For The Love of Easton (For the Love Of #2) - A.M. Hargrove Page 0,2
what it is to be a single parent. It wasn’t until you were six that Mom came into our lives.”
How had I forgotten that? Mom had been my first-grade teacher, which was how she and Dad had met. They’d ended up getting married, and that was the best thing ever.
“Yeah, I remember. Then you two can be my teachers.”
“I think your father will be the better one,” Mom said. “He has all the experience in being a single parent.”
“I believe you should finish out this semester, and then transfer to a local college at home to complete your degree,” Dad suggested. “But I wish you’d consider pressing charges against him. He deserves it, munch, after what he did to you. And you don’t want this happening to someone else, do you?”
My gut clenched at the thought of someone else going through this. “No, I don’t want that. But if I press charges, then it will be in the court records that he’s the father of this baby. That’s something I absolutely cannot have.”
“That’s an excellent point. Normally I would push for you to press charges, but I don’t want that man to have any hold on your child, our grandchild, so in this case, I agree.”
Mom nodded. “I agree too. English, everything happens for a reason and one day you’ll understand why this did. But promise me something?”
“What, Mom?”
“Please don’t give this baby a Star Wars name.”
Finally, something brought a grin to my troubled face. I’d insisted all my siblings have Star Wars names or nicknames. Hence, my brother—Beckley Bridges, named after my father—was called BB2. I had twin siblings named Finn and Rey, but AM—for Anna Monroe—was lucky enough to have escaped that nomenclature.
“Hmm. Pretty sure I’m past that.”
Mom held her hands in a prayer pose, looked up at the ceiling and said, “Thank you, Lord.”
Chapter One
English—Eight Months Later
Thanksgiving Day. Of course that was the day my baby decided to make her grand appearance. And yes, I was having a girl. I’d been nervous about how she would make her entrance into the world. My brothers and sisters had told me she would be just like me—bossy. That was unfair. I only bossed them around because I was older than BB2, the next Bridges child, by eight years and the others even more.
The contractions began before we put the turkey in.
Dad asked, “Should we continue?”
“Well, yeah, everyone has to eat, even if I can’t. Besides, Banana and Geepa will be here.” Banana and Geepa were my grandparents on my dad’s side. I’d never known my mom’s parents because they’d both died when Mom was young.
“She’s right, Beck,” Mom said.
They prepped the turkey and Mom told me to shower and make sure I had everything ready. “You never know if you’ll go slow or fast.”
I took her advice and it was a good thing, because two hours later I was huffing and puffing in the back seat on the way to the hospital. Mom and Dad took me, but Dad would be kicked out for the actual birth. At first he protested.
“I’ve seen your mother give birth before.”
“True, but not your daughter. That’s beyond creepy, Dad.”
Mom agreed. “She’s right, Beck.”
“You two are the creepy ones. I wasn’t looking at it like that.”
I waved a hand. “Doesn’t matter. I think it’s creepy. End of story. Besides, it’s my baby, not yours.”
“I’ll remember that when you need something.”
I spun around to see him grinning.
“Gotcha!”
I punched his arm with my middle knuckle stuck out a bit.
“Ouch!”
“That’s what you get for being mean.” Then I stuck my tongue out at him.
Rey skipped in the room then. “What’s going on?”
This conversation wasn’t for her eight-year-old ears. “Nothing much.”
“Then why are you pouting?”
“I’m not.”
I chuckled to myself at the memory of that conversation as I showered. Another contraction hit and I decided when I finished, I’d start timing them. I wasn’t concerned, only curious.
My bag was packed with all the things Mom and the doctor had recommended. I dressed and went back downstairs. The kids were in high gear and it made me anxious over how it would be with a new baby here.
“Why the long face?” Dad asked.
“All this commotion. How will the baby even sleep?”
His booming laughter practically vibrated the dishes that Mom had set on the counter. “Hey, Sheridan, English is worried about the baby sleeping through all the noise.”
Mom joined in on the fun.
“I don’t see what’s so comical.”
“That’s because you were once part of all this commotion when Anna Monroe, Rey,