Baby for my Dads Best Friend （Sneak Peek）

by Clara Dunn

1

Kaylee

EVERYTHING IS PERFECT.

We picked the small, nearly antique church that's just outside of town.

When you picture the ideal, small-town chapel, this is exactly what you think of.

You enter the main doors and walk directly into the nave, no vestibule.

There are rows and rows of pews, the ceilings are high and vaulted, and large stained-glass windows are on either side so the sun can shine through them with every sunrise and sunset.

The wedding colors are blush and champagne.

I decided on artificial flowers. I always thought I would want real flowers, but artificial flowers make more sense because I can get them in the exact color.

After the florist pairing, I settled with classical roses.

There's cream, light pink, dusty pink, and a mauve color. There's filler of white baby's breath, darker leaves, and tiny twigs made from birchwood.

They're gorgeous.

Other than my dress, the flowers are my favorite part.

The chapel is quiet with nobody in sight as I walk up the aisle, toward the altar.

The hardwood floor creaks under my weight in one spot, and I make a mental note not to step there in a few hours when I'm walking this path in front of all my family and friends.

When I get to the altar, I turn, my eyes sweeping over the empty pews.

I can't help but imagine how this room will look once it's full of people.

I know a lot of women won't admit to being the type who's planned their wedding since they were a little girl, but I will.

I've had this chapel picked out since the first time I saw it when I was six years old. Back then, I wanted my wedding colors to be neon.

I also wanted to marry Zac Efron.

A lot has changed: colors, flowers, men… The one thing that's remained the same is this church.

Muffled whispers start to make their way to my ears. I turn my head to the side, looking in the direction of the staircase that will lead me to the lower level.

The whispers grow louder, and I'm able to pick up on the urgency and panic even though I can't understand exactly what's being said.

I turn and walk to the west wall. My hands wrap around the wrought-iron banister as my feet carry me down the steps into the basement area.

This area has been redone, so now there's a kitchen down here, a large community room, and several smaller rooms where they hold children's lessons.

The back door is open, and the sun is shining down the concrete staircase just outside the door.

My mother, father, sister, and brother are standing there at the door, passing a piece of paper among them.

"What's that?" I ask, and they go silent before turning to look at me.

I look at each one of their faces.

My dad and brother look pissed.

They look so similar anyway, but now they're nearly identical as they both have their sharp jaws cocked.

My younger sister's head is dipped forward, and she has her arms crossed over her chest.

She keeps her eyes on the floor, refusing to look at me.

It's the look I see when I look at my mom that feels like a knife to my chest.

Her eyes are wide and glassy, filled with tears that she's doing everything she can to hold back.

She's biting on her lower lip, and when she releases it, I see it quiver.

"What's going on? What are you holding there?" I walk toward them and none of them move or speak.

I reach out, pulling the paper from between my mother's fingers.

The paper is folded in half. I open it, my eyes moving over the messy handwriting of my soon-to-be husband. The note reads:

Kay,

I'm sorry I have to do this, but I know you'll understand more than anyone since we've always talked about following our heart even when our brain is telling us something different.

The thing is, my brain has always told me that you are my other half, but my heart has always belonged to another.

I thought I could go through with this. I didn't want to hurt you, but now I realize that I've been hurting you all along because the truth is, back when we started dating in college, you weren't the first girl I dated at school.

There was someone else. I fell in love with her on that first date and when I went to ask her for date two, I found that she was already planning to date someone else.

I was angry because while I'd been falling for her, she had been a regular college kid who was playing the field and having a good time.

That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted a relationship, and I found that with you. Still, that didn't kill the feelings I had for her.

I'm sorry I've lied to you all this time by having feelings for another woman. I'm sorry I asked you to marry me when I knew my heart belonged somewhere else. I'm sorry for doing this to you. But most of all, I'm sorry that this entire time we've been together, I've also been with Michelle.

My eyes double in size when I read the name of my best friend. The letter falls from my hand as I look up to meet my mother's eyes.

"He's not coming, is he." The tears quickly overfill my eyes and run down my cheeks.

"No, sweetheart. He's not," Mom answers.

***

My eyes pop open and I see nothing but the pink wall of my childhood bedroom.

It's been two months since the day I learned that my fiancé had been cheating on me with my best friend, and my life has gone to total shit.

