Series Starter Firsts in Series Collection - Kaylee Ryan Page 0,121

later…”

“No, it won’t. I want it documented that neither my family nor I want anything to do with this child.” She points to her belly. “I want to sign over all parental rights to Evan Chamberlin.”

Mr. Fields looks over at his paralegal and she nods—their unspoken acknowledgement that she did, indeed, get Misty’s words recorded.

“All right, in summary, you, Misty Newman, are signing over any and all parental rights to the father, Evan Chamberlin. Evan will take financial responsibility in regards to all medical bills, clothing, and any other expenses incurred throughout the pregnancy.”

“Yes, okay, where do I sign?” She sits on the edge of her seat and reaches for a pen from the holder on the desk.

Mr. Fields instructs each of us where we need to sign. As soon as she scrawls her name in all the necessary places, I feel a little of the weight lift from my shoulders.

I’m going to be a father.

I’m glad I’m sitting because there is a slight tremble in my knees. Misty passes me the pen and I see the same quiver in my hands. I’m scared out of my fucking mind, but I want this. This baby is a part of me. How could I ever not want that?

I scrawl my name on the line and push the papers back toward Mr. Fields. “Misty, what about your family?” Mr. Fields asks.

“What about them? They told me to get rid of it.”

Her voice is flat, no emotion, no feeling. My gut twists at her words and my eyes fix on the papers with both of our names on them. This day could not have come fast enough.

“Just as precaution, I urge, once the baby arrives, there be a paternity test to validate Evan is the father.”

Misty’s head snaps up and she stares at him, processing what he just said. “I don’t want to be a mother. This baby is better off without me, and vice versa. However, I didn’t cheat on Evan. This is his baby. If it were anyone else’s, it would be a non-issue.”

Again, her words cause my stomach to churn. She’s calm, her face void of any emotion. Did I ever really know her?

“Fair enough, but as reassurance to my client, it’s best to do this as soon as possible. This prevents surprises years down the road after emotional bonds have been established.”

“Whatever,” Misty quips. “As long as it’s understood I’m not, nor is anyone in my family, going to be involved, I don’t care what you do.”

I clench my fists. How is it possible that this is the same girl I’ve spent the last several months with? I want my child to have a mother, but in this moment, I have to agree my baby is better off without her.

Chapter 4

McKinley

It’s been a week since I’ve been back, and Dorothy was right---there is no place like home. I spent the morning on Savannah, my horse, riding the property. I took my camera and caught the sunrise. I love being behind the lens, capturing life’s little moments. My plan is to start my own photography business. My parents are on board to help me as much as possible. Last night, Dad even offered to rent me a studio in town, but I don’t really think that’s the angle I want to take just yet. Instead, I’m going to set up a mini studio here on the farm. We have an apartment over the garage that has an outside entrance. I’m going to clean it out and start collecting props. I’m excited to put my degree to use and start this next chapter.

I’m sitting on the front porch with my laptop, going through this morning’s pictures when I hear a truck pull up. I know who it is without even looking. Evan’s had that old thing since he was sixteen. It had been well used when he got it. I hear the creak of the door as he opens it, and I can’t help but grin. You know you missed home when the sound of a rickety old truck door can bring a smile to your face.

I’m still looking at my computer screen, flipping through images, when his footsteps approach. I don’t look up, assuming he’s going to walk right past me and into the house like he always does. Only he doesn’t.

Looking up, I see he’s not wearing his usual dusty, worn jeans, the ones that hang just right. These jeans are more…I don’t know, dressy, I guess you could