When I was a little girl, my best friend was the library teacher that would allow me to secretly sign out more books than I was allowed. Every student was given a limit of three books, and even that was a lot for most of my peers, but it was never enough for me. So the librarian — Mrs. Barb — would let me sign out five book for every library visit. Yes, I was that kid. The one who skipped recess to read and could never get enough of drowning myself in fictional worlds. It's always been my coping mechanism.

Because even as a kid, my world wasn't exactly ideal.

Growing up, I had a vague recollection of my father. Not much. Mostly I remember a man constantly arguing with my mother and storming in and out of the house like it was a habit. I remember my mother sneaking into my room every night and burrowing under the covers so she could hug me tightly. I always suspected it was more so for her than me but I loved it nonetheless. My mother was my world. I knew, even at the ripe age of six years old when my father suddenly disappeared without a trace, that my mother deserved better. She was a beautiful woman. She had long blonde hair that held natural volume and a beach-wave style. Her eyes were a lovely shade of green that always sparkled with humour. And her heart was full and constantly making room for others. She loved to take care of people.

It wasn't until I became a little older that I realized not many people took care of her. I felt a lot of guilt over that so I maintained a lack of social life throughout my teen years and kept my grades up. I was never out past curfew and even my outings consisted of being at the library or studying at a local coffee shop. I enjoyed my own company and was never embarrassed about constantly being in it. I attracted attention from others, I guess because I didn't look as outwardly weird as I was on the inside, but I never did anything about those who approached me. I preferred to be by myself because it was comfortable — safe. I kept out of trouble and it made my life and my mother's life a hell of a lot easier. As easy as it could be considering all we went through. After all she went through.

Years and years of trying for a child took a hard toll on my mom and her relationship with my father. He'd accused her of being baby-obsessed and said she stopped caring about him altogether. Just when my mom has given up hope and accepted that it would just be her and her husband, I was born. The miracle child that came along when she was thirty-three years old. I was a miracle to her but a nuisance to my father. In his eyes, I replaced him and he resented me before I was even born. That didn't improve in the least when my mother gave birth to me and he constantly fought with her out of pettiness. After six years of living a life he didn't want, he left. And it's been my mother and I ever since. I've tried so hard to be the perfect daughter. I think deep down I always worried that part of her didn't want me either. That part of her secretly wondered if my father was right to leave or not want me. I didn't want to disappoint my mother or make her resent me so I kept my head above water and did everything I could to keep it that way.

Even when money became tight and we were hired as housekeepers for Jaxon Cage, who is now family to us in every aspect, I sucked it up despite not having envisioned that kind of a life for myself when I graduated college. The first year was a struggle because Jaxon also struggled with money but had to find a way to work and take care of his daughter. We worked for him for far less money than we deserved and knew it but my mom didn't let that stop us. She saw something in his once cold and closed-off heart. And then he met Emily, his wife, and that something my mother saw in him turned out to be pretty damn spectacular. He's the most loyal and driven man I've ever met and his career in boxing has done well to take care of us all. Now we receive pay way beyond what we deserve and Jaxon won't let us leave — not that we want to. My mom's tired and dim green eyes, greying blonde hair, and slender figure are gone and replaced with a healthiness that I haven't seen in years. Everything was going so well.

Until I got pregnant.

My hand settles over my still-flat tummy as the thought hits me. I'm nearly two months along and still nowhere near accustomed to the knowledge that there's a tiny human growing inside of me. I swallow the gravel in my throat before I burst into tears and scare away the readers quietly seated between the library shelves.

I feel like I've failed in every way I tried to avoid since I was a little girl. Hell, my first kiss was when I was 22 for crying out loud. And now, a year later, I'm pregnant? It happened so fast. It was like watching a disaster take place in slow motion, knowing you should go do something but being unable to move from your spot. Thinking about this past year did nothing but upset me so I banish the thought and try to focus on the bright side. I don't want my baby to feel resented like I did. I don't want my baby, for even a moment, to experience the bone-crushing kind of hurt of knowing you're unwanted by your parent. Even if this situation is less than ideal and has completely turned my world upside down I won't allow my baby to suffer because of some bad decisions I've made. My baby will be loved and cherished even if I have to do it alone.

