Page 87 of Beautiful Crazy
“Thanks for taking me, Everett,” Sutton calls out a few minutes into our drive.
“Anytime, bud.” I flick my gaze up to the rearview mirror. “Thanks for letting me help you practice.”
He takes a big chunk out of the top of the swirl. Kid must have teeth of steel. “I was nervous when the season started,” he admits, but doesn’t elaborate.
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
Looking out the window, he says, “I haven’t played a lot, and when I did, I wasn’t very good. The other kids all have dads to practice with, and well, I don’t.”
My heart aches for him. I know he was young and probably doesn’t remember much about him, but I’d have to imagine it still affects him on some level.
“But now I have you to practice with,” he goes on. “And that’s kind of like having a dad.” I swallow around the lump in my throat, turning onto our street. “And you’re definitely more fun to play withthan Mom. She kind of stinks at baseball.” Laughter spills out of me as I meet his gaze in the mirror. He chuckles and adds, “What? She does!”
“I’ll take your word for it, buddy.” I pull into my driveway, putting the car in park before taking a big lick of my quickly melting cone. This was a terrible idea. “Your mom is amazing at so many things, so I think it’s okay if she’s not the best at baseball.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Hey, look!” I turn my head, following in the direction he’s pointing. “My aunt Georgia is here!”
We climb out—him quicker than me—and make our way over to his yard where Gemma and her sister are sitting on the front steps, smiles wide on both of their faces as he approaches, showing them his ice cream cone.
Gemma’s gaze finds mine, and she wrinkles her nose before I lean in and press a kiss to her lips. “Ice cream before dinner, Mr. Windward. What am I going to do with you?”
Keeping my voice low so only she can hear me, I shrug my shoulders and say, “Punish me?”
She breathes out a laugh, rolling her eyes dramatically as I wink at her.
“Mom, Aunt Georgia asked if I could spend the night at her house tonight so we can go kiting tomorrow morning. Can I?”
Gemma rises to her feet, stretching her arms over her head as she pretends to think about it. “Well, I don’t know…” Walking inside the house, she comes back a moment later with his rolling suitcase. “I suppose that would be okay.”
“Yay! Thank you, Mom!” Sutton climbs up the stairs, wrapping an arm around her waist, hugging her tightly.
“Let’s get going then, kid,” Georgia says, brushing her hand through the messy strands atop his head. She meets my gaze for a minute, a grin tugging on her lips before she looks back at her nephew. “I may or may not have that macaroni you like at my house.” Glancing back at her sister, she smiles. “Text me later.”
“Okay, bye, you two,” Gemma calls out, waving. “Sutton, make sure you mind your manners.”
As soon as they’re out of sight, I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her into me as I press a kiss on her lips. Something I’ve been waiting to do all damn day.
“Looks like you had a change of clothes,” she murmurs as we pull apart, and she drags her gaze down to my shirt that’snotstained with chocolate before we head inside her house.
Chuckling, I say, “I didn’t, but I was able to run home quickly and grab one before class started.”
We stroll into the living room, and somewhere between the front door and her sitting down on the couch, I can tell something is off. Gemma pulls her feet up, tucking them underneath herself as she watches me sit down beside her.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, feeling the panic rise in my chest.
Her throat constricts as she swallows, and she’s fidgeting with her hands in her lap. “Well, I don’t think anything’s wrong, but I do need to talk to you about something,” she says softly.
“Gemma, what’s going on?” I grab her hand, holding itin mine. “You’re freaking me out. Are you okay? Is Sutton okay?”
Nodding, she brings her other hand up to cup my cheek. “Everett, we’re okay, I promise.” She breathes out a laugh. “I’m sorry, I’m nervous and not doing this the right way.”
My heart hammers inside my chest as my mind spins. “Doing what the right way? Are you breaking up with me?”
Her dark eyes widen as they fly to mine. “God no,” she blurts out, visibly flustered. “Everett, I’m pregnant.”
We watch each other for several long moments, my stomach clear in my throat as her words register in my head. “You’re… pregnant?”
Pressure builds behind my eyes, and I feel my hands start to tremble.