One Moment Please: A Surprise Pregnancy Standalone (Wait With Me #3) - Amy Daws Page 0,62
get those met, I’m going to do it, and you can’t say a damn word about it.”
She releases a small huff, and my jaw drops. I open my mouth to argue, but I don’t even know what the fuck to say to that because she’s right. Though I wish like hell she wasn’t.
She steps into my space and pokes her finger hard into my chest. “And for the record, you’re not the only alpha in this house.”
She storms off down the hallway, and I sit on the sofa, stunned over that outburst. What the fuck just happened?
Me: Where are you?
Josh: Waiting on MRI results for my last patient.
Me: When will you be home?
Josh: I don’t know. Why?
Me: I made dinner, and it’s getting cold.
Josh: Okay…I’ll be home as soon as I can.
Me: I guess that’ll have to be ok.
My eyes rove manically around the house, going through my mental checklist of everything that needs to be done.
Fire lit on the patio…check.
Glasses of wine poured and ready for the taking…check.
Dinner table set…check.
Marinated chicken in the oven…check.
Side dishes sitting on warmers ready to be served…check.
This is it. My entire checklist is done, and I’m ready for tonight’s activities.
Josh is going to kill me.
But not after I kill him first for being late. He was supposed to be home a solid hour before anyone arrived. An hour! Plenty of time for me to tell him my plan but not enough time for him to escape.
He deserves this honestly. He’s been a grumpy, miserable jerk since our fight a week ago. After I calmed down, I apologized for my activity on Tinder. Even though I had no intentions of dating, I finally admitted to myself how I would feel if he was doing the same thing. And I really didn’t like thinking of him and other women.
So I deleted the app on my phone and told him that I had no intentions of dating until well after the baby was born. Sadly, he didn’t seem to care anymore because Dr. Dick was officially back on call.
Which is why I’m doing this. His attitude lately was all the confirmation I needed. He wasn’t in any rush to tell his parents, and since I’m twenty weeks pregnant and well on my way to maternity clothes, Kate’s crazy plan of telling both sets of parents at the same time is happening.
Rip it off like a Band-Aid.
And hope Josh’s more sane parents protect me from my crazy ones.
The coup was easier to accomplish than I’d thought. All I had to do was sneak into Josh’s room while he was sleeping, text his mom an invite for dinner, and delete the text thread once she confirmed. Josh has no clue and, because of his tardiness, he’s going to be completely and totally blindsided when he shows up to this Surprise, I’m Knocked Up From a One-Night-Stand Dinner Party.
The doorbell rings, and I freeze, my eyes flying to the clock. They’re twenty minutes early! What kind of monsters show up to a dinner party twenty minutes early? I quickly fluff my hair, hoping my curls didn’t completely fall after working in the kitchen for the past two hours. Why I decided to try a new recipe tonight of all nights, I’ll never know. I slip on my black heels and clunk my way toward the front door. When I open it, I inwardly cringe when I find it’s not my parents on the other side.
“Hiiii,” I squeal, a bit too enthusiastically. “You must be Josh’s parents—Harvey and Lana?”
“Oh, are you the caterer who makes those great crab cakes?” Josh’s mom asks, glancing at the apron I’d forgotten I’m still wearing.
She steps inside, and Josh’s dad barrels in behind her, mumbling about traffic while removing his hat and gloves. When their backs are turned, I fling the offensive apron off and smooth my demure black dress with a square neckline that I thought looked nice and classy. I touch the pearls that my grandmother left me around my neck and shoot a silent prayer up to Gran for strength tonight.
Lana turns and glances at herself in the hallway mirror, quickly smoothing her silver bob of hair.
I take the moment to respond to her earlier question. “Um, I’ve actually never made crab cakes. I don’t really care for seafood.”
“What kind of caterer doesn’t care for seafood?” she exclaims with a haughty laugh.
“The kind who dies if she accidentally consumes shellfish.” I force an awkward laugh.