Pregnant with My Roommate’s Dad by Sofia T Summers

Epilogue: Maxie - Seven Months and Five Days Later

Although winter wasn’t coming for a few more weeks, that didn’t stop the ice from tapping against the windows. I was all alone in the house. Smelling the large Fraser fir tree propped up in the living room, I was looking for my dumb boots, but I couldn’t remember where I’d kicked them off.

Just a couple of hours ago, I’d been doing laundry and answering client emails. Margo and I eventually convinced Ian to branch out his contracting company into two businesses. Margo managed the larger commercial-grade projects while Ian worked on residential homes and historic preservation. I could tell he was happier being able to work with his hands again. Plus, I had the time to complete the paperwork and marketing projects Ian never enjoyed.

I would never have imagined this was where I’d end up, going to Michigan again for graduate school next fall. It was actually a better program than Appalachian’s, and I could continue on to getting my doctorate if I wanted. Ian seemed entertained by the idea of our being Mr. and Dr. Weiss. We’d gone in circles over the topic, and it appeared that I wouldn’t be able to decide until I finished my master’s degree first.

Whatever path I chose, Ian and I agreed that when the right job came along for me, we’d move down to the house in Blowing Rock. There were two universities and a few community colleges within reasonable driving distance of the house. When one of those places offered me a job, Ian would sell his company to Margo, and he’d start again in North Carolina. Until then, Aunt Jane would live there as long as it was safe, and we’d go down as often as we could.

That was enough for me.

I didn’t worry about plans like I once had. I didn’t have to race through life like death was chasing me down. No matter what my future held, I knew I’d have happiness. I was content as I was, and I’d learned to enjoy the small moments of my day.

One of those small moments was spending my Friday cleaning up the house and humming along to holiday music. I’d just reached down into the dryer to pull out the last of our clothes hiding in the back of the machine. With one stretch, I could feel a trickle of fluid running down my leg.

My water broke, and all hell broke loose with it.

When I called Ian, he instantly started panicking. His baritone voice went from zero to one hundred in a single heartbeat.

“Have you already started having contractions?” he interrogated me over the phone.

“Yeah,” I replied, packing my suitcase.

“When?”

“A little before eight this morning.”

“What?” he fumed. “Maxie, why didn’t you say anything? We were having breakfast then! I could’ve stayed home!”

“Sorry!” I huffed. “I thought they were another false alarm until my water broke, and I did not want to relive the emergency room visit of Thanksgiving weekend. You scared the hell out of those nurses in Boone.”

“When your very-pregnant wife starts complaining of pain in the middle of Black Friday shopping,” he reminded me, getting temperamental, “it can worry a man, Maxie.”

“I’m not your wife,” I reminded him.

“Well, you will be eventually,” he countered. “Who cares what I call you?”

“Me,” I answered curtly. “The laws of Michigan.”

“Jesus, Maxie, just sit tight,” he insisted. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

“An hour?”

I didn’t have any intention of waiting around the house for him. My bag was packed. I called the hospital to alert them of my pending arrival. I even took one last decent shower in our shower upstairs. As soon as I could find my shoes, I was heading to the hospital, even if I had to call a cab. Ian would just have to meet me there.

Finally finding my little rubber boots in the office, I wasn’t sure when or why I’d taken them off in there. Pregnancy brain had been doing that to me. When I hit the eight-month marker, it was like my baby started playing tricks on me. My belly ballooned out, making me feel like a whale. I was constantly forgetting simple things, and I always had to take a nap after lunch. The worst of all was being unable to put on my shoes like a normal person.

I shuffled back into the living room, glancing over to the blank fir tree sitting by the fireplace. We’d gone out for dinner yesterday and happened to stop at a tree lot by chance. The plan had been to spend our Saturday dressing it up with lights and our shared collection of ornaments, but that definitely wasn’t happening. I highly doubted the hospital would let me leave early just to finish my holiday decorating.

“Okay, boots,” I grumbled. “You’re going on my feet!”

Lying back on our burgundy sofa, I lifted my leg in the air until I could actually see my foot. It took all my effort to stretch around my stomach until finally, I slid the evergreen rubber boot on in a huff.

“Maxie!” I heard that familiar high voice call out. “I got your text! Where are you?”

Brandy, dressed in her yellow pea coat and a navy suit, came barreling into the room with wide eyes. Her name tag was still pinned to her blazer. At our graduation party, I’d mentioned to Margo’s fiancée, Liz, that Brandy was an excellent party planner. I had no idea that passing comment would lead to Brandy’s working as an assistant event coordinator under Liz. Brandy now had a nice apartment downtown and a good boyfriend in Leo.

