Page 82 of Christmas with Brother's Best Friends
I smile to myself, feeling weight lift off my shoulders. I was so afraid of taking the dive into parenthood, but I’m not doing it alone. I’m doing it with the people who mean the most to me.
Myrealfamily.
Chapter thirty-seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven: Emma
The next few months are a whirlwind of exciting and nerve-wracking chaos.
Officially dating the guys has been a dream. Between the solo dates, group dates, and sleepovers, we spend more quality time together now than we did when we were working in the same office. Of course, we have to sneak around doing all of these things, but when I don’t remember all the secrets that we’re hiding, I’m in sheer bliss, completely surrounded by care and affection.
They’ve even brought me to doctor’s appointments and picked up anything and everything that I need from the store, being as involved as fathers and partners as they’ve promised. I can’t even put into words how much that means to me. How much that helps medestress.
But there’s still plenty to be anxious about.
“So, are you still doing remote work, honey?” Mom asks as we all sit at the dining table for dinner.
I grip my fork tighter at her question,. I’ve been dodging questions about my career and future like the plague, but I can only give my family the same few excuses so many times.
“For now,” I reply as my free hand rests on my stomach. I’ll start showing before I know it. I’m running out of time before they find out the truth themselves.
My throat tightens. My fork scrapes across the plate too loud, but no one mentions it. They’re all watching me, waiting for answers I don’t know how to give.
“We figured you were looking for something in the city,” Dad says from across the table as he pokes around at his roasted potatoes. “Not going to leave us so soon, right?”
I shake my head. “That’s not the plan. I’m just seeing what pops up.”
“Are you actively looking for something? I can ask my friends if anyone is hiring,” Mom offers.
“No, that’s fine,” I say a bit too quickly and forcefully, my skin starting to heat from anxiety. Or maybe it’s hormones. I can’t tell anymore.
“I think she’s just focusing on other things. She’s chill with the remote stuff for now,” Ethan speaks up for me before picking up the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table. “Are you sure you don’t want any wine, Emma?”
“No, thank you,” I tell him before sipping on my water instead. When they give me strange looks, I shrug. “Wine gives me headaches, and I have work to do tonight.”
That seems to be a good enough excuse.
“I don’t mean to push. I just want to know what’s going on in your life,” Mom says with a bittersweet look on her face. “You’ve felt so distant lately.”
“We were surprised you agreed to come to dinner,” Dad adds, coaxing Mom to nod in agreement.
My cheeks warm up as I glance at Ethan and Andrew, who remain quiet. If they say anything, they’ll agree with my parents because it’s true. I have been distant, but it’s not for the reasons they think.
Despite my family stressing me out because they can be a little smothering, I don’t want to be distant to them. I don’t want to deny family dinners or seem like I hate being around them.
Things are complicated. So much more complicated than they could ever think.
If things were different, I would be happy to share the baby news and include them in my journey into parenthood, but I can’t tell them yet. I’m not ready.
“I’ve just been busy,” I tell them, busying myself with cutting into my steak to avoid their concerned eyes. “I told you guys that.”
“We know. We just miss seeing your face,” Mom replies lightly. “You know if you need anything, we’re here.”
Sitting here lying to their faces formonthsmakes me sick to my stomach, but I’m too scared of how furious and disappointed they’ll be when they find out. I’m stuck in this back-and-forth hell of what I should do and what I’m too scared to do.
I know they all mean well by being concerned for me, but I can’t handle this extra stress. I promised the guys and myself that I would do whatever it takes to limit my stress levels, and I can’t do that when they’re asking me all these questions and worrying about me.
“I should really get started on my work. My deadline is tomorrow, and I don’t want to stay up all night working on it,” I tell them as I wipe my mouth with my napkin and stand from the table.
