Page 80 of Baby For My Ex's Brother

Well… this is oneway to disrupt my proposal plans.

I had planned on waking up early and heading straight to the local jeweler. I would pick out a ring Shiloh might like, come back here, make her breakfast, and then get down on one knee and propose.

I had everything ready, even the perfect words to say. I had rehearsed it in my head a thousand times, imagining her reaction, the look in her eyes when she saw the ring, and the tears of joy as she said yes.

Then I woke up, and she was gone.

And now she’s in the bathroom, taking a pregnancy test.

My head spins as I sit down at the kitchen table, considering what this might mean. I never saw myself as a father—my own father is a bastard, plain and simple. The idea of following in his footsteps terrifies me.

But with her…

Shiloh has made me certain I can be a better person. She’s the woman I want a future with, no matter what.

Rather than the dread I thought I’d feel, all I have is hope. Hope that she is, in fact, pregnant. Hope that she’ll want to keep the baby. Hope that we can build a family together, something beautiful and lasting, something neither of us had growing up.

I go about business as usual, making breakfast for her even though I’m on pins and needles with anticipation. I hear her moving around in the bathroom, then her voice—soft, whispering.

I think she’s on the phone, maybe with her friend Nadia. I try to ignore her conversation, wanting her to feel like she has her privacy. But it's hard. Every word feels like a dagger, a reminder of the uncertainty we’re facing.

At the same time, I find that I’m angry… or is this hurt?

Why didn’t she tell me? Why did she have to face this alone?

I tamp those feelings down as I hear the bathroom door open and Shiloh comes back down the hall from the master suite. I serve the small omelet I made for her onto a plate; then I pour her the cup of tea she asked for.

She sits down at the kitchen table and stares at the food like she’s never seen an omelet before, her mind clearly elsewhere.

I don’t press her. She needs me to be patient…

I amnota patient man.

“It was positive,” she whispers.

I reel, unable to stop staring at her. Shiloh, on the other hand, won’t look at me at all. She picks up the fork and takes a bite of her omelet, chewing slowly as if the act of eating might ground her.

“And you’re sure?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, not trusting myself to say more without my voice breaking.

She finally looks up at me and nods, swallows. “Two positive results. I’ll do the last one in a little while, but… yeah. Pretty sure.”

Our eyes lock on one another, unmoving. I don’t know who should make the first move. I want nothing more than to move forward, take her in my arms, tell her how happy I am that we’re doing this together, that we’re going to be a family—

“I know it’s inconvenient,” she says, voice hollow. “I can… maybe get rid of it, if that’s what you—”

“Don’t,” I interrupt.

She frowns, and I can see the beginnings of tears in her eyes. I don’t want her to cry. I hate seeing her cry, hate even more when I’m the one who caused it. “Are you… you want it?”

I come forward slowly, then I drop to my knees beside her. I reach out and take her left hand, which feels criminally bare. She should already have a ring on her finger. I should have told her how I felt a long time ago.

“What I want doesn’t matter right now,” I tell her, even though what I want feels like it matters a hell of a lot more than I’m letting on. “You need to make this decision.”

She bites her lip…, and the first tear falls. I reach out and brush it away, feeling the dampness on my fingertips like a burn.

“I thought you would be upset,” she says.

“No, Shiloh, no, not at all,” I say. “I told you I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If you want to keep this baby… or if you don’t… I’m not going anywhere.”

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