Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 11

Poppy

“Poppy, come on , we’re going to be late.”

“I had to pee, okay? I’ll be right down.” I blew out a short breath, tugging my leggings up and turning to the side to study my profile in the mirror. “Geez Louise,” I muttered. “There’s no hiding it now.”

The little nugget was no longer making me puke up all my food, which was lovely , but I also couldn’t really hide the bump anymore either. Not that I was hiding it from anyone that mattered. My family had known since the beginning. My mom came home about an hour after Parker made The Great Pregnancy Test run, and my tears started afresh when I told her. She cried too, but hers were happy tears, not holy shit existential crisis tears like mine.

“More grandkids is always a good thing,” she told me, holding my face in two hands and kissing my forehead. “Don’t you worry about a thing, sweetheart.”

My sisters were cautiously ecstatic, babying me even more than normal, and being surprisingly not-pushy when I didn’t make any clear leaps to announce paternity. My brothers gave big, tight, supportive hugs—something they’d always been good at .

Cameron’s girlfriend, Ivy, was the only one who straight out asked the thing no one dared ask.

“So are we not going to talk about the sperm donor in this situation?”

It was at a family dinner a few weeks after I’d told everyone. Cameron held my gaze after Ivy said it, and Ian traded a quick look with his wife, Harlow.

Harlow’s daughter Sage raised her hand. “What’s a sperm donor?”

Ivy grimaced. “Sorry. Maybe I could’ve phrased that differently. Was there a turkey baster involved or an actual human being? Because I’m pretty sure I heard it was the latter.”

Harlow’s eyes widened. “Ivy.”

“Sorry ,” she said again. “I’m just asking what everyone’s thinking. Shouldn’t the guy be involved? Or aware?”

Cameron sighed, rubbing a hand over her shoulders. Even with the blunt delivery, I knew Ivy was just worried about me. They all were. But the absolute last thing I was going to do was tell a flat-out lie about the father. Because it was only a matter of time before Jax reappeared—any fucking day would be great—and I couldn’t exactly press my brother on when that would be.

And Dean. Dean was just … weirdly so okay with me being pregnant with another man’s baby that sometimes I questioned whether he was real.

Like I’d conjured him, my phone buzzed on the top of my dresser.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Be a better one if I’d seen you before work, but maybe we can rectify that later.”

The warm, deep sound of his voice had me smiling. “Possibly. How late will you be today?”

Dean hummed, and I heard the click of keys in the background. “I have a block in my afternoon in case I need to head out to Redmond. One of my client’s horses is due to give birth any time, and her last one didn’t go very well, so I’d like to be there if she starts labor. So I’ll either be done by three today or elbow deep in horse fluids by dinner.”

My nose scrunched. “I really appreciate the visual, thanks.”

His laugh was just like his voice—a soothing comfort bled through even the most stressful of mornings. “You leaving for your appointment soon?” he asked.

“Probably should’ve left five minutes ago, but I can’t decide what to wear.” I tugged at the hem of my shirt. “My burrito baby is looking less burrito and more … baby.”

“You’ll look amazing no matter what you wear,” he answered.

I turned to the side and studied my bump. “I’m going to be huge soon. You might retract that statement when my ankles are the size of my neck.”

He hummed. “Thanks for the visual.”

I laughed. “Will you help me put on my compression socks if that happens?”

“I can’t imagine anything else I’d rather do,” he answered gravely.

With a lingering smile, I shook my head. How many men would find out their girlfriend was pregnant by another man and just … go with it? The night I told him, he asked some questions about the father, and I evaded those like a fucking champ, managing to avoid any outright lies by saying the father wasn’t in town, and he didn’t want a family. He simply hugged me and told me that any child of mine was lucky to have me, and as long as I wanted him around, he wasn’t going anywhere.

Then he kissed me. Dean was a good kisser. He knew when to use tongue and not too much of it. He knew when to kiss sweet and soft and slow. I definitely got butterflies when he kissed with an edge too, like he was holding on by a thread .

And that thread had to be short . With the hey surprise I’m pregnant announcement, I was oddly relieved for Dean’s second attempt at virginity. I was too busy puking and feeling like death for the first ten weeks to even consider bedtime activities. The thing he’d done, though, unfailingly, was make me feel beautiful. Supported. And loved.

He hadn’t said it yet, which I was oddly grateful for, but there was no hiding the way he looked at me. Every single day, I prayed to wake up and feel it like a lightning bolt. To feel like, Yes, this sweet, perfect man was it for me, let’s ride off into the sunset together . But so far, it wasn’t so much a lightning bolt of love as a sweet wave of happiness and contentment.

