Page 21 of Say You Want Me
“I didn’t know you had another brother.”
“Josh is . . .” I trail off, trying to think how to explain him. “Difficult.”
Wyatt grins. “I have one of those.”
I wish that Josh were like Trent. As difficult as he seems to be, it’s different. “Not the same. Josh is the biggest snob I’ve ever met. He made a ton of money in his early twenties and let it get to his head. He’s stingy, self-absorbed, and pretentious. He lets everyone know it, too. He’s a pompous prick that I feel no need to be around. I can only imagine what he’s going to say when he finds out I’m pregnant.”
Wyatt’s body tenses, and his face grows hard. “It’s not his place.”
“No.” I close my eyes. “But he’ll still have an opinion.”
One that won’t be good. I’m sure we’ll end up screaming at each other. He’ll call me a whore, or some other awful name, and then inject something about Todd. When Todd died he didn’t even come to the funeral. He stayed in Florida in all his perfection. God forbid he be there for me, Presley, or our parents. It was easier for him to say how Todd made his choice and that he wasn’t going to be inconvenienced because of it. Did I mention he’s a prick?
I’ve never been more disappointed in him than I was in that moment.
“No,” Wyatt says with no room for question. “He won’t.”
It’s sweet that he’s already slightly protective. He’s pretty cute when he’s being all macho. “It’s fine. I’ve learned to ignore whatever comes out of his mouth.”
“Tell me more about your parents,” he urges.
We settle in, and I talk about my mother and going through her treatments. We talk about the fact that I haven’t spoken to her in months and really didn’t notice until now. It’s sad that she wasn’t the first phone call I wanted to make, but I’ve come to accept the relationship she’s capable of having. She may not be the mother I wish I had, but I can’t change her. I can’t force someone to love me the way I want them to. It doesn’t work that way.
Time passes and Wyatt and I keep sharing. Sometimes we talk about our friends, other times our family. My eyes grow tired, and I fight to keep them open.
“Sleep.” His other hand comes to my cheek.
“No,” I say around a yawn, fighting the exhaustion settling over me.
He shifts forward, kisses my forehead, and lies back down. “Good night, Angie.”
“Good night, Wyatt.”
His other hand slides down my body, and my eyes jerk open. His brown eyes don’t move from mine, and he keeps our fingers intertwined. His hand rests on my stomach. “Good night, baby.”
I place my hand over his. “Good night, baby.”
We both smile at each other, and his beautiful eyes close.
THE NEXT TWELVE DAYS GOby seamlessly. The doctor was old, but really sweet. He gave me a lot of things to think about, and some advice on how to handle any symptoms I’ll probably have. All in all, Wyatt was right. He is a great doctor, which of course I won’t tell him. We told his parents last weekend, which I was nervous about but quickly learned I had no reason to be. I still haven’t called my own parents, though.
Wyatt works, comes home, showers, and we have dinner. He’s typically asleep before I’m even remotely ready for bed, but that’s because he’s up at the ass crack of dawn.
Wyatt’s given me carte blanche in regards to any decorating I want. I’ve spent hours online and probably spent way more than I should for a three month stay, but at least I know that when the baby is born, the house is pretty.
I flop in the chair with a huff. I’m freaking tired. Like, all the time. I want to sleep and then sleep some more. Who knew that growing a kid would be so freaking exhausting? Not me. Although, I’m sure the book of crap that no one tells you has that little tidbit.
“Knock, knock,” I hear someone say from the doorway.
I stand and see Wyatt’s mama pop her head in. “Mrs. Hennington! Come in, please!” I smile, glad to have someone here to keep me from buying anything else.
“Hi there, darlin’! I wanted to come see how you were getting along here.” She smiles with the warmth of the sun. “Also, I brought you a pie.”
She’s probably one of the sweetest women in the world, and her Southern charm is infectious. I’ve met her a few times with Presley before I claimed my door prize, and it’s clear where her boys get their good hearts from. Macie Hennington has raised her kids with honor and respect.
“I’m hanging in there.”
“You’ll love it here, I just know it.”
