My Fake Husband Black, L. (year 2 reading books TXT) 📖

“I know it’s not a hundred percent effective, but this is just embarrassing. I’m thirty-four years old, single and in debt.”

“Excuse me. You’re not single. You’re married. To the father of your baby. Isn’t that, like, the ideal way to get pregnant?”

“It’s not a real marriage and you know it.”

“Seems like there was a lot of fucking going on for it to be in name only,” she snorted.

“I’m buying you a bag of potatoes, I swear to God,” I said.

“What is your problem?”

“My problem is I’m standing in my sister’s bathroom looking at two positive pregnancy tests. My problem is this was an accident. My problem is I’m in love with a man who doesn’t love me and who only married me as a huge favor and we’re getting divorced in a few months. How can I tell him I’m pregnant? He’ll want to stay married to me out of obligation and then, bam. I ruined his chances of ever being happy.”

“He’s not unhappy. Men who have that much sex are not unhappy. My husband is lucky to get it once a week and he’s happy.”

“Too much information, and, again, absolutely not helpful.”

“I am very helpful. I gave you those pregnancy tests, didn’t I? I had them in my cabinet from when we were trying to get pregnant a couple years ago.”

“Fine, so you have a fully stocked bathroom cabinet and no sympathy for your knocked up sister,” I grumbled.

“You are the grouchiest pregnant woman I ever met,” Kiera said. “And you just have to tell him the truth. You didn’t plan this. It just happened.”

“He’ll think I’m trying to trap him. I have to divorce him before he finds out.”

Kiera rolled her eyes. “Be a grown-up, please. I’ve known him all my life just like you have. He’s not that kind of guy. Tell him the truth and trust him to know you wouldn’t try to trap him. He called you. Call him back. Tell him.”

“I can’t tell him this over the phone. I’m embarrassed enough as it is. Then I call him and say, what? I was screening because I peed on a stick and congratulations you’re going to be a father?”

“That’s classy. Say that about the pee.”

“I’ll just have to tell him when I get home tomorrow. Which means I should go lay awake until morning and then drive home.”

“If you stay awake all night you’ll be even crazier than you are now. Take a bath, get some sleep.”

“I’m sorry I’m acting psycho,” I said. “Thank you for putting up with me.”

“I love you, you psycho,” she said and hugged me. “And I’m going to be an aunt! Finally! I’m going to go buy every loud baby toy there is and a bunch of batteries to pay you back for that Baby Shark thing you got Max last year. I hope your baby gets up in the middle of the night and demands waffles just like he does. And plays with loud toys when you just want to go back to sleep.”

“Don’t put a curse on me. I’ve got enough drama right now,” I said and shooed her out so I could shower.

The whole time I was under the hot water, I kept thinking awful things. He’s going to be upset. He’s never going to trust me again. He’s never going to touch me again. I’ll be trapped in a heartbreaking, sexless marriage because I accidentally got pregnant from screwing my fake husband’s brains out for weeks. I was like my own episode of a Jerry Springer show.

22 Damon

In the morning, after a restless night, I checked my phone and saw I didn’t have any messages from Trixie. That didn’t sit right with me, and I decided to call her, just to see if she was okay. I was ready to dial when I got a message from her. Sorry I missed your call was asleep. You ok? Flight comes in at five.

I’ll pick you up, was all I replied.

Laura and the baby were fine, but we’d all been scared. No one more so than Brody.

I couldn’t get it out of my head, everything Brody went through last night. How horrible that fear would be. I couldn’t shake it. I worked out. I did some laundry and went to the library and took some lunch to my parents. They kept asking about her, about how her visit was with her sister. I didn’t know what to tell them. I just said she was having a great time, because I didn’t want to say, oh she didn’t bother to call me back last night. We were all relieved about Laura and the baby, and I could tell my mom hadn’t slept much either. She was going over to see them later and I said to let me know if they needed anything.

Later, I got ready and went to pick up Trixie. I felt grim, like I looked forward to seeing her but I was uncomfortable, too. Something about her not messaging or calling, about saying she was asleep and not bothering to call, just texting her flight info—it didn’t seem like her. It was inconsiderate, and she wasn’t an inconsiderate person. I knew her well enough to say that for sure. She was sometimes bashful and awkward, usually stubborn, but she wasn’t unkind. So I felt like something was off in my universe.

When she came out of baggage claim, she hung back a little like she was suddenly shy. I gave her a hug, kissed her briefly. I had missed her, but I knew stuff wasn’t right between us. She acted like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. The woman who usually stuck her hand in my back pocket whenever I put my arm around her was fidgety, diffident. I felt the unusual quiet. She wasn’t bursting with stories about Max or about Kiera. She wasn’t saying much of anything.

In the truck, on the long drive home from the nearest airport, I