A delicious shiver slid down my spine as I inhaled and caught the scent of pine and man.
Most likely, he used some boring soap, but that boring soap did wonderous things on his delectable body.
“And there is…” she paused. “His or her tush.”
I snickered.
“Looks like it’s a girl!”
I grinned, unable to help myself.
I’d wanted a girl.
Actually, that wasn’t quite true.
I’d wanted a boy, until my sister jokingly told me that I would have to deal with a boy and boners when they went through puberty.
Now I wanted girls.
For the next ten minutes we went through all the cuteness overload, eventually printing off a photo of her face, her feet, and what the sonographer said was a vagina that really only looked like a butt to me.
But I wasn’t the expert.
After I was once again situated, Fran took one side, and Murphy took the other, as they helped me stand to my feet.
It physically hurt to walk.
And by the time I was outside, I could already see blood soaking the bandage.
We’d have to go straight home.
“Unfortunately,” I said, “we can’t go buy clothes.” I pointed at my knees.
“Clothes?” Murphy asked.
I pointed at my belly next. “Now that I know what she is, I need to prepare.”
Murphy looked at my belly.
“I thought for sure it would be a boy,” Murphy said. “In my head, that’s what I was calling him. A boy. Guess I’ll have to get used to it being a girl.”
He almost seemed disappointed. “Girls are cool, too, Murph!”
I grinned at my sister’s words. “Yeah. Girls are cool, too, Alessio.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll see y’all later. Try not to trip over any more curbs as you watch my ass move away from you.”
Then, I did just that, as I watched him walk away.
Well, not trip over any curbs. But I did watch his ass.
“You totally like him,” Fran whispered.
“No, I don’t,” I lied. “I like Madden.”
My sister frowned. “Do you really?”
I shrugged.
I mean, not like I liked Murphy, but he was a very attractive guy.
And her thinking Madden caught my fancy served a purpose. What purpose, you ask?
Keeping my nosey sister out of my business.
CHAPTER 6
The world would be a nicer place if everyone took a chill pill. It’d be a great place if a few of those people choked on it.
-Mavis to Murphy
MAVIS
2 months later
The last person that I wanted to see was him.
Especially when I was going into labor and there was a high likelihood that he’d be seeing my coochie here in a second.
I watched him walk toward my car, then a contraction hit me hard, and I forgot all about who was around me, because the pain overtook every single aspect of my brain.
Holy shit, having babies hurt!
I’d always assumed that I would be in a hospital with the good drugs when my time came. Not in the middle of the road, with no one around but the damn town mechanic that hated me.
I was hunched over my steering wheel when the tap on the door came.
I was in the middle of the road.
Honestly, I was lucky that someone hadn’t hit me yet.
I had a flat tire.
I also had no spare.
Why did I have no spare?
Because last week, when I’d taken my car to get it inspected, the tires rotated, and everything ‘ready’ for a baby to be here any day, I’d had a slow-leaking flat.
Since Murphy didn’t do slow-leaking flats, or tires at all, he’d switched out my tire with the spare and told me to go get it fixed.
Only…I hadn’t.
And now I was on the side of the road, with a flat on the donut tire he told me not to ride around on for long, and in labor.
How did I know I was in labor?
When I bent down to inspect my tire, a massive whoosh of water had left from between my legs, soaking my shorts, my socks, and my tennis shoes.
Luckily, I had a plastic trash bag that I could lay on my seat.
Unluckily, when my phone had gone to call out—Jesus Christ, why did I live so far out of town?—I’d been in a dead zone.
I’d been hoping for the last thirty minutes that someone would stop—someone that wasn’t a complete creepo—but I’d had to send the one and only car that’d stopped along because he’d looked a little too serial killer to me.
Out of everyone I’d been hoping to come by, Alessio Murphy Romano would’ve been last on my list.
Because, he’d gotten worse since the time I’d seen him at the hospital, and I didn’t know why.
When I’d arrived last week to get my car checked out, he’d been in the middle of a heated conversation with his mother about something—him not trying hard enough about something—and he hadn’t heard me come inside until I cleared my throat.
After he’d left me in the office to go get changed so he could take me home and I could leave my car with him, his mom had made it sound like Murphy was sick. But wouldn’t tell me how.