That was good though too, and I knew it.

“Poppy,” my mom called.

“Dean, I gotta go. Sheila’s head is about to explode if we don’t leave.”

He clucked his tongue. “I told you I’d use the wand in my office if you wanted an early ultrasound.”

I snorted. “The same wand you used on the feral, flea-infested cat yesterday?”

“The very one. You’re missing out.”

“As much as I’d appreciate you using your wand on me,” I teased, “I think I’ll pass for now.”

“Go,” he said gently, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “It would be very messy if your mom’s head exploded.”

Dean disconnected the call with a promise to check in later, and again I tugged my pale purple T-shirt down over my leggings and let out a long sigh at just how pregnant I looked.

It was a warm day—spring was still a ways off—but even in March, we were getting some warmer, sunnier days after a colder-than-usual winter.

Cold winters made for excellent pregnancy hiders, as I’d learned. I could hibernate at home, watching movies and football underneath big fuzzy blankets, my handy puke bucket never very far from reach .

For a while, baggy sweatshirts and big coats were my friends, especially any time I went into town.

The double-edged sword of being from a well-known family in a very small town was that everyone knew your business. Sometimes that was good. We felt so taken care of, so loved when my dad was sick and when he passed away.

But with something like this? I snorted softly, rubbing a hand over my little bump.

“Can’t keep hiding forever, can we, nugget?” I asked quietly.

“Poppy,” my mom snapped, the sharp tone of her voice had me jumping. “Let’s go .”

I stuck my feet into some slip-on shoes and wrangled the mess of hair into something a little neater as I skipped down the steps.

“Sorry, sorry,” I said. “Dean called while I was trying to decide whether big and baggy was a thing of the past.”

Mom eyed my bump with a wry grin. “I’m thinking yes.”

I sighed. “Let the rampant gossip begin, huh?”

She slung an arm around my shoulder. “Let them talk, sweetheart. The people who matter don’t mind, and the people who mind don’t matter.”

It was such a mom thing to say. But it helped, no matter how cliché of a statement it was. Inside the protective bubble of our family, this life curveball didn’t seem so daunting. I had a good-paying job that I loved, a roof over my head, and a mother who seemed to take this whoopsie of a pregnancy so well, I could only imagine it’s because it gave her a new little person to fret over.

We buckled ourselves into her car, and I eyed the clock nervously when I realized how close it was to my sixteen-week appointment. “Oh shit, no wonder you were yelling.”

“Mm-hmm. I don’t break out that tone for very much now that you guys are grown.”

I smiled, then gripped the handlebar above the car door when my mom roared down the driveway, taking a corner with a squeal of the tires. “Easy, turbo. We’re not that late.”

“You heard the woman last time. They’ll reschedule you if you’re even five minutes past the start time.” She gripped the steering wheel, her eyes focused on the road. “I want to listen to my grandchild’s heartbeat for the first time, and I am not giving her the satisfaction of canceling us because I know she was just waiting to knock us down a peg.”

I snorted. “Is she part of that, those who mind don’t matter thing?”

Mom clucked her tongue. “Don’t sass me, young lady. I can still be bothered by someone clearly judgmental. I saw the way she eyed your belly when she came out of church last week even though it was hidden under your sweater. Don’t think I didn’t.” She cut someone off as we blew through a yellow light, and I tightened my grip on the handle. “And not like she’s perfect. She left her first husband for her son’s best friend. I oughta put her right back in her place one of these days.”

“Mother,” I said on a shocked gasp of laughter. “What would Dad say if he heard such things come out of your mouth?”

She let out a small snort. “He’d probably make some fuss about not having a violent reaction and extending grace, blah, blah, blah, but deep down, that man would have me going for the jugular if anyone was making you feel bad about yourself, and you know it as well as I do.”

Absently, I rubbed at my chest, trying to soothe the dull ache. It was getting easier to talk about him as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months. I’d had many nights where I laid awake wondering what he’d think of all this.

When I stared up at the sky and wondered if he somehow knew what was happening since he left.

Where I cried myself to sleep, because even though my brothers gave good hugs, and my mom and my sisters were amazing and supportive, I’d never be able to hear my dad’s voice tell me that it would be okay while he wrapped me in his arms. That he’d love the little nugget no matter how much of a surprise they were.

I blinked away the sudden wetness in my eyes before my mom could see it because even though she was doing really well, it didn’t take much to tip her over into the cry-fest with one of us if we started it.

So I held it together. For me and for her.

