put it that way, but it was true. Even her friends who’d gotten clean had a hard time being around each other; it dredged up memories of how they’d wasted their youth. And then, of course, her family pretended she didn’t exist, and it had been hard to make new friends with the hours she poured into her business.
Charlie Wainwright was the most non-business-related interaction she’d had—besides Dan and Elsie—in years.
And now she was carrying his child.
“Well, you’re my people now.”
Meg shook her head, afraid she’d cry harder. “You have so much on your plate already.”
“That may be true. But if my daughter was crying on some other old, sick woman’s couch, I’d hope she’d do the same. Now, first things first, you should tell the father. Unless he’s not a good sort.”
“I think he is. Not bad anyway.”
Elsie nodded. “Then you tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“The truth. Easy as that. You give him a chance to have half a say—half, mind you, as you’re the one doing the carrying and the laboring.”
Oh. God. Labor. “But...what if I don’t know what I want?”
“Doesn’t matter, honey. You got a life growing inside you.”
That she did, and while there were options in that regard, options she’d supported a friend through when they were only teenagers, Meg didn’t think she had that option in her as a solvent adult. A solvent adult who’d always wanted to be a mother someday—in some abstract world when she had it all together. But...maybe she was never going to have it all together. Maybe she had to jump in, not quite ready. More than a little scared that she’d be terrible at it.
Which meant she had to admit something exceedingly scary for someone who’d failed at almost everything until her farm had come along. She’d have to admit she wanted to do it, and that she was scared of screwing it up. She’d have to admit a lot of things she usually faked her way through.
“You need to call yourself a doctor, honey, and then the Wainwright boy.”
Meg jerked her head to face Elsie, who merely shrugged. “Dan’s got no secrets from me.” She then reached over with a frail hand and patted Meg’s knee. “But we’ll keep yours, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about that.”
Don’t worry. Yeah, she didn’t think she’d be able to follow that advice anytime soon.
CHAPTER SEVEN
C HARLIE WASN ’ T HAPPY to be at the market. It wasn’t that he minded helping Dell. Especially after Lainey’s birthday party when things had felt... Well, he’d been a mess, but it had been nice that his family and Dell had voiced some kind of concern over him leaving.
It was a starting point to this new life he had to figure out. He wanted it to be here. Well, not here here. He could take or leave New Benton and Millertown, but St. Louis and the areas better suited to him were only a forty-five-minute drive from home and these people.
So it wasn’t the loading and unloading of vegetables, it wasn’t even the forced smiles, it was that when he stood in a particular spot, he could see Hope Springs Farm’s booth and his gaze seemed to drift that way no matter what.
Which was stupid. If he was still thinking about the woman, the least he could do was ask her out. Just because they’d had an awkward, drunken one-night stand didn’t mean it had to stay that way. Maybe, despite all outward appearances, they would be compatible while sober.
It was possible, and maybe if he at least tried, all the guilt dogging him over that incident would finally go away.
It had been weeks, though. Over a month. Maybe it wasn’t that out of the ordinary for her. Maybe the guys all blended together for her and she wouldn’t even remember him.
Of course, then her embarrassment and awkwardness that matched his own didn’t make sense, but he needed to move on. Figure out his life, not where he stood with his one and only ungentlemanly drunken exploit.
He needed to stop looking down the aisle,
Charlie Wainwright was the most non-business-related interaction she’d had—besides Dan and Elsie—in years.
And now she was carrying his child.
“Well, you’re my people now.”
Meg shook her head, afraid she’d cry harder. “You have so much on your plate already.”
“That may be true. But if my daughter was crying on some other old, sick woman’s couch, I’d hope she’d do the same. Now, first things first, you should tell the father. Unless he’s not a good sort.”
“I think he is. Not bad anyway.”
Elsie nodded. “Then you tell him.”
“Tell him what?”
“The truth. Easy as that. You give him a chance to have half a say—half, mind you, as you’re the one doing the carrying and the laboring.”
Oh. God. Labor. “But...what if I don’t know what I want?”
“Doesn’t matter, honey. You got a life growing inside you.”
That she did, and while there were options in that regard, options she’d supported a friend through when they were only teenagers, Meg didn’t think she had that option in her as a solvent adult. A solvent adult who’d always wanted to be a mother someday—in some abstract world when she had it all together. But...maybe she was never going to have it all together. Maybe she had to jump in, not quite ready. More than a little scared that she’d be terrible at it.
Which meant she had to admit something exceedingly scary for someone who’d failed at almost everything until her farm had come along. She’d have to admit she wanted to do it, and that she was scared of screwing it up. She’d have to admit a lot of things she usually faked her way through.
“You need to call yourself a doctor, honey, and then the Wainwright boy.”
Meg jerked her head to face Elsie, who merely shrugged. “Dan’s got no secrets from me.” She then reached over with a frail hand and patted Meg’s knee. “But we’ll keep yours, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about that.”
Don’t worry. Yeah, she didn’t think she’d be able to follow that advice anytime soon.
CHAPTER SEVEN
C HARLIE WASN ’ T HAPPY to be at the market. It wasn’t that he minded helping Dell. Especially after Lainey’s birthday party when things had felt... Well, he’d been a mess, but it had been nice that his family and Dell had voiced some kind of concern over him leaving.
It was a starting point to this new life he had to figure out. He wanted it to be here. Well, not here here. He could take or leave New Benton and Millertown, but St. Louis and the areas better suited to him were only a forty-five-minute drive from home and these people.
So it wasn’t the loading and unloading of vegetables, it wasn’t even the forced smiles, it was that when he stood in a particular spot, he could see Hope Springs Farm’s booth and his gaze seemed to drift that way no matter what.
Which was stupid. If he was still thinking about the woman, the least he could do was ask her out. Just because they’d had an awkward, drunken one-night stand didn’t mean it had to stay that way. Maybe, despite all outward appearances, they would be compatible while sober.
It was possible, and maybe if he at least tried, all the guilt dogging him over that incident would finally go away.
It had been weeks, though. Over a month. Maybe it wasn’t that out of the ordinary for her. Maybe the guys all blended together for her and she wouldn’t even remember him.
Of course, then her embarrassment and awkwardness that matched his own didn’t make sense, but he needed to move on. Figure out his life, not where he stood with his one and only ungentlemanly drunken exploit.
He needed to stop looking down the aisle,
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