“I can’t show the viewers the centerfold for obvious reasons, but Mr. Mayor, there are some very revealing photos of a woman named Ginny Malone inside. Is it true that this Ms. Malone is your new girlfriend?”
I hold my breath, my heart racing as I look down at my small bump, unable to continue looking at the TV. Oh god, oh god, the sword’s about to drop and I cringe, expecting Jeremiah to deny my very existence to the world.
But only a beat of silence passes before my boyfriend speaks, and to my surprise, it isn’t the carefully curated answer that I expected to hear.
“Yes, that’s right,” he answers in a smooth tone. “Ginny Malone’s my girlfriend. But Ms. Malone isn’t just a model. She’s also a long-haul trucker with a fulfilling, lucrative career on the road. Yes, she posed for a trucker magazine, but it was a savvy career decision on her part. As the first female trucker to be featured in a spread, she’s gotten a lot of exposure and plans to use this as an opportunity to further her personal brand, not to mention her business interests.”
I stare at the screen, slack-jawed. OMG, did my man just defend me? Did he stand up for me in front of a huge audience, and really the entire world? But it’s true as Jeremiah continues to speak.
“Politics are so partisan these days, and I’m sure the opposition will seize at anything to discredit me. But the fact is that everyone should be able to date whom they want, no matter their color, stripe, or political persuasion. In this case, I happen to be dating a wonderful woman with a good head on her shoulders and who knows what she wants from life. So yes, I’m with Virginia Malone, and I’m proud of it,” he states in a firm tone.
There is no way to describe the feeling that crashes over me because I feel like the clouds have parted and the Heavens have opened. Suddenly, all that was muddled and confusing becomes blindingly clear because I love this man, and he loves me too. Jeremiah’s not ashamed to be seen with a girl whom many consider under-educated, low-class, and blue collar. Instead, I’m the one he loves, and he’s proud to be with me. With tears in my eyes, I cradle my stomach, staring at the tiny bump that has only started to form.
“It’s going to be okay, sweetheart,” I murmur in a low voice. “Mommy loves Daddy, and it seems that Daddy loves Mommy too. We’ll find a way for you.”
With that, I turn off the TV, and then switch off the lights, settling into my bed with a deep, satisfied exhale. For the first time in weeks, instead of tossing and turning anxiously while wondering about what comes next, I settle into a peaceful slumber. This is going to work out, and my lashes drift shut because it’s time to tell my boyfriend that he’s going to be a daddy, and that me and the baby are coming home for good.
12
GINNY
One week later.
I have to remind myself to breathe as I cut the engine and pull my car keys out of the ignition. The Jetta stills to silence, and I take a deep breath, collecting my thoughts. Am I ready to talk with Jeremiah? It feels like the most important conversation I’ve had in my life, and in some ways, it is.
Walking up the long pathway to my boyfriend’s front door seems to take much longer than it usually does, but I’m a heady mix of joy and anticipation, as well as still being a little worried. After all, I’m about to tell him that he’s going to be a father, and that’s something we definitely didn’t plan on. Meeting at a glory hole had an unexpected consequence, and now it’s time to be true and honest.
I step onto the porch of his ranch-style home, and take a deep breath before lifting my fist to knock. The door swings open, and immediately, my handsome man breaks into a surprised smile. He looks gorgeous as always, dressed in a blue sweater which highlights his broad shoulders, and jeans that hang just so off those lean hips.
“Sweetheart, come in. What are you doing here? I thought you were still on that job?”
But before I can get a word out, Jeremiah pulls me close for a long, drugging kiss. I can’t help but moan a bit as his hands trail my body, sensuously skimming over my ripe curves.
“Mm, you taste sweet, baby. Come in.”
I feel relieved and as he pulls me into the living room, shutting the front door behind us, my heart decelerates a bit as my worries melt. It’s going to be fine. This man adores me, and I’m the bearer of good news, not bad. But he still doesn’t know, and regards me with inquisitive blue eyes.