Page 124 of Sweet Little Thing

Seventy-Six

Beulah

Stone didn’t come back from Manhattan for the next two days, but he called often. His tone was different—happy almost.

Hilda hadn’t returned. When or if she did, I was supposed to call Stone immediately. I wasn’t sure I wanted to spend any time alone with her, but Stone did need her, and I hoped she wasn’t backing out on him. Having both biological parents would make the difference.

When I got home after seven and saw that Hilda’s car wasn’t back, I texted Stone to let him know there was still no sign of her. The coast was clear, so I headed for the entrance. Before I could reach the door, Marty or Mack opened it and came walking out. The smile on his face and his wink when he saw me told me it was Mack.

“Hey, beautiful. Still alone up there?” he asked.

“Yes. Stone isn’t back yet. He’s spending time with his brother,” I replied. It felt weird calling Wills his brother now.We’d decided it was best to continue as things were until this was handled.

He nodded toward the door. “Marty is making a mess, which means it’ll taste great. You’re welcome to join. It’s just us tonight.”

I wondered where the others were. Especially since I knew they did indeed have a sex life with other occupants in the building.

“What happened to your usual dinner date?” I asked him.

He grinned. “Fight Night on Pay Per View. She won’t watch it. Hates the violence.”

I had no idea what fight night was. I nodded anyway. “Thank you, but I ate with Geraldine. I knew I was coming home to an empty apartment.”

“What happened to the hot ass cougar that was staying up there? I was enjoying her attempts to get me naked.”

“Hilda?” I was surprised by his comment.

“I guess. She never told me her name. Mid-thirties, maybe, but had some work done and looked younger. I can always tell, though. The hands tell the age. You just have to pay attention. She was also horny as fuck—that makes her over thirty-five. I’ve found the ones panting with need are the ones whose man is too old to keep them satisfied.”

That was more information than I needed. I didn’t want to think about Hilda doing the same to Stone when I wasn’t around.

“She’s one of Stone’s former stepmothers,” I explained. I left out that she was Wills’s mom. I don’t know why, but I didn’t want to share that.

“Dayum, that must have been a good home life. Hot-ass, half-naked stepmother walking around.” Mack chuckled. “Anyway, if you change your mind, come eat. Door is always open.”

Remembering that Hilda and Stone had been together once made me feel slightly crazy. I had been reading about myhormones today from the booklet that the doctor gave me. It also suggested websites to visit for more information. I knew that my clingy, jealous emotions were normal. And that they would pass. I was ready for them to pass. I didn’t like this at all. My eyes stung suddenly, and I was on the verge of tears.

“Thanks.” I quickly hurried past him, embarrassed by my reaction to his words. I felt like a lunatic, and if he saw me about to cry, he’d probably think I was one too.

“You okay?” he called up after me as I ran up the stairs. He had walked back outside his door to check on me. Great.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I tried my hardest to sound fine, but my voice cracked, and I ran faster up the stairs, needing to get away from him before I started crying and he could hear me.

Hiding that I was pregnant wasn’t going to be the easiest thing I’d ever done. Especially if this was going to last a few weeks, possibly months. I needed to read more about it. There had to be a way to control my emotional swings better than I was.

Once I was inside the apartment, I let the tears go, and a sob broke free. Even as I cried, I wasn’t sure why I was crying exactly. Because nine years ago, Stone had sex with Hilda? That even sounded ridiculous. Covering my face, I slid down the wall letting it all go. Might as well get it over with.

I missed my mom. I could tell her. She’d know what I should do. She’d be there to answer all my questions.

I was alone. I couldn’t tell Stone. He had too much to deal with, and there was the chance he wouldn’t want the baby—not when he was fighting for the child he already had.

I was scared. What if I did something wrong? What if that night of drinking had hurt the baby? What if I was a terrible mother?

The tears continued, and so did my train of thought. I didn’t fight it. I just let it go until there were no more tears, and I was exhausted from the outburst. Once it was all dried up, I sighed and stood. My body was weak, and I started to go to the bedroombut stopped and went to the kitchen instead. I needed water.

Or did I need something more? Like milk? Was I drinking enough milk for the baby, or did that matter when you were pregnant? Again, I had more questions I had no one to ask. I started to get my phone and Google it, but I decided to just drink the milk.

Taking the glass down, I poured it halfway and then drank it before rinsing it and putting it in the dishwasher. I would need to buy a book about this, one I could check when I had these questions.

---