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I told her I’d wait for her forever, and I will.

But she’d been the one to ask me to kiss her…

I want her to ask me again.

Faye pushes the lid back onto the container of cookies. It seals with a click before she turns to me. “I couldn’t eat another bite without exploding.” I watch her move from the kitchen into the entrance hall again. “We should put this away.”

I follow her into the hall with the bassinet and then into her room where she deposits the bags of baby clothes onto her bed.

“Where do you want it?”

She turns to face me, nibbling the corner of her lip as her eyes track me from head to toe. “Don’t you think we should put the bassinet where we’re sleeping? The baby is supposed to be in the same room for the first six months.”

I don’t understand what she’s saying, so I walk the bassinet closer to her bed. I set it down. “This is where you sleep.”

She’s still nibbling her lip as she considers. She releases her lip and says softly, “What if it wasn’t where I sleep?”

Heat and hope and a whole lot of other emotions move through me at breakneck speed. Is she saying what I think she’s saying?

“Does this mean you’re moving into my room?” My voice sounds husky as my words fall between us.

Slowly, she nods.

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. Without another word, I lift the bassinet and carry it from her room into—ours.

23

NEW YEARS

JANUARY 2010 – 18 YEARS OLD

Staying up until midnight while pregnant is akin to torture. I'm exhausted and knowing that I have to go back to the shop, go back to work—I'm even more exhausted.

Thankfully, Dad gave me tomorrow off. Because if I had to go in to work tomorrow morning, all hell would break loose. I'd probably end up falling asleep at the counter.

With my luck, we'd be robbed, which is saying something, because Rubble Ridge is a sweet, sleepy town. Not much happens here. In the years I've lived here, I haven’t heard of a single robbery. It's safe. Dad says it’s a good, solid community with good, solid people.

But if I fell asleep on the job, we'd be robbed.

I've come to this conclusion because of the situation I am currently in. Pregnant after one missed pill—after one time without protection. One time.

If bad luck exists, I’ve got it. Though Mom likes to say there’s no such thing as bad luck, just choices with unfavorable consequences.

Either way you want to look at it, I got the short end of the stick finding myself pregnant at eighteen.

Oh well, it is what it is. You roll with the tumble of the dice. You fall and get back up—or you don’t.

I think not getting back up is worse...

My eyes drift to the clock on the wall, and I groan internally. Another 40 minutes before midnight.

I'm not going to make it.

My eyes feel heavy, and they're burning. I even had a nap this afternoon in preparation for this exact moment. For midnight.

I had a nap because I've been sleeping next to Tate for the last week, and he hasn't kissed me. He hasn't touched me. Not once.

Well, he's touched me, just not like that.