Page 6 of Unexpected Love

“Joe Carmichael.”

“Really? Do I need to kick his ass? Are you okay?”

I nod. “Yep, and no you don’t need to kick his ass. Am I okay? I think I’m in shock right now. It almost doesn’t seem real.” I begin to cry, and my brother wraps his arms around me.

“Why are you crying?” Because I was the only girl in a house full of men, they hated it when I’d cry. The first time I had my heart broken, I thought my sweet, loving dad—not my pops, who has an even worse temper—would have to be pulled back into the house to keep him from going after the fourteen-year-old boy who dared to break up with me.

“I’m scared.” My voice is soft. “What if I become our birth mom?” Our dads wouldn’t tell us a whole lot except that our birth parents were drug addicts, and it was when Carter was born and tested positive for cocaine that Child Protective Services stepped in and took us away.

“Chloe, do you do drugs?” I shake my head. “Then you’re not going to become her.”

“What if I’m a terrible mom? I never babysat when I was younger, and sure, I’m around our cousins’ kids, but I always felt awkward around them, like I don’t have that mothering gene.”

He pulls back and looks down at me. “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard. When we have family get-togethers, who do the kids flock to? How many times have all of the little ones made you play and sing songs from Frozen and Tangled to them? You just don’t see how good you are with them.”

I pull away and wipe the tears from my eyes. “Sorry, I don’t know what my problem is.” I look him in the eye. “Don’t even say it’s hormones or I’ll punch you in the throat.” I’m only half serious, at least about the throat part. “I think I’m just scared about doing this, scared about telling Dad and Pops, and scared to tell him. I’m prepared to do this alone if he doesn’t want to be involved.”

“You have nothing to be scared of, and you’re not alone.” He hugs me again and then kisses my forehead. “You. Are. Never. Alone.”

He walks me out and offers to go with me when I tell our dads. “I’ll let you know if I need you there with me,” I say.

I head back to my house, and as soon as I step inside, I’m greeted by my babies. Ragnar and Lagertha are Maine Coon cats. They’re both silver tabbies with green eyes. My favorite thing about them is that they both have big bushy tails and big old ears that stand straight up.

“Hi, my babies.” I pick up Laggie first, cuddling my girl to my chest.

“Meow,” she says, cuddling into my neck.

I kiss the top of her head before putting her down and picking up my boy, who always waits patiently for me to finish loving on his sister.

“Come here, my baby.” Everyone makes fun of me for the way I talk to my cats, but I don’t care—I love them and have had them both since they were kittens. My boy is a moose, so I pick up his lard butt.

Ragnar snuggles into me and purrs, which sounds like a motorboat. “Did you miss me?”

“Meow,” he replies.

I put him down, and they follow me into the kitchen of my adorable little bungalow. My whole house is bright with its high white ceilings and glass light fixtures that illuminate the kitchen and dining room. Ceiling fans hang in the other rooms.

The flooring is made from Brazilian teak and tongue hardwood. It’s gorgeous and makes it easy to clean up the cat hair. Both cats were declawed before I got them, and honestly I wouldn’t have done it had I had them as tiny kittens. The kitchen is all white with stainless steel appliances and white marble countertops.

Ragnar is impatient as always and sits next to where I keep their treats, meowing his impatience. “I hear you, baby.” I grab the bag as Lagertha comes over to stand next to her brother. Ragnar lets his sister have the first treat, and my girl takes it right from my fingers. She prances off with her treat, and then my boy swishes his tail back and forth while I grab his. “Meow.” He inches closer to me.

After grabbing his treat, he trots off, and I shake my head. Pig. I grab a glass of iced tea and my Kindle and step out the back door onto the cute little deck I have. I set my glass and Kindle down and slip off my flip flops, placing them on the empty chair across from me.

My mind drifts off, and my hand goes to my lower abdomen. I still can’t believe there is a baby in there. How hard is it going to be to do it alone? I know I can do it, and lots of women do it alone every day.

I still need to tell my parents, and then I need to tell Joe. Picking up my glass of iced tea, I close my eyes and say a little prayer that it goes well.

***

Pulling into the driveway of the home I grew up in, I smile. I have so many great memories here. Carter and I were, and still are, lucky to have two dads that love us fiercely. Have we missed out not having a mom? Not at all, because we have a wonderful grandma and aunts who were there for me when it came to woman stuff when I was growing up.

Don’t get me wrong—sometimes we did get shit from people for having two dads. They said that we were gay too and that we were probably getting molested. Carter got it worse, but he just started kicking anyone’s ass that messed with him or me. We know families with moms and dads that are completely dysfunctional, and ours isn’t perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than others I’ve seen.

Our best friend, Eli, grew up in the house right next door. His parents still live there. It was my dads that helped Eli come out to his parents when he was sixteen. It wasn’t easy, and Eli and his mom didn’t talk for a while, but thankfully she came around.

I reach the front door and give a knock before I open the door. “Dad? Pops?” My dad comes out of the kitchen.

“Hi, baby girl.” He wraps me in a hug and squeezes me tight. “You look gorgeous as always.” I wrap my arm around his waist as he leads me through the living room and into the kitchen. My dad has a heavy sprinkling of silver hair mixed in with his blond. He and Pops seem to get more and more handsome with age.

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