It hurt more than I imagined.
And this emptiness hurts more than I imagined as well.
“Evan, meet your amazing Aunt Sophie,” Chloe says as she hands me my nephew. “But I think you already know her quite well.” She winks.
I inspect his little nose and tiny fingers at his mouth.
After a while, Mason leaves the room to call his parents and ours while Chloe falls in love with her son. I get acquainted with a breast pump. We agreed I’d pump as long as it was sustainable. Of course, I had no idea it would be this “fun.” And by fun, I mean I feel like a barnyard animal.
“If Mason walks in here while I’m doing this, I will never be able to look him in the eye again. As is, I know he snuck a peek at his baby coming out of my vagina.”
Chloe snorts while swaying back and forth with Evan in her arms. She’s a natural. I know this loneliness, this emptiness, will not last long. I have too many wonderful people in my life to fill it.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Yesterday, Shep dropped off my bag and the baby blanket that I crocheted, but I was asleep. Nobody woke me, so he left because he needed to return to his pack of dogs and my Cersei.
Me: Hi
I accidentally press send on the text to Shep instead of finishing what I was going to say. He texts back before I can finish.
Shep: Fine. Thank you.
I snort and quickly cover my mouth because Chloe’s in the chair sleeping while Mason paces the room with Evan in his arms.
Me: I’m being discharged. Want to pick me up and take me to my abandoned car in the Trader Joe’s parking lot? If you’re not busy. If you are, don’t worry about it. I’ll have Mason take me or see if Jules can do it.
Shep: Sophie?
Me: What?
Shep: I’ve been in the waiting room since six this morning.
“What?” I whisper to myself, staring at the screen. Already dressed, I ease off the side of the bed.
“Where are you going?” Mason whispers.
“Waiting room. Be right back. Tell the nurse I didn’t jump ship.”
I make a snail’s trek toward the waiting room. Shep’s nowhere in sight because he’s hidden behind a huge bouquet of pink flowers. He sets them on a table and meets me halfway.
“I have a sanitary napkin, roughly the size of Cape Cod, in my sweatpants. My belly is wrapped like a mummy to splint my insides back in place. And my boobs are going to quadruple in size and start leaking in the next forty-eight hours.”
Shep’s eyebrows inch up his forehead.
I shrug. “So I realize this is probably not the best time to say this, but it’s the only time that we’re guaranteed so—”
“I love you,” he says.
I’m … speechless. And unprepared to hear this from him. And quite frankly, I’m a little perturbed. He stole my line!
“Take it back,” I say.
“What?” He chuckles.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Take it back. I was talking, and you interrupted me. That’s rude. So you have to take it back.”
He mirrors my stance, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll do no such thing.”
I shove him.
His eyes widen.
“Did you just shove me?”
“Take. It. Back.”
His stupid, kissable lips bend into an obnoxious smile. “Why?”
“Because I wanted to love you first.”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but if you just came to this conclusion, then you don’t get to call dibs on ‘first’ because after a lot of self-reflection, I’m pretty sure you had me the day you spilled your iced coffee all over my store. I loved you first. Can you handle that?”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t you worry about what I can or cannot handle. I just pushed a seven-pound human out of my body with nothing for the pain, and my boobs make magical milk.”
Shep fights his grin.
“Do you want to meet my nephew?” I bail on the conversation.
His relinquishes one hundred percent of that grin. It’s blinding. “Maybe in a minute.”
“In a minute?”
“Yeah. I have something to do first.”
“What’s that?” I cock my head to the side.
“I’m going to kiss you. And I’m also going to cop a feel of your boobs before they start leaking.”
“You’re not—”
He smashes his mouth to mine. And as promised, his hand cups my boob over my T-shirt.
Three weeks and five days later …
“What’s in the bag?” I ask when Shep arrives home from work about thirty minutes after me.
Home.
I did it again. I’ve let a man basically move in with me. Every day, more of his stuff appears at my house. Every night, he’s in my bed. So far, he’s kept his job at the pet store, and he showers daily.
“Nothing much.” He sets the bag on the counter and pulls me into his arms. “Hi.” He grins while brushing his lips over mine.