Page 78 of Forced Knocked-Up Mate

I’m so fucking emotional right now! I don’t even know what I want.

“Let’s go,” I say, changing the subject. “I want to check out how things are going at the shop.”

Peter doesn’t push it, just agrees to drive me to the bakery. On the way there, he talks about the work he’s doing at New Hope, coaching the kids and joining the community programs. It really sounds like he’s changed for good, but I want to believe it too much.

Which is exactly why I can’t.

When we get to the shop, Peter heads out back while I walk to the counter to help Sarah. She hurries over and hugs me, her eyes full of concern.

“Lucy!” she exclaims. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” I answer, giving her a quick squeeze. “I just slept in a bit.”

Sarah gives me a critical look. “Are you sure you aren’t coming down with something?”

“Maybe,” I hedge. “I’m not sure.”

“Get in and see a doctor, please. You had everyone pretty worried this morning.”

My rising irritation at the line of questioning flips suddenly into appreciation that my friends care so much about me. My eyes well up with tears again.

Is this what pregnancy is like? It feels like being on a goddamn rollercoaster. How do I survive nine months of this?

“I will,” I say quickly. “I’m sure it’s nothing too serious, though. Did Peter call you to come in?”

“Fiona did, actually, but Peter was setting up when I arrived. He had the shelves stocked and was serving customers like a pro.”

“Really?” I can’t believe it.

“I was amazed,” Sarah says. “Not just at how he was managing by himself, but he was really engaging with people and getting to know them. A couple of the morning regulars even asked him to go out for beers later this week.”

“You mean the tradesmen?” I ask in disbelief. “Those guys barely even grunt when I’m making their bacon and egg muffins.”

“Apparently, Peter knows exactly how to talk to them,” Sarah says, giggling. “Almost like it’s a secret language only used by rough men.”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter. “Anything else to report?”

“Well…”

“Out with it!” I prod, preparing myself for the bomb to drop.

Here it is… the proof that his change isn’t genuine.

“He asked me about what you like,” Sarah answers. “If there was a restaurant you like, how to make your favorite food, that kind of thing.”

I just blink at her. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack. He’s really trying, Lucy.”

My emotions do another flip, and I don’t know if I want to scream or cry.

What do I do now? If I take him back, I have to tell him about the baby, and then I’ll never find out if this change is real.

But how long am I prepared to wait? Months?

A few customers come in, and I’m grateful for the distraction. I know that it doesn’t matter how much thinking I do on the subject; the answer will always come up the same.

I have to trust him. Trust that the change is real, and trust that he wants to stay because of me, because of us. Not because he’s chained to me by responsibility.

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