Even as I looked at her upside-down, it was nice to see how far my best friend had come.

“I need help getting my boots on,” I lamented.

I was going to be twenty-three in two weeks. I shouldn’t have needed someone else to put my shoes on for me.

“Okay,” she said while quickly helping me. “Where’s your bag?”

“Upstairs on the bed.”

Brandy ran to my bedroom, and I grabbed my tan maternity coat from the kitchen. Her footsteps hustled back to the kitchen in a fury.

Looking around in realization, she asked, “Wait, where’s Dad?”

I shrugged. “Somewhere on the road. He was meeting Margo at some new work site, and it was out of the county. I’m calling him to let him know that he can meet us at the hospital.”

“Wait,” Brandy squealed in shock. “You can’t fit in my backseat. Are you expecting me to drive your Jeep?”

“Yes!” I huffed, growing impatient. “It’s not even a mile to the hospital, Brandy. You’ll survive.”

“But–but,” she stammered, “I’m terrible at driving big cars! They make me feel like I’m going to hit something, and there’s ice on the road from the sleet!”

“That’s why we need to take my car,” I insisted. “Ian put the winter tires on the Jeep, and the car seat is already installed. If I could fit behind the wheel, I’d drive myself.”

“No,” Brandy refused. “You’re not supposed to be near airbags.”

“Right,” I agreed, tossing her my keys. “So, you’re driving.”

Impatient to get to the hospital, I quickly flicked off the light over the sink before shuffling outside. Ice hit my face as I hurried around the yard to reach the front porch. Stupid pregnancy brain. I should’ve walked through the house.

“What are you doing?” Brandy yelled out.

“Turning on the Christmas lights,” I answered loudly. “I don’t want the house to look dark while we’re gone.”

The Jeep had rumbled to life by the time I made it back to the carport. Brandy helped me into the backseat with my bag. I couldn’t tell if her hands were shaking from the cold or nerves.

“Am I gonna have to call an ambulance for you?” I asked her as she climbed into the driver’s seat. “You look like you're about to have a conniption.”

“I–I can do this,” she swore feebly. “I’m a strong, independent woman. For you, I can drive this monster truck.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” I encouraged.

We backed up ten feet before she squealed and lurched the vehicle to a halt. I had to grab the door handle for support. Listening to Jingle Bell Rock play on the radio, the song sounded too chipper for the tension in the car.

“Oh, my God,” she squealed in her high-pitched voice. “How do you drive this thing?”

“By pushing the gas pedal and steering with the wheel,” I replied slowly.

Brandy cut her eyes at me. “Just because you’re in labor doesn’t mean you can be sassy.”

I shrugged, rubbing a hand over my baby belly. “Blame the hormones.”

At Brandy’s glacial speed, the baby was going to be born before we ever made it to the hospital. I’d never been so relieved to see Ian’s annoyed expression as he reached Brandy’s window. She was driving so slowly, he was able to walk beside the car. His steel-blue eyes pierced through the foggy glass.

“Get out, Brandy,” he demanded quickly.

Throwing the Jeep into park, Brandy exclaimed with relief, “Oh, my God, yes!”

She ran around to the passenger’s seat as Ian climbed in. He turned around to frown at me as Brandy buckled up.

“I can’t believe you were going to leave without me, Maxie,” he complained.

“You said you were an hour away,” I reminded him.

He shook his head, brooding. “It takes you thirty minutes to put on your shoes.”

Crossing my arms, I wanted to pout, but a contraction came. I breathed through the pain like the obnoxious birthing-class instructor had taught me. Ian’s annoyance quickly shifted into panicked concern.

“Are you okay, Maxie?” Ian asked, taking off for the hospital.

“Yes,” I replied raggedly. “I’ll feel better when I’m settled into the hospital room.”

“I can pull over!” he suggested, his nerves getting the better of him.

How was I the calmest person in the car? My uterus was painfully forcing itself open for a small person to pass through me, yet I was the one who wasn’t talking crazy.

“No,” I shot back. “I’m not having my baby in this car!”

There wasn’t even a chance of that. After six more hours of labor and a variety of muttered curse words, my child finally entered the world. The blue-eyed baby was seven pounds of pink perfection. I couldn’t stop staring at the precious being Ian and I had created.