We made it to my appointment two minutes early, and damn if my mother didn’t give the woman behind the desk a smug little smile when we checked in. She held my hand while I lay back on the table and answered the doctor’s usual questions. Then the doctor pulled up my shirt and placed the wand over the bump, pressing into the skin just a bit.

Instantly, the room filled with a loud, fast whooshing sound. A smile broke open over my face, and my mom cried silently as she clutched my hand even tighter.

“Hey, baby,” I whispered, my fingers spreading over the part of my stomach still untouched by the wand.

It was magic. Maybe one of the purest kinds we could experience on this earth, and I closed my eyes and let the sound of it wash over me while love—perfect, strong love—knocked me over like a giant wave.

And right on the heels of it, a dull pang of longing, wondering where Jax was and when he might show his face. Wondering what he’d say or do. I blew out a slow breath, forcing any of those stresses out of my mind. I took a few deep breaths, lest my blood pressure rocket sky high at the mere thought of him.

“Sounds good,” the doctor said, a wide smile on her slightly wrinkled face. “Nice and strong. You’re looking great, Poppy. Your blood pressure is excellent. Weight gain is right on track. Keep doing what you’re doing, and I’ll see you next month, okay?”

I nodded, tugging down my shirt while my mom wiped her face with a handkerchief. “Thank you, Dr. Beal.”

My mom was quiet as we left the office and walked back to her car. I snuck a glance at her profile as she slowly pulled the seat belt around her.

“You okay, Mom?” I asked.

She blinked, but when she looked over at me, she hadn’t quite gotten rid of the lingering sadness I could see there. I reached over and grabbed her hand, squeezing tight while she took a deep breath.

“I was thinking about my appointment with you, actually.” Another tear slid down her cheek, and she dashed it away with a flick of her fingers. “Your dad walked on air the whole week after we heard your heartbeat. He was convinced you were a boy.”

I smiled. “Really? You never told me.”

“That’s because once you were born, and that man heard you cry and the doctor said it was a girl, he was wrapped right around your little pinky.” She smiled, a little bit happier this time. “We all were, honey. You were just what our family needed.”

Something unspoken hid between her sweet words, and I tried to figure out what it was. “What’s making you sad, though, Mom?”

For a moment, she didn’t answer, her gaze pulling away from mine while she stared out the windshield. Her chin quivered for a moment, but she swallowed, then looked back at me.

“This baby is something our family needs too,” she said. Then she took in a big breath. “But I wish you had someone here with you that would walk on air just for hearing that perfect little heartbeat. I hate seeing you do this alone, honey. “

The heavy press of truth clogged my throat and kicked my heartbeat higher.

How long could I keep going without telling them? I’d made a dozen lists, and each one ended up in the same place, with me reaching the same conclusion.

No one could know until I talked to Jax. It wasn’t fair to him.

So I leaned forward, flinging my arms around her shoulders while we both sniffled quietly. “I’m not alone,” I told her. “Not even a little.”

She pulled back, wiping at her face. “You’re right.”

While she gathered herself, fixing the mascara under her eyes, I settled back in my seat and wondered for the millionth time when Jax would ever show his damn face. I’d texted him one other time, another plea for a phone call, and it went undelivered, just like the first.

He’d never been gone this long, and the only comment I heard from Greer was that it was some months-long mountain hike thing that Jax had always wanted to do, and Cameron told him to take as long as he needed and see some of Europe while he was there if he wanted.

Thanks a lot, brother. Give the man a free pass to gallivant all around the world while I stayed at home, guarding the biggest family secret in … forever.

“Want to pick up some cookies or something and go out to the jobsite? Greer said she’d be there all day. We can tell her about the appointment.”

Visiting their build sites wasn’t something I did much of anymore either because I couldn’t stop looking around the corner, hoping I’d see a dark-haired, dark-eyed man appear out of the shadows. And he just didn’t.

With two dozen cookies in hand for the always hungry crew, Mom and I headed downtown to where they were working on the Wilder House store. As our primary investor, Ivy had snagged a prime piece of land just on the end of the main street that ran through downtown Sisters. The frame was up, roof on, drywall in, and they were working on trimming out the interior. The loud buzz of machinery had me smiling as we walked up the front porch and through the wide double doors that would serve as the main entrance.

It was built to look like a barn-shaped house, with tall ceilings and a loft-style upstairs overlooking the bottom level. Ivy’s plans, much like everything else she did, were immaculate, and I couldn’t help but grin at how much it had all changed in the last month since I’d visited. Tucked back into the far corners would be two model kitchens, each with a long stretch of counter to display some of the home goods we were carrying—cutting boards, flatware, plates, and artisan glasses. Right now, they were framing out the skeleton of those kitchens, building in the custom cabinets that would also serve as a sample of what Wilder Homes—our branch dedicated to building custom homes—could do for their residential clients.

