Page 2 of His to Keep

Emerson: Maybe. I’ll let you know when I get off work.

Mom: Love you.

I wasn’t sure when I became my mother’s go-to person, but I was sure it had something to do with taking on the mantle that was this job. AXE was embedded in my family’s life, and by assuming this role, I’d become the shepherd to not just the employees here, but to family as well.

Most days I savored it. The feeling of control and being able to provide for people. But things would be changing soon. Maybe.

I cast a way glance at my computer screen. No new messages, or at least the one I was looking for. There were plenty of unread messages. I was waiting though; I could be patient. Internally I chanted this to myself, over and over.

My phone buzzed again.

I lurched there, my eyes scanning the screen with an automated update telling me there was a new message in my client portal. I could barely breathe as I navigated to the website and the message loaded.

There, right at the top, the subject line sent my blood to pound once again. “Good news,” I read aloud, my fingers shaking on the mouse as I scrolled down.

Good news.

My entire body felt like it was floating, and I scrolled faster, skimming the text as I went. Beta numbers.

Early signs are good. We’ll be in touch soon.

I scrolled past, and then I felt jolt like I’d never felt burn through my body. I was looking at the very first picture of my son or daughter.

I didn’t stop myself when I touched the screen, my heart racing, throat tight as I double clicked to make the picture bigger. And then stared some more.

Minutes later, I left the office, my baby's ultrasound picture on my phone and the biggest smile I could remember on my face.

***

Whitney

This was unexpected.

I mean, mostly unexpected. When I’d signed a contract that was more intense than my mortgage, I knew that I was getting in deep. But as I opened the door to my new townhouse and found myself staring at the single biggest basket of deliverable goodies I’d ever seen, my jaw still dropped.

“Whitney Bryant?”

“That’s me?” I held out my phone for the electronic signature, still shocked.

The uniformed man shifted behind the basket, obviously strained by its weight. “Do you want me to set it somewhere?”

“No, no.” I stared at the basket, wondering where I was going to put all of this. “I’ll take it.”

“Great.” The delivery guy grunted a little as he hefted the basket into my arms and was back down the stairs and into his vehicle in a flash. Leaving me standing in my doorway in my pajamas, holding an enormous basket of snacks.

I heaved the basket onto a hip and made my way back inside, scooting the boxes, still taped shut, out of my way as I went. I glanced around as my fingers slipped against the wrapping. Right now, the townhouse was more than a little empty. I couldn’t wait for my furniture to get here.

At least the kitchen table was here, a hand-me-down from my aunt Kate. I dropped the basket there and hunted for the card on the clear wrap. Finally, I found it near the bottom, tucked in tight.

To: Mrs. Bryant,

Welcome to Chicago. Thank you for everything.

Emerson Brooks

My brows flew up. Surprise immediately melted into excitement. It was so nice of him. I bit my lip, tearing the clear wrap free and looking into the basket. Inside was every kind of snack food and cracker, complete with a package of prenatal vitamins, morning sickness drops, and a variety of dried fruit and goodies. I wasn’t even sure it would all fit into that sweet little cabinet that my kitchen had. I popped open a box of multigrain crackers and bit into one. Even it tasted expensive, which made me laugh out a small puff of cracker dust into the air.

It was only funny because I was being paid to do this. And on top of that, my pseudo baby daddy had been lavishing things on me. The night after our ultrasound pictures were finally live, he’d sent over a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

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