He pulls away with a grin. “Is that your way of saying yes?” He raises a brow, waiting for a reply.
I study his face—the hard planes of his cheek, his green eyes, full lips, and blond hair—and imagine what our child would look like. Which features it would have of him and me, the bits of personality and traits it might grow up to have.
I nod, smiling. “Yes.”
Jace lets out a joyful howl that surprises me. I jump, but he quickly gathers me into his arms and hugs me tight.
He kisses me again and then smiles at me, his eyes happy. I can’t be anything but excited that I’ve a
greed to this. “We’re going to have a baby.”
Hearing those words leave his lips does something to me. I rub his stubbled cheek and whisper back, “We’re going to have a baby.”
A little boy or girl that’s a little bit of the both of us.
Jace sets me down, kisses me quickly, and then smacks my ass. “You’re going to be late for work,” he warns. I look at my phone lying on the kitchen counter and curse. He’s right.
I scurry into the bathroom to shower, apply the barest amount of makeup, and change into jeans and a gray t-shirt. I’m lucky that my place of employment is lenient on dress code and we don’t have uniforms. Perks of working in a record shop.
I grab my bag and say a quick goodbye to Jace who’s already engrossed in writing music.
I wish so much he’d do something with his music, at least sell his songs if he didn’t want to perform on a grand scale.
I head to the elevator and down to the main floor and out, turning down the street toward the record store.
I could drive, but since it’s only a few blocks away I don’t mind the walk. It gives me a chance to think.
It’s a sunny day, and the sky beats down on me, heating my skin.
Owen’s coming in this weekend, and I haven’t told Jace yet. I only found out last week myself, but I normally don’t keep things from him. But since he has a distinct hatred for my ex, I avoid bringing him up. It’s not like he’s here to see me. He wants to visit Greyson.
I contacted him after meeting Greyson, and upon finding out his adoptive parents were so amazingly cool, I wanted Owen to meet our son if he wanted.
Our parents made us feel like our son was our biggest sin when really he was our greatest gift.
It still pains me that I didn’t get to be his mother—take care of him as a baby, experience his first steps, his first falls, learning to talk, riding a bike, first day of school.
I missed it all, but at least I get to be in his life now.
That counts for something—everything.
My phone rings and, speak of the devil, Owen’s name flashes across my screen.
I sigh, not really wanting to talk to him. It’s not like he’s rude or anything, but he’s a reminder of bad times.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to sound peppier than I feel. “What’s up?”
He clears his throat before speaking. “My parents want to come in with me and meet Greyson.”
In the few years that Greyson has been in our lives, neither of our families have made any effort to meet him. In my parents’ defense, it’s not like I really talk to them. Any time I do it ends in anger. I don’t have room in my life for hate so I avoid them.
“Why would they want to do that?” I snap.
Owen sighs as if he expected me to react this way. “I guess they want to meet their grandson.”
“Funny how they didn’t care about that when he was born.” I roll my eyes so sharply I’m surprised they don’t fall out of my head.
“We were young, Nova,” he reminds me. “They didn’t approve.”