“I can’t believe I’m growing a human,” I say with a laugh, wiping at my eyes.
“A perfect tiny human,” Raven comments, still refusing to tear her gaze from the screen.
“Well, Momma, it’s a boy!” the tech announces with a smile.
“A boy,” I whisper.
“A boy aunt,” Raven says, finally looking at me. The tears that were shimmering in her eyes are now racing down her cheeks. “A baby boy,” she says, leaning in to hug me.
I hug her back, holding on a little longer than necessary. I’m having a boy. Will he look like his daddy? Will he have his dark brown hair and his big blue eyes?
“You’re all set,” the tech says. “Here are some paper towels to clean up. The doctor will be in a few to answer any final questions you might have.”
“Thank you.”
The door is barely shut when Raven stands and dances around the room. “Baby boy Burke!” She cheers. “We’re going to lunch to celebrate, and we need to get the gang together. When can we do that?” she asks as she rambles on.
“This weekend?”
“Tonight?” she counters.
“This weekend is better. I’m tired. I really want to go home and get some rest for the workweek.” We close the salon on Sundays and Mondays, which makes it nice for all of my appointments, that is until I start going twice a week closer to the end, but we have some time before that happens.
“Fine. This weekend. How in the hell am I going to keep this quiet until then?”
Grabbing my phone, I start a group text including everyone except for Clayton and Hudson, ignoring the ache that causes.
Me: It’s a boy!
My phone beeps like crazy with each reply of congratulations and the guys bragging about who’s going to teach him what. I’m truly blessed to have them in my life. Our friends are the family we chose, and we made a damn good choice.
I’ve done nothing but toss and turn since I came to bed three hours ago. So much for getting rest. I can’t stop thinking about Hudson. Maybe he didn’t get my letter? I know that’s possible, so I’ll send another one. I’ll give him one more shot to acknowledge the miracle we made.
Climbing out of bed, I make my way to the kitchen, grab a notebook and pen from the drawer, sit at the island, and start to write.
Hudson,
This is my second letter to you. The first I sent several months ago. This one is going to say pretty much the same thing, so here goes.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for so many things. First, running out on you the night of your party. I was scared. I didn’t know if you would remember our night together, and I was worried it wouldn’t have happened had you not been drinking, and I couldn’t handle the rejection. Not from you. Not when I’ve loved you for years.
Yeah, that’s the second thing. I’ve crushed on you since we were kids, and now here we are as adults, and that crush is so much more. I hate that I’m telling you this in a letter, but you're gone, and it’s on my list, so there it is.
Third. I saw that I missed calls from you that morning. I came home, put in my earplugs, turned my phone off, and crashed. I just wanted a little time, time we didn’t have because I didn’t get to say goodbye to you. I’m sorry about that.
And finally, this is the big one. It’s something I don’t want to write. I’d rather be telling you in person, but here we are. Hudson, I’m pregnant. We’re having a baby—a baby boy. I’m twenty weeks along, and the baby and I are both healthy.
I’m sorry to tell you like this, but I want you to know that I’m prepared to raise him on my own. I don’t need anything from you, but I want you to know and give you a choice. Please know that I don’t expect you to be with me because of our son. Yes, I love you, but I’m a big girl. I know a baby does not mean that we’re going to live happily ever after. It does, however, mean we’re going to be parents.
I haven’t told anyone about our night together. Raven thinks it’s a random guy I dated who doesn’t really exist. It’s a long story, one I’d be happy to tell you when I see you. That is if you’re interested.
I hope to hear from you.
All my love,
Riley and baby boy
CHAPTER 14
Hudson
“My bones actually hurt,” Clayton says as we walk into the shack.
“This was your idea,” I remind him.
“You don’t realize how much you miss the comforts of home or take them for granted,” he says, plopping down on his bed. “This fucking bed,” he groans as he twists and turns, trying to get comfortable.