Greer popped her head out from a hallway at the back, which led to a couple of offices, the bathrooms, and a private space to meet with clients. Her grin spread wide. “Oooh, cookies. I love when you bring us things.” She yanked off her safety glasses and pulled me in for a sidelong hug. “How was the appointment?”

“Good.”

“Amazing,” Mom corrected. “We heard the heartbeat.”

Greer’s face lit up. “Aw, you did? Can they tell if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

“Definitely a boy,” my brother Ian said, appearing from behind me to snatch a giant chocolate chip cookie.

I swatted his big, dumb hand away when he tried to grab a second one. “Next appointment, if I want to.”

“What’s at the next appointment?” Cameron asked, dropping a kiss on the top of my head and snagging a cookie from the box. When he finished half the giant cookie in one bite, I rolled my eyes .

“Ultrasound,” I told him. “Oh my gosh, did you even chew that? Don’t you have any manners?”

“I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

One of the loud machines from upstairs turned off, so I no longer had to raise my voice to speak over it. “They’ll be able to tell the gender at the next appointment as long as nugget is cooperating.” I ran my hand over my stomach, wishing desperately I could feel them move. “But honestly, I’m not sure I want to find out.”

Greer let out a disappointed groan. “You’re not going to find out? How am I supposed to plan the most epic nursery of all time?”

I fluttered my eyelashes. “Any good interior designer can work with gender neutral, right?”

She gave me a withering stare in return.

A few guys walked past, taking cookies and saying thank you. Only one of them glanced down at my bump with slightly widened eyes.

Sigh.

Here we go.

One of the younger ones gave me a grateful, slightly flirty smile, which had Greer clearing her throat pointedly.

Cameron smothered a laugh with another bite of his cookie. “Can someone go tell Wade and Jax we’ve got cookies?”

My chest turned into a giant block of ice, something almost impossible to breathe through. “Jax?” I whispered.

Cameron gave me a guarded look. “Yeah, he, uh, got back last night. Showed up this morning without any warning, of course.”

Oh good. This was great .

My vision went a little spotty, and I vaguely registered just how fucking horrible it would be if I passed out right there at my brother’s feet.

Some heavy boots came down the stairs from the loft space, and I rubbed at my belly, an undoubtedly nervous gesture. Maybe I could run. Sprint the hell out of the house and figure out a better time to have this little reveal.

Yes. Running was great. Sure, I hadn’t run voluntarily in about five years when an angry swarm of bees was chasing me, but I could easily break that streak with the icy-cold panic coursing through my veins.

I needed out. Now .

My hands fumbled with the box as I tried to push them off at Cameron, but he wasn’t paying attention, and just as a big, broad body came into view in my peripheral vision, the box fell to the floor.

“Hey, watch the cookies,” Cameron said, leaning down to snag them.

My heart was in my fucking throat, thrashing at a rate that could not be good for my blood pressure. Jax hadn’t seen me yet since he was deep in conversation with his coworker Wade.

It wasn’t too late, right? If I hid behind my sister and then bolted through the back, maybe he wouldn’t see me.

Maybe there was a way for me to communicate wordlessly. Just project very strongly with nothing but the power of my gaze for him to keep his cool , and I’d talk to him later when half my family was not in the room with us.

In my head, panicked laughter crowded my brain.

He was here .

Right after my mom gave her big emotional speech about wishing the father was around to experience this with me.

We were about to have an experience, that was for sure.

I couldn’t help it, my eyes drank in the sight of him, greedy for even the slightest bit of how he’d changed in the past few months. His hair was slightly longer, the usual stubbled jaw thick with a dark beard. Like usual, he wore a black T-shirt and worn-in work jeans that molded to his thick thighs. The toolbelt slung low around his slim hips jangled when he came to the bottom step .

He looked good . Heart-stopping, lung-squeezing, if-I-wasn’t-pregnant-already, him-looking-like-this-would-probably-knock-me-up-all-over-again good.

That’s when his gaze snapped to mine.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” I whispered, my voice trembling only the slightest bit. Everyone around us went suspiciously quiet. I felt my sister’s gaze heavy on my face, but I couldn’t possibly look anywhere but Jax.

Those dark, dark eyes traced over my face first, then slowly tracked down to where my hand rested on my stomach and narrowed. His big frame expanded on a sharp inhale and an equally sharp exhale.

“What the fuck , Poppy?”