I lost the man I thought I was going to spend my life with.

I lost my best friend. I lost my home, my hope, and my future.

I had no choice but to move back in with my parents after living on my own since I left for college at the age of eighteen.

The past couple of months have been so hard.

One thing that's hard to get used to after you've lived on your own is coming back home to a full house, full of noise.

At seven in the morning, my mom is banging around in the kitchen, trying to prepare breakfast.

My dad is stomping up and down the hallway, hollering down at my mother to ask for everyday items he should know where to find.

"Honey, where are my socks?" he yells.

"They're in your sock drawer just like every morning, David," she yells back.

I roll onto my back and stare at the white ceiling tiles, feeling my body fill with annoyance.

"Mom! Have you seen my black skirt? I'm going to be late," my sister, Kinsley, yells.

"It's in the laundry room, remember?" Mom hollers back up.

"Can't anyone shut up around here?" Parker, my brother, screams.

Suddenly, everything is quiet. Taking a deep breath that I let out slowly, I roll onto my other side and close my eyes, trying to go back to sleep.

"I can't find it!" Kinsley screams.

My eyes pop open and I shove off the blankets and sit up, putting my feet on the floor.

I rest my elbows on my knees and lean forward, holding my head in my hands.

This is ridiculous.

People in this house don't care if anyone else is asleep.

Suddenly, I'm wondering how I survived growing up here.

I miss having my own place, where I could wake up to silence.

I miss going to the kitchen and making a cup of coffee that I could sit on the couch and sip while reading a book.

I miss being able to wake up softly and slowly, rather than being rattled awake in shock.

Knowing that there's no going back to sleep now, I stand and exit my room.

I quickly use the bathroom, surprised that it isn't already occupied by someone since everyone wants to get up and start moving at the same time.

I head down the stairs and move into the kitchen.

Mom has the radio playing as she stands behind the stove, frying bacon. I grab a cup from the cabinet and pour myself some coffee.

"Good morning, hun," Mom says, watching me the same way she has for two months now—like I'm about to break or burst into tears.

"Morning, Mom." I turn and take a seat at the kitchen table.

She comes and sits beside me. "Kay, I know you're going through a hard time right now, but don't you think you've holed up here long enough?"

I frown as I look at her.

She shows me her palms as her brows arch. "I'm not pushing by any means. It's just that I see how miserable you are here, yet you're not making any attempts to change anything. You're floating. I've given you time to redirect, but you're not doing that. So, I can't help but feel like I need to give you a little push."

Dad walks into the kitchen. He grabs the pot of coffee and pours the entire thing into his thermos.

Then he stuffs a piece of bacon into his mouth before sitting at the table, dropping his boots loudly to the floor. "Good morning," he says, leaning in and kissing Mom. "How are two of my favorite girls?"

I ignore him because I'm too focused on what my mom is saying.

She's telling me that I'm twenty-four years old and I need to get my ass out of her house.

She's just using nicer words because part of her is still scared that I'll break.

But she's right.

I'm a second-grade teacher at the elementary school in town.

I have a good job. I shouldn't be living back at home.

I have more than enough money in the bank to take care of myself.

I still have two months before school starts back up.

I've wasted two months of my summer vacation hiding and mourning the loss of my relationship.

I need to find something to dedicate my time to. And something that will get me out of my parents' house.

I take a deep breath before sipping my coffee. "Is it still okay if I keep Grandma's house? Even though I didn't get married?"

Grandma passed away six months ago, but she left her house to me as a wedding gift.

"Of course, it's okay," Dad says, tugging on his boots. "I don't want the place, and nobody else is stepping up to claim it. She wanted you to have it, so it's yours. Plus, I think we all know that you're the only one who will fix it up anyway."

I grin, knowing he's right.

My sister wouldn't want to move into an old Victorian house that needs to be fixed up.

She wants something new. And my brother is destined to leave town the moment he can.

I'm the only one who's ever planned to stick around.

I nod. "That's what I'll do, then." I look at Mom. "I'll spend the rest of the summer fixing up Gram's house so I can move into it."

Dad stands, snatching another piece of bacon. "I have a friend in the construction business. If you want, I'll give him a call, and he can give you an estimate on what everything will cost."

I smile, my chest now filling with excitement. "Thanks, Dad."

He nods, gives Mom one last kiss, and turns for the door.