I take a deep, calming breath and transfer the last of the books on the cart to their respective places on the bookshelves. As I'm wheeling the empty cart away, the cover of a book I'm familiar with catches my eye.

"I love that one." My voice is naturally soft and I'm hoping the young man heard me. When he raises his eyes from the pages of the book to mine, I smile. "It's one of my favourites."

"Mine too." His cheeks turn pink and he pushes his glasses up the to bridge of his nose. I try not to raise a brow when his eyes flash to my chest lightening quick. He is a teenager after all and I know I'm not unattractive by most standards. "It's my third time reading it."

"Only the best books are worth that many reads. Enjoy it." I wave and his blush deepens before he waves back.

I put the cart away in its place at the back of the supply closet between the ladder and the stacks of chairs. I close up behind me when I'm done and return to the front desk where I sign out books for all the readers. One reader in particular is missing and his absence is jarring.

Nate hasn't come by the library since he found out I'm pregnant and I guess that's a good thing. It's one thing to chase after a girl in good fun, even though I was taken at the time. But to chase after a girl who's about to be a mother? That's a game changer and I don't blame him for setting boundaries. Things were getting really weird between us anyways. I couldn't tell if we were friends or strangers or what. That's not the kind of complication I need in my life right now. In a few months, I'm going to be responsible for another human being. That means I can't afford to play games or make dumb decisions because I won't be the only one being affected by them anymore and I'll be damned if I let some boy get in the way of me being a good mother. No matter how irresistible said boy is.

My phone chirps with an incoming call and I pick it up when I see "Momma" on the caller ID.

"Hey." I say in greeting.

"Hey, honey." Her warm voice soothes me instantly. Though the pregnancy was a shock to both of us, she's been handling it much better than I have. She insists that my baby is a blessing and that she's so glad I didn't have to deal with the fertility issues she dealt with. She's always been afraid of that and had made me get my PAP test as soon as I was eligible. I guess I'm glad at least one of us isn't overwhelmed. "I'll be at the library in five minutes and then we'll head out for your doctor's appointment."

"Sounds good. Just text me when you're done."

"Okay. I love you."

"Love you, too."

A pile of books is dropped on the desk just as I hang up. My coworker, Mark, flops onto the leather chair with a huff and glances over at me. With dark hair and hazel eyes, he is definitely an attractive man and is the reason we get so many female visitors in this quaint place. Most of the time they'd rather wait in line to get their books checked out by him — among other things, I'm sure — instead of having me as their librarian. I don't mind. It's an amusing thing to see as I don't have much experience in that domain. Chris was my only relationship and look how that turned out. I picked a man just like my deadbeat father. Goody.

"Why did I choose this job again?" He complains. "The silence is driving me insane."

"Because this is the only 'weekend-only' job you were able to find." I repeat the answer I give him every time he asks.

"Do you think I'll get in trouble if I crank some tunes?"

"Not at all. Libraries are meant to be noisy."

"Smartass."

I giggle and start fixing up the books behind the desk in alphabetical order. I haven't told Mark about the pregnancy yet and I don't plan to until I start showing. Hopefully baggy clothing will let me get away with months of hiding before I have to voice the truth. It's hard enough figuring this out without everyone being in my business. Having my mom and the whole Fighter's Den crew is more than enough mortification than I can handle. I'm not embarrassed about being pregnant — I'm embarrassed about being abandoned. If it was up to me, no one would know about that little detail.

"Luckily it's a Sunday so we close early." I go on.

"But I'll be alone for the next hour." He whines and eyes me. "What's your doctor's appointment for anyways?"

My hand falters on the next book I pick but I recover quickly, hoping my voice doesn't give way to suspicion. "Just some girl stuff. Don't worry about it."

