Chapter 142 (1/2)

Ten minutes later my phone buzzed in my pocket. I read the message to myself and wasn’t sure how Tessa would react to the news. She peered up, her eyes focused on the message before her.

“Addy’s coming,” she read aloud. I held her tighter, and she smiled, a sad smile, and moved from my arms to sit up.

I stared at her for a long while—it felt that way, at least—and we shared the same thought. We both picked ourselves up off the floor of our would-be nursery and put smiles on our faces so we could be there for our best friends.

“We will be parents one day,” I promised my girl as we rode to the hospital to welcome our goddaughter into the world.

A YEAR AFTER THAT

HARDIN

WE HAD JUST DECIDED to take a break from trying to conceive. It was winter, I remember clearly, when Tessa came bouncing into the kitchen. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant bun, and she was dressed in a light pink lace dress. Her makeup was different that day—I couldn’t put my finger on it. She beamed as she approached me, and I slid out the stool I was sitting on and gestured for her to sit on my lap. She leaned against me; her hair smelled like vanilla and mint, and her body was so soft against mine. I pressed my lips to her neck, and she sighed, resting her hands on my parted knees.

“Hi, baby,” I said into her skin.

“Hi, Daddy,” she whispered back to me.

I cocked a brow at her; the way she said Daddy made my cock twitch, and her hands slowly traveled up my thighs.

“Daddy, huh?” My voice was thick, and she giggled, a silly and out-of-place laugh.

“Not the Daddy you’re thinking of. Pervert.” She playfully and gently swatted her hand over the bulge in my pants, and I put my hands on her shoulders to turn her to face me.

She was grinning again—then full-on fucking smiling—and I couldn’t quite connect what she was saying.

“See?” She reached her hand into the front pocket of her dress and pulled something out. It was a piece of paper. I didn’t understand, of course, but I’ve always been known for not getting important shit the first time. She unfolded the paper and placed it in my hand.

“What is that?” I stared at the blurry text on the page.

“You’re ruining this moment so terribly right now,” she scolded me.

I laughed and lifted the paper to my face.

“Urine test positive,” it read.

“Shit.” I gaped, my hand tightening around the paper.