doesn’t mean she isn’t busy. Half of her parenting vlogs feature her with a messy bun and well-worn makeup.

“Come in.” I drag her inside by the sleeve of her shirt and shut the door.

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