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Nine-Month Notice
Jennie Lucas
“I’m your baby’s father,” he said quietly.
Those four words made Emmie catch her breath. Was she wrong to deny Theo even the chance to try to raise their son in the same home, just because she was scared?
But—what about her baby?
Maybe Theo could never love her. But what if there was hope for him as a father?
Could Emmie really deny their baby the chance to be raised in a secure home with both parents? Could she actually be selfish enough to put her own needs first?
“Just go through with the ceremony,” Theo told the minister arrogantly. “We’ll fix the paperwork later.”
“I’m not sure—” the man began, then looked at Theo and shrugged. He turned to Emmie, his eyes grave behind his spectacles as he placed his finger on the correct page. “What do you say, my dear? Should I begin again?”
Lump in her throat, Emmie stared at him uncertainly.
“Do it,” Theo said in a low, husky voice. “Say yes. Marry me.”
CHAPTER ONE
EMMALINESWENSONHADalways known her place in the world. With four rambunctious younger brothers, a struggling father and overwhelmed mother, Emmie’s job was to help her family, not herself.
She’d always known she wasn’t pretty, with limp dishwater-blond hair and a shape inclined to plumpness from her time baking in their tiny kitchen. As a teenager, she’d dreamed about falling in love with a strong, honorable man and sharing a passionate first kiss in the moonlight. But even then, she’d known romance was unlikely for a plain, dutiful girl like her.
Then, at twenty-seven, she’d fallen in love. She’d been seduced beyond her dreams. For one perfect night, she’d felt desirable, beautiful and valuable—cherished in the arms of the most dazzlingly gorgeous man in the world.
By the next morning, it was over.
Now, at twenty-eight, any romantic daydreams Emmie had ever had were well and truly gone.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Turning away from the mirror, Emmie saw her father at the door, his craggy face beaming with pride and love.
“I wish your mother could see you now,” he whispered, wiping his eyes. “She’d be so proud.”
“Thanks, Dad.” A lump rose in Emmie’s throat. She wasn’t sure her mother would, in fact, be proud of her today. While she’d lived, Margie Swenson had always tried to convince Emmie to look beyond the grind of endless work and household tasks and find the quiet beauty of life.
Emmie hoped to follow her mother’s advice someday. Just not today.
Her wedding day.
Looking at her, the happiness in her father’s eyes faded. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not.” Forcing a smile, Emmie rose from the vanity table and stepped into a pool of bright June sunlight from the changing room’s window, which shimmered gold against her white satin skirt. It had been her mother’s wedding dress decades before and was a little too tight for Emmie in her current condition. She should have had it tailored to fit her expanding waistline, but it had fit her fine just two weeks ago, when she’d agreed to marry Harold Eklund.
A man she didn’t love. A man she’d never even kissed.
Emmie’s knees shook as she picked up her small bouquet of beautiful red roses sent as a wedding gift from her best friend’s grandfather, who ran the flower shop in their vibrant Queens neighborhood. She risked another glance at the full-length mirror. The faded gown was lumpy and unflattering on her pregnant body, making her belly and breasts seem huge beneath the straining fabric.
Her face looked scared and pale in the mirror, in spite of the makeup she’d carefully applied following a video tutorial. The dark eyeliner, mascara and red lipstick made her look strange. Her dark blond hair was pulled back severely beneath her mother’s veil, the tulle headpiece perched awkwardly on her head, like a wad of tissues sticking in all directions.
She bitterly regretted not taking Honora up on that offer to hire a professional hair and makeup stylist. Too late for that now. Emmie’s best friend should have been her matron of honor today, but she’d rushed to the Caribbean last night with her family to check on Honora’s grandfather, who’d been injured on a cruise with his new wife in Aruba.
“Granddad’s doing better,” Honora had told her anxiously last night. “But I’m so sorry to miss your wedding.”
