Oh, he gave me his phone number after that night, but I never called. That wasn’t the plan. I didn’t want a real relationship.
Aidan was supposed to be a fling, a surprise. He was supposed to be one night only and no strings attached.
Well, he definitely attached his strings and now we’re going to be pretty fucking close for the next two decades, at least.
I pack a little bag in case I hit bad weather and need to spend the night. You never know what might happen. I don’t particularly want to spend any time in Honeypot, but I like to be prepared. I toss in an extra outfit, a spare toothbrush, and some hair products, then deposit the bag neatly in my trunk.
When I’m back inside, I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and try to decide what to tell my family. I wish for the millionth time today that I could have an alcoholic beverage, but I’m tired: not stupid.
I’ve only known about my baby for a few hours, but already I’m wondering if it’s going to be a boy or a girl. I’m wondering if my baby is going to look like me or Aidan.
I’m wondering if it’s going to be a shifter.
With a sigh, I lean my head on the table. That’s the real problem, isn’t it? Aidan is from Honeypot. I know all about Honeypot. My brother has spent more than enough time talking about the shifters he’s met and all the weird problems they have to deal with on a daily basis.
Apparently being a different species living on Earth isn’t exactly easy.
Apparently fearing for your life and wondering if you’ll be poached at any time or studied for science isn’t easy.
Richard can be a stick in the mud, but he’s a good person, and even though he practices in Morris Creek, he travels to Honeypot once or twice a month to offer counseling services to shifters.
Aidan really helped him during his time at university and I don’t think Richard will ever forget that.
At least I know that if I encounter any weird emotional problems from raising a shifter baby, my brother can help guide me through it.
I finally finish my food, take a warm shower, and collapse in my bed. I don’t feel nauseous yet and my boobs don’t hurt. I don’t have any weird cramping or spotting. Absolutely nothing is wrong with me and I have no visible signs of being pregnant. The only reason I took the test was because my period was late.
When my cycle tracker app on my phone notified me I was late, I ignored it. I figured it was a fluke. I thought it would show up the next day, or the next, but I finally figured it out.
Only I didn’t want to think about what it meant, so I just waited.
Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer. Finally, I realized that if I was, in fact, pregnant, I would need to start seeking prenatal care. I might not have planned on being a single mother, but I’m going to be a good one. I’m going to love this baby. I’m going to do anything and everything it takes to be a good mom.
And the first thing I have to do is find Aidan in Honeypot and give him the news.
He’s going to be a daddy.
***
Despite my good intentions to leave early, I don’t actually hit the road until 10:00, which puts me in Honeypot at noon. I’ve never actually been to Honeypot and I have no idea what Aidan does for a living, but I’m sure there must be someone who can tell me.
My first stop is at a little diner called Bumble’s. Cute name. I park my car and lock it, then head inside to see if I can get something to eat and, if I can scrounge up some luck, some information on where to find Aidan.
Every head turns when I enter the diner and I suddenly freeze, realizing they must not get many outsiders who visit. Dammit. Maybe they won’t be willing to help me find Aidan, after all. The people in the diner don’t look scary, but I suddenly realize that I’m the only human in a restaurant full of shifters, and I can’t quite handle it.
What if I do something wrong?
What if I offend them somehow?
Are they going to attack me?
I’m going to be a mom.
And that’s when it hits me for real. I’m going to be a mom and I’m going to need these people. I’m going to need people who will help me figure out what it takes to raise a shifter baby. I’m going to need help from others like my baby. I’m going to need help learning what it takes to be a mom.
Fuck. I’m going to be a mom.
A waitress is at the back of the diner and calls out to me, but I’m already out the door and back in my car, driving down the road. Tears are streaming down my face and I don’t know what the hell I’m even doing.