Page 22 of Kissing the Wrong Mountain Man

It just sucks that our wedded roommate arrangement ends in little over a week. I've been doing some thinking about possibly buying a cabin and settling down on the mountain. I mean, it's a great place to raise a child, my parents are close by, which is super important to me, and it would make it easy for Brock and I to remain friends.

Friends.

Ugh…One of the all-time best TV shows, but right now, I hate that word. Why is it that now, when I'm pregnant and have sworn off love, that I meet a guy I can see myself having an actual, healthy relationship with?

"You've gone quiet," Brock observes when we reach our usual spot. "Thinking writer things?"

"No." I stare up into his brown eyes that captivated me the second I walked up to him at that crowded party. "I was thinking about you."

He stops drinking his water and lowers his arm. He's in his usual flannel uniform, a faded green-and-black shirt this time, paired with black jeans and boots. "What about me?"

We sit down on the bench. "How nice it's been living with you."

He smiles warmly. "It's been nice living with you, too."

"And I'm really touched by what you did last night."

"Ah." He looks out, admiring the view. "It was nothing."

I latch onto his arm. "It wasn't nothing…Was it?"

He turns back slowly, the muscle in his jaw ticking, a frown forming over his brown eyes. "No. It's not nothing. It's?—"

"Ohmygosh!" I cry out, grabbing my stomach.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"The baby. It just kicked."

"Is that bad?"

"No, no. It's just…it's the first time. Here." I reach over and take Brock's hand, guiding it onto my tummy. "I'm not sure if it'll happen aga—Whoa.There."

"Holy heck."

"Did you feel it?"

"Yeah, I did." His eyes grow wide. "That's amazing."

We stare at each other, in shock and happiness, as my little peanut puts on an impressive show, kicking three more times. I lift my hand off Brock's, but it takes him a moment to stop staring at me and realize.

When he does, he draws it back.

"How far along are you now?"

"Eighteen weeks."

He blinks a few times, like he's got something he wants to ask but is weighing up if he should.

I wait.

After a few moments, he asks, "Are you…are you scared about becoming a mom?"

"No, not scared," I answer, taking a deep breath, my body still thrumming from feeling my baby kick for the first time. "I feel guilty."

"Guilty? Why?"

Another breath. "Because my child won't have two loving parents. I have friends who are single parents or who have adopted children, so I know there's no one way to raise a family, but…I can't help it. I want my child to have two parents the same way my sisters and I did." I yank a long blade of grass and twirl it around my finger. "Someone once told me guilt is a useless emotion, that it doesn't give you anything."

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