Four Rancher's Bride (Love by Numbers 3) - Page 32

“I met someone,” I admitted. “I think I’m falling in love with her.

“Well, you’re going to have to bring her around for dinner soon,” she said. “I’d like to meet the woman who has captured your heart. She has to be pretty special.”

“She is,” I admitted. “She’s incredible.”

Mom smiled, happy for me. “You’ll have to bring those hunky white boys too. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them.”

I rolled my eyes at that.

“Can I ask you something, Seki?” she asked.

“Mom, you can ask me anything. You know that.”

“You’re right. The two of us have always had a very honest and open relationship with each other.”

I nodded, wondering what her question could be.

“Is your girlfriend with Hank, Ben, and Ace too?” she asked. When she saw my face, she added, “Oh, don’t look so surprised. A mother knows her son.”

I didn’t say anything, still too stunned to speak.

“Okay, so I was just guessing,” she admitted. “About a year ago, I overheard a woman talking to her friend about how she’d just had the most incredible time having sex with ‘those four hot guys from the ranch.’ It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”

There was no use lying to my mom. Not that I wanted to. If, hopefully when, things got more serious with Jada, I planned to tell her anyway.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“That’s okay,” Mom said. “I’m not here to judge you. And I’m not going to judge another woman for how she finds happiness. You’re all adults and, as long as you’re happy, Seki, I’m happy too.”

My mom really was an amazing person.

“So,” she began, “do you have a picture of your Jada?”

I grabbed my phone so quickly that I ended up fumbling it.

One day while Jada and I were working together, I noticed she wasn’t as talkative as she normally was. Her eyes looked tired and she was a little green around the gills.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“My stomach is upset,” she admitted. “I don’t think the chorizo in the breakfast burritos is sitting well with me.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, giving her hand a squeeze. “I should have asked if you liked chorizo before I made them.”

“I do like chorizo. It’s never bothered me in the past.”

“Hm,” I said, and then told her if she didn’t feel better, she could go lie down.

She shrugged my suggestion off. “Oh, no, I’ll be fine. It’ll pass.”

It passed, but not for long. About halfway through the day, she ran over to the trashcan we kept in the bar and threw up her lunch.

Afterward, she said she felt a lot better. She went inside to brush her teeth and came back outside to work.

“I’m not nauseous anymore, but I took some Pepto just in case.” She did look better, her eyes brighter and her color back to normal.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. “Okay,” I said, and let it go.

When we were done for the day, Jada decided to relax in the bath until dinner. I called up to her when dinner was almost ready. She came downstairs a few minutes later, looking off once again.

Her eyes darted to the plate of steaks Hank just brought in from the grill, and she grimaced. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “Do you need any help?”

“Can you grab the plates?” Ace asked, pulling the mac and cheese from the oven.

“Sure.” She went over to the cupboard and grabbed five plates. I watched as Jada thrust them onto the counter and dashed from the room. Seconds later, Ace and I listened as she threw up again.

We shared a loaded look.

I put on the tea kettle to make her some peppermint tea to help soothe her stomach. When it was ready, I went to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she said. Her voice sounded dull.

I opened the door and was assaulted with the smell of vomit. Ignoring it, I crouched down in front of where she leaned against the bathtub.

“What’s going on, Jada?” I asked.

Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m scared, Seki.”

“I know,” I said, setting the tea on the sink and settling in next to her. I wrapped my arms around her and she leaned into me.

“I hope to God it isn’t what I think it is.”

But she was. I just knew in my heart that she was.

Pregnant.

Jada

I couldn’t be pregnant. I just couldn’t be.

I was on the pill and had been since I was sixteen. I’d never even had a pregnancy scare before, unlike Sascha and some of the other women I knew. It all seemed impossible.

I didn’t understand how I could be so careless. My doctor had told me that no form of birth control was ever one-hundred percent effective. The pill, she’d told me, was about ninety-nine percent effective if taken correctly. Searching my brain, I couldn’t think of a single time when I’d forgotten to take it or took it late.

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