A Partridge and a Pregnancy (Holiday Brothers, #3)

by Willa Nash

How had it come to this? How was I even here? I’d asked myself the same questions hours ago when I’d been sitting on the bathroom floor with a positive pregnancy test in hand. One night. One night with Tobias. A farewell. And now I was pregnant.

“On the third day of Christmas, my true love sent to me.” Tobias had always loved it in college when I’d make up stupid songs in the shower. He’d sneak into the bathroom and sit on the toilet to listen. He’d often scared the hell out of me when I’d pulled back the curtain and there he’d been, those blue eyes dancing at my ridiculous lyrics. “Eva, what the hell is—” I held up a finger. “Three French hens. Two turtle doves.” I opened my eyes, slid my hand out of my pocket and threw the stick at him. Tobias snagged it from the air. “And a partridge and a pregnancy.”

There was a truck in the driveway, parked beside my space. My heart did a little flip. It always flipped for Tobias. I wasn’t sure why he was here, waiting on my porch. But it was nice to come home and not be alone.

Kids needed homes. They needed a resting place. They needed roots and routine. I had all of those in spades. Which meant if she didn’t change her mind, I wouldn’t have a choice. Once this baby was born, he or she was coming home to Montana. I stared at my reflection, hating myself so much that I couldn’t hold my own gaze. If Eva was going to fight for London and the next move and the next move, then I’d fight her for my child. And she’d hate me. She’d fucking hate me. But my kid was worth the fight. And I’d just drawn the battle lines with a kiss.

“Fuck it.” I slammed my mouth on hers, my tongue sweeping inside. I devoured her, exploring her mouth, memorizing every corner. I held her to me, hoping that if I held tight enough, this might all make sense. She broke away first, her eyes hooded and her lips swollen. Fuck, but I wanted her. I wanted her for good. To keep. But she wasn’t mine. She was her own woman. That was what Eddy had called her that night years ago. Her own woman. So I took one step away. Then another. And this time, I made it to my bedroom without looking back.

“Why hasn’t he asked us to stay?” I whispered, sliding a hand across my belly. The baby didn’t have an answer. Neither did I.

“An ultimatum,” she whispered, her eyes flooding. “I can’t believe you just gave me an ultimatum. You know what I wished for earlier? That you’d ask me to stay.” My heart stopped. “But you didn’t. Not before. Not now. You’ve never asked me to stay.” And judging by the tone in her voice, now it was too late. “You broke my fucking heart.” “Then I guess tonight makes us even.” She swallowed hard. “Happy New Year, Tobias.” The sound of her slamming door echoed through the house. I stood frozen, immobilized by the pain. She hated me. To be fair, tonight, I sort of hated myself.

Tobias’s ultimatum rang through my mind. It made it hard to see straight because the worst part was . . . He was right. I was clinging to a foolish hope that my life wouldn’t have to change. But nothing about my life was normal. I couldn’t drag a baby around with me from city to city. I couldn’t keep my job and be a mother. He was right. I knew he was right. I’d known it for a week. Yet last night, even after all those words, he hadn’t asked me to stay. He wanted the baby. Just not me.