Page 50 of It's Always Us

“I don’t know how you’d even know that. You’ve hardly dated anyone.” She shakes her head. “You know, I worry about you. Someday, Grandpa isn’t going to be there to take care of you anymore. What are you going to do then?”

I pull back at her words. “What?” This. This is not what I need right now . . . or ever, but especially not right now. I don’t need a talking-to about how I’ll never make it on my own and need someone to take care of me.

She gestures around her kitchen. “Alex, all of this costs. It takes money to survive. What are you going to do? Run the shop? It’s a business, and you have to be able to . . .”

She doesn’t finish her statement as anger ignites and shoots through me, exploding like a rogue firework. “Read.”

She runs a hand down the front of her dress. “That’s not what I meant.” Her voice is soft, and her shoulders slumping with regret.

It sure as hell sounded like that to me.

“I just mean it takes a lot to run a business, and I’m not sure you understand all that’s involved.”

I don’t even know what to say. I let my hand fall to my stomach inside my pocket, thinking about the tiny being that’s growing and changing.

When that little stick showed double lines, it was the absolute best moment of my life. There already isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t do for this baby. Taking care of it, loving it, and supporting it is my first priority and always will be.

I have things to do, preparations to make, and a man to talk to about . . . everything. What I don’t need is her telling me I’m incapable of it all.

My mom exhales. “When your dad took off, I had no choice but to figure things out. It was a terrible time, and I had no idea how I was going to make it. I never want that for you.”

I force my eyes from the floor, shoving resentment aside. “I might not be good at very many things, and I may have trouble reading and writing, but I know Grandpa’s business from the inside out. I’ve never needed a man to take care of me, and I don’t need one now.”

I grab my keys on the end of the counter. “I’m not staying for dinner. I hope this works out for you.”

“Alex, wait.” My mom reaches for me, and I stop. “I love you. I only want the best for you.”

I shake my head. “No, you don’t. You’ve always wanted what’s best for you.”

I don’t wait for her to respond, heading for my truck with steam billowing from my body. The closer I get to home, the more unsure of myself I become. She targeted and picked at every single one of my insecurities.

She doesn’t even know about Mark or the baby, and I won’t be able to hide it much longer. I need to talk to Mark. He has a say in all of this, and I want him to, but I have to be able to take care of this baby.

I know my limitations, but I also know I can run Grandpa’s shop. There are aspects I may need help with, but I know what those are and how to get the help I need.

I bypass Grandpa, asleep in the recliner, and go straight to my room. I don’t need him seeing my red face or rehashing what happened.

I cross the room to plug in my phone, but catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and stop. I pull my shirt up and unfasten my jeans, which are getting a little snug. I place a hand over where my baby is growing. The tiny bump is beginning to make its presence known. I can’t help the smile that takes hold as the salty taste of tears falls on my lips.

I’ve never wanted anything more. I’ve dreamed of being a mother. The fact that Mark and I did this together only makes it that much more of a miracle.

I long to tell him, but that means I finally have to face those fears I’ve let dangle around me since I left him in Vegas. All the questions I pushed aside while he finished the season have now been dragged front and center, demanding answers.

I don’t know how Mark will react to the baby news, but I’m not afraid to tell him. I’m more afraid of figuring out how to make it work between us. Or really, that it won’t. To find out too much time has passed and we’re not who we once were. Or that my past actions will ruin the second chance I never thought I’d get.

Chapter 15

MARK

If there’s a single place I loathe with every inch of my being, it’s the hospital. The stringent smell, the lights, the crinkly beds lined with plastic, the squeaky clean shine of every sterile, cold surface. All of it.

Shane parks my rental car, and we walk through the back doors of the surgical center so that this little adventure into hell doesn’t become public entertainment. My nerves are already on edge, and I don’t need my paperwork and gown change to be videoed and blasted to every news outlet.

“You all right?” Shane asks as we follow a nurse down the hall into a registration cube.

“Are you going to make me dinner tonight? I’m thinking a grilled steak with a baked potato and a nice cold beer.”

The young woman, clicking away on the keyboard and entering my information, stifles a laugh as she hands me back my insurance card.

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