"Birth control?" He inquires teasingly.

The irony of his question makes me want to punch him.

He must catch wind of my glare because his hands go up in surrender and he swivels the chair away from me. I huff out a breath when I'm done stacking and grab my purse. I throw in my phone and a couple of books before hoisting it over my shoulder and signing my name on the sheet that keeps track of our shifts.

"See you next weekend." I wave and Mark waves back, pulling out his phone as I exit the building.

I bound down the stairs and take a seat on a bench just on the curb of the sidewalk. I hug myself and rub my arms for warmth against the cool spring breeze. Normally I'd be excited that the weather is warming up but all I can think about is how I'm going to conceal my growing belly. If it was winter, I might've gotten away with hiding my pregnancy for months behind puffy jackets. Again, it's not that I'm ashamed. It's more like this is so unlike me that I feel vulnerable and...well, scared.

I watch quietly from my seat as a mother ushers her two children away from the road and leads them to a vacant spot on the grass. She rolls out a sheet for them to sit on and begins emptying a basket full of snacks. The children happily munch on their sandwiches and talk animatedly while the mother listens to them with her full attention, occasionally nodding and smiling in encouragement. She seems like a good mom. A small smile tugs at my lips when I realize that'll be me, sooner than I thought. Will my baby look at me as adoringly as the two children are gazing at their mom? God, I hope so. I might not be ready to be a mom just yet but I want to be an amazing one. As amazing as my own mother.

And just as I think of her, her car pulls up to the bench and she waves at me through the windows. I smile and make my way to the door, opening it before I step inside and then shutting it once I'm seated. I click the seatbelt into place and lean over to hug my mom. "Thanks for coming."

"I'm so excited." She gushes and steps on the gas, peeling out of the driveway and onto the main roads. "I hope it's doing okay."

"Me too." I say honestly and rub a protective hand over my belly.

"Has your morning sickness gotten any better?"

"Yeah. The meds from my last appointment really helped. My appetite still sucks, though."

"It'll get better. When I was pregnant with you, I was throwing up all through my first trimester."

"Can't wait." I deadpan and my mom pokes me for my sarcasm. "What were you up to?"

"Babysitting Lucas." She smiles. "That little boy is a troublemaker already. Stubborn as hell about things going the way he wants."

"Wonder where he gets that from." I tease and we look at each other knowingly.

"Jax and Em were able to catch up on a few hours of sleep but knowing them, they didn't get more than a couple. Probably wasted time with the same shenanigans that made Lucas."

I stifle a laugh with a hand over my mouth. Mom isn't wrong. As big as the house is and as much as I love living with those two, they are extremely...expressive in bed. I've had to plug in earphones in the middle of the night on more than one occasion. I'm just glad Lizzie sleeps on the floor below us where you can't hear anything. Mom and I share a floor with Jaxon and Emily and it's probably the worst decision we've ever made. Still, It's nice to know their relationship doesn't lack passion no matter how much time goes by. Those two are absolutely made for each other.

Mom cranks the radio and I absently go through my phone, my thumb hovering over Chris' number. I briefly wonder if I should call. Again. But I think against it and shoot him a text saying I have an appointment today to check the baby's progress. Part of me hopes he'll come around because I also want my baby to have a father. But another part of me recognizes I'd rather the baby have no father than an absent one like my own. It's just so confusing. Being in this situation, I have to wonder how the hell Chris walked away knowing he's just as much a part of this as I am. I get that he was scared but so am I.

"Honey, he's not worth it." My mom tells me softly. I don't bother asking her how she knew I was messaging Chris because she seems to know everything. I hope I'm that kind of a mother, too. "Even if he's not in the picture you'll be okay. You have a village of supporters. We were blessed to meet the most incredible people these last couple of years and they are all with you."

"But he's the baby's father, Mom. Like it or not that gives him the most importance besides me."

"There's a difference between a father and a sperm donor, Delilah. I know you're scared of the baby missing out the way you did but is that how you felt? Did you feel you were missing out with just me?" There's a hint of vulnerability in her voice and I'm immediately flooded with guilt.