Bringing her dad a second cup of coffee from the cafeteria, Brandy beamed at the sight of her sleeping baby brother. Ian, weary-eyed and smiling, took the cup with gratitude. He only took his eyes off me and our son long enough to stir some sugar into his drink.

I thought Ian looked at me lovingly before, but the pride and adoration on his tired face made every other expression pale in comparison.

“Thanks, Angel,” he whispered.

“How did the first feeding go?” Brandy asked, sitting down in the chair next to Ian.

“When he finally stopped fussing, he latched like a champ,” I murmured. “He had his dinner, and then he passed out.”

Brandy giggled. “He already sounds like Dad.”

My little boy nuzzled himself deeper into my neck, seeming to enjoy the warmth of my bare skin. I didn’t know how I would ever stand having him anywhere else but safe in my hands. I gently stroked his back, and the faint feeling of his breath tickled me.

“You kept the gender a secret,” Brandy remarked. “Do you have a name?”

“Well, we ended up using our fathers’ names,” Ian replied.

“Elijah for my dad, and Lucas for Ian’s,” I murmured, kissing the top of my son’s head. “But you can call him Eli.”

“Eli,” Brandy gushed. “It’s perfect.”

My little Eli was perfect. On a gray Sunday morning, the Christmas lights were still shining to welcome us all back to the house. The icicle lights and sparkling bushes were magical against the bleak weather, not that Eli noticed. He wiped out on the car ride home. I was about to take him up to his bassinet upstairs by our bed when Ian stopped me.

“I want to show you something first,” he declared.

With Eli asleep in my arms, I followed him back down to the larger bedroom where Brandy had once stayed. My old room was a guest space, while this bigger room was now dressed up as a forest-themed nursery. I’d picked out the woodland wallpaper and had the rocking chair from my childhood bedroom refinished in emerald velvet. The toys and books people had gifted us were already tucked away in the cupboard beside Eli’s closet. That too was filled with all kinds of diapers and clothes for the next two years of his life.

I’d just never seen the dark-wood crib set between the two windows.

“I made it as a little surprise,” Ian told me proudly. “I knew you wanted something to match your old dresser and chair, and it seemed the best way was to make it myself. Whenever Eli learns to sleep through the night, it will be ready for him.”

“It’s perfect, Ian,” I murmured, trying not to cry. “Thank you.”

“Maxie,” he said with a smile, “there are not enough words to express how grateful I am to have you and Eli in my life. This crib . . . it’s nothing compared to what you’ve given me.”

With his hand against my cheek, Ian kissed me with all the love a man could possibly possess. I knew he wasn’t my husband yet, but no piece of paper would change his unending devotion. No ceremony would make Ian any more wonderful.

“You know what I’d really like right now?” I whispered.

“What?”

I sighed. “Until I have to feed Eli in an hour, I want to lie down with you and close my eyes. Trying to sleep in that hospital bed was almost impossible.”

“I think we can manage that.” Ian chuckled softly. “Come on, honey.”

I took careful steps up to our bedroom before nestling Eli down into his rattan bassinet. Ian switched on the bedroom fireplace as I crawled into our bed.

My whole world was now twisted around Eli’s tiny fingers, and I didn’t mind. We were all safe together in our sanctuary. I admired Eli swaddled up and quietly sleeping through the bassinet frame, tufts of dark hair sticking out from under his knit cap. I felt Ian’s protective arm braced around me. This was all I’d ever wanted.

Finally, I’d come home.

If you enjoyed Pregnant with My Roommate’s Dad, you are going to love ‘Secretly Dating Mr. Hot Stuff.’

When you spot a younger guy at your sister’s wedding, there are a few things that you don’t do.

For example, you don’t sleep with him.

Especially if that hot younger guy is your brother-in-law’s best friend.

But one night couldn’t hurt.

I was never going to see him again, right?

Wrong.

Zephram “Zero” Isaac James appeared right back into my life.

Only this time, he wasn’t a one-night stand.

He became a secret relationship.

Top secret.

Just like my messy past.

Turns out, he had secrets of his own.

Things that he’d rather not tell me about his powerful family.

Well, I was right up there with him with my own secrets.

My abusive ex.

The danger surrounding me.

And my growing belly.

Oh, he’s going to flip once he finds out.

If he does… Because my life is in danger.

Can he be the one to save me first?

Read Secretly Dating Mr. HotStuff in Kindle Unlimited NOW!!

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Keep reading for a preview of SEAL DADDY, an Amazon Top 50 bestseller from my bestselling Forbidden Temptations series.