Page 15 of Love or Tequila in Unexpected Places

Clearly, this pregnancy was already taking its toll on her.

Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to return to work for a while; however, if it were up to her father, she would either be working until she dropped or hiding away to avoid anyone noticing her condition. His archaic views on women in the workplace were not just outdated—they were stifling, and she knew they would ultimately be his undoing.

As a wave of nausea washed over her, Allison rushed to the bathroom, the familiar sensation triggered not just by her pregnancy but by the mere thought of her father. It was a common reaction she had grown accustomed to over the years. Despite what others might assume, her relationship with him had always been strained. He was a man of rigid expectations and traditional beliefs, and their clashes had shaped her life inways she had only begun to understand. While others saw a strong family bond, she felt a suffocating pressure that left little room for her own aspirations. He was cold, approving of nothing and nobody.

In all honesty, what hurt most was his complete indifference for Allison.

He focused on her brothers—praising Leopold, scolding Frederick, berating Johnathan—but Allison barely warranted a glance. On rare occasions when he acknowledged her achievements, it was with a fleeting nod. And when she erred—such as becoming pregnant—he would shout briefly, remind her of her place ashis daughter, then vanish. Allison’s father was a ghost in her life, and had been since her birth.

Her mother, Veronica Lockwood, had been intelligent, kind, and beautiful. A freshman at the University of Washington Law, Veronica had just begun her adult life when she met Oliver Lockwood, the love of her life. Despite admirers vying for her attention, Veronica had instantly and deeply fallen for Oliver. They married three years later, bought a home, and Oliver launched his business while Veronica intended to pursue her studies.

However, her plans were derailed. By pregnancy.

First came Johnathan Green Lockwood, followed by Leopold Brown Lockwood two years later, and then Frederick Red Lockwood another two years after that. Though their children were a handful, Veronica and Oliver relished their family life, driven by their enduring love.

As if all those kids weren’t enough for them, they went for more. Three years after Frederick, Allison Pink Lockwood was born.

Suddenly, the joyous atmosphere shifted.

Because Allison killed her mother.

Veronica had been been sitting at home alone relaxing at a very obvious, very popped, very tired, seven months pregnant, when she felt sharp pains stabbing at her. She’d called her husband, he’d come home from work in a frenzy and rushed her to the hospital.

Several hours later, the doctor had announced that Allison’s mother was dead. The umbilical cord had wrapped around Allison’s neck, and the fetal distress had caused the pains. The situation had been so severe that the doctor had decided an emergency C-section was necessary, but they hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding. And, so, her mother died.

After that, her father lost all the joy he had—which Allison doubted was a lot to begin with. He blamed her for her mother’s death and simply never bothered hiding it.

He’s an asshole to everyone but at least he’s less of an asshole to my brothers.

Lucky bastards.

Although, admittedly, her brothers weren’t lucky in the slightest; they’d lost their mother, too, after all. They never blamed her for it, however. Not once. Instead, they took it upon themselves to raise her, to provide her with the care and love her mother couldn’t and her father lacked. From diaper changes to screening her boyfriends, her brothers had always been there for her, just as they continued to be.

Her eyes burned, just as they did every time she thought about her mother. The ache in her chest felt like a weight she couldn’t shake, a constant reminder of the love and guidance she had never received. Allison wiped at her tears with a rough move that hurt her eyes even more, but she didn’t care. The sting was nothing compared to the hollow feeling inside her.

Every time she saw a mother and daughter together, laughter spilling between them, she felt a pang of jealousy and sorrow.She wished for that connection, that bond she would never get to experience.

“Mom, I wish I could have known you,” she whispered into the silence, her heart heavy. “I could really use your wisdom right now.”

The thought of becoming a mother herself, especially without the guidance of her own, was both thrilling and terrifying. She felt an overwhelming wave of uncertainty wash over her. “What would you tell me if you were here?” Allison pondered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Would you have been proud? Or would you be upset that I ended up in this situation?”

Her mind raced with memories of her mother’s smile as described by John—warm and inviting, a beacon of hope. She could imagine the way her mother would have reassured her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. “You would have known just what to say,” she said, her voice trembling. “You would have told me that it’s okay to be scared and that I’m not alone.”

As tears streamed down her cheeks, she curled up into a ball on the couch, clutching a pillow as if it could somehow fill the void her mother had left. She felt so lost in this moment, wrestling with the uncertainty of tomorrow. She longed for her mother’s guidance, her wisdom on how to navigate this uncharted territory.

For a moment, the fear threatened to engulf her completely, and she clutched the pillow tighter, tears soaking into the fabric. “Mom, I don’t know how to do this without you,” she murmured, feeling utterly alone.

In that moment of vulnerability, a flicker of determination ignited within her. “I can’t let fear take over,” she told herself, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to be a mother, and I owe it to my baby to try, even if I have to do it alone.”

With a deep breath, Allison felt a few more tears leave her eyes. “I’ll make you proud,” she whispered to her mother, herheart swelling with a mix of sadness and hope. “I’ll do my best to be the kind of mom you would have wanted me to be.”

Sighing, Allison headed to her kitchen. She knew she had to eat something, but she hadn’t been able to stop throwing up ever since she first started.

The nausea was relentless, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. She opened the fridge and stared blankly at the contents, each item reminding her of meals she used to enjoy. Nothing seemed appetizing anymore, and the thought of cooking felt overwhelming.

After a moment, she settled on a simple piece of toast. As she spread a thin layer of butter, she thought about how quickly everything had changed. The excitement of pregnancy had been overshadowed by this wave of sickness, leaving her feeling isolated and exhausted. She just hoped it would pass soon so she could finally enjoy the journey ahead.

How am I going to keep any food down?

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