"No, Mom. Of course not. You were a mother and a father and a best friend all in one. I never felt like I was lacking in anything. It's just hard to explain. Even though I know I was okay growing up with a father, I guess I'm worried that my baby won't be."

"If it's anything like its Momma, it will be."

"Please. What kind of example am I setting? I stayed away from boys all my life and the one time I stray from that rule and decide to have sex, I ended up pregnant. We even used a condom."

"And I told you, that's a blessing. It's a different kind of pain thinking you're not good enough to carry a baby no matter what you do. In a lot of ways it did take over my marriage."

"So Dad was right?" Now it's my voice that sounds vulnerable.

"No, honey. We were comfortable in our marriage as if it was a job rather than a choice. If we were truly in love, your dad wouldn't have given up. But he did and I don't regret it in the least. He gave me my beautiful daughter and that's the only thing he'll ever get credit for."

"Being a sperm donor."

"Exactly."

I laugh, feeling infinitely better. "Thanks, Mom. This baby is going to be lucky to have you as a grandmother."

"As old as that makes me feel, I'm honoured."

"Oh, shush. You're gorgeous." And it's true. She looks like she's in her late thirties instead of heading towards sixty. Even now, she turns heads when we go out even though she's totally oblivious to it. Sometimes I wonder if she'll ever remarry. She deserves to be happy and as long as the man cherishes her, I have no reservations.

"I said I'm old, not ugly." She jokes and I have to laugh at that.

She parks in the hospital parking lot after paying and we get out of the car, heading inside. I tug my coat around my midsection self-consciously. I know I'm not showing but I still feel exposed.

"How can I help you?" The receptionist on the maternity ward smiles at us from behind her desk.

"I have a check-up appointment with Dr. Parker. Delilah Stevens."

"How far along are you?"

"Seven weeks."

She clicks away on her keyboard then ushers for us to take a seat. "Just a moment."

We settle in patiently and I take a moment to look around at the other expectant mothers. Some are hardly showing, like me, and others have large and swollen bellies that look almost painful. None of them look like they don't want to be here though and a stab of guilt hits me that I have the urge to run. I'm already a crappy mother. Fantastic.

My attention is pulled away when my mom's phone rings and signals that she received a text. I normally wouldn't care but the smile on her face gives me pause. "Who's that?"

"No one." She says quickly and waves me off. "A friend of mine."

"Do I know this friend?" I wait for her to elaborate. We tell each other everything so her hesitancy is suspicious.

"I don't think so." She leaves it at that and a frown mars my face. Okay, then.

"Stevens." The receptionist calls my name and my mother and I stand, grabbing our purses and heading toward the door leading to the inside office.

I take my coat off and hand it to Mom before taking a seat on the cushioned bed, the plastic paper crinkling underneath me. I lie back against it and fold my hands together, settling it on my tummy. It's full of butterflies and my chest is pounding. I will myself to take large and calming breaths, not wanting to look like a freak show in front of my doctor. A warm hand settles on mine and I look over at my mother who smiles at me reassuringly. I return it with a wobbly one of my own and close my eyes, going back to the breathing exercises.

"Hey there, Delilah." Dr. Parker greets us as she steps inside the room and closes the door behind her. Her smile is teasing. "What's it like in New York City?"

I roll my eyes good-naturedly. "Never heard that one before."

She laughs. "I couldn't resist. How are you doing? How's the pregnancy going?"

"Good." I swallow the boulder in my throat and resist the urge to say something dumb like if by good you mean totally nerve-wracking and driving me to the brink of insanity then yeah, it's going great. Cause that's not cool. "Still have some morning sickness but the medication is helping. I've been getting a lot of headaches too."

She must detect the worry in my voice because she pats me reassuringly as she settles on to her seat in front of the ultrasound monitor. "That's completely normal. I don't want you to freak out over nothing. Let's have a look at this baby and ease your nerves, yeah?"