Farm Girl Has Bad Boy (#3)

Chapter Thirty-Two

“You really need to stop doing the whole fainting thing.” My eyes flutter open at the sound of Emery’s voice, but it takes me a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight above me. “Especially now that you’re pregnant, because it’s getting harder to carry you.”

I narrow my eyes and smack Emery’s arm with the back of my hand. His arms are wrapped around me and I’m leaning against his chest with my legs sprawled on the green grass. “The last thing you should be doing right now is hinting at my weight.” Everything comes back to me and it feels like my heart is breaking in half.

I look around me and don’t see Patch’s grave or Ocean’s anywhere. It takes me a second, but I realize we’re sitting on the hill that overlooks the farm, only we’re sitting the opposite way. In front of us are all the fields, bright in the warm sun.

“How did you get me all this way?” I murmur, brushing my hair out of my eyes.

“So you can hint at your own weight but I can’t make a true statement?” Emery asks with a crooked smile. He raises his eyebrows and I roll my eyes.

“You’re pushing your luck. I just mean on top of being pregnant and carrying this extra weight, I’m also passed out.” I turn to meet his eyes and he leans us back so he can stare at the sky. Only a few white, fluffy clouds float by, creating different shapes against the blue.

“Well, at school I’m not sitting on a couch eating potato chips, River,” Emery laughs, giving me a smile. “Are you okay to head back to the farmhouse? Your mom’s been making an early dinner and Mary’s parents are here.”

I shrug and start to push myself to my feet. Before I can even sit up, Emery’s standing, helping me get onto my feet. When I’m standing, I roll my eyes and push him playfully away.

“My mom’s right, you are like an over-protective mother.”

Emery pretends to look insulted and then loops his fingers through mine. We walk much slower than needed down the hill towards the house, neither of us saying anything. After a few minutes of complete silence, Emery turns to me with curious eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He wonders, staring at me intently.

“How one person can change another’s life so much,” I murmur in response, too immersed in my own thoughts.

Emery stops and I turn to him as he drops my hand. “You’re talking about me.” He meets my gaze, but his eyes looked hardened; cold.

“Yes,” I reply softly. “But I’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing. Sure, things I wish never would happen happened,” I pause, searching for the right words. “But all my life I’ve wanted things to be more interesting, not boring like they’ve always been. And even though I have some regrets, meeting you isn’t one of them.” I reach for his hand and intertwine our fingers.

Emery sighs a breath of relief and closes the space between us, wrapping me in a tight hug. He kisses the top of my head affectionately. “I love you so much, River,” he murmurs. “I don’t think I could ever live without you.”

Dinner goes by normally. Despite the events of the past few days, everyone is happy and cheerful. Something about the way the Smiths are here, enjoying this dinner brings me back to the past. It’s a memory from a few years ago, where its thanksgiving dinner and we’re cutting the turkey. Even though I’m still in the present, looking at everyone’s faces makes me feel stuck in the past.

Emery squeezes my hand and I take a deep breath, letting go. I replace where Ocean was sitting with Emery, who rests out cupped hands on my left knee.

“So the house is about halfway through,” my dad says, cutting his steak. He looks up briefly to meet my eyes.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a house,” my mom laughs, resting her hand on Mrs. Smith’s arm and she joins in at some inside joke I hadn’t been paying attention to. “If anything, I would call it a cottage.”

King barks, interrupting my dad’s sentence. Emery drops my hand and picks up a small square piece of steak from his plate. Moving his hand under the table so my parents don’t see, he gives it to King, who thanks him by licking his hand.

“Why don’t you kids do the dishes?” My mom suggests after everyone has finished eating. We don’t get to protest as the parents get up and quickly usher into the living room.

“I’ll wash,” Mary sighs, leading Emery and I into the kitchen.

“I’ll dry,” I respond, grabbing a cloth off the counter.

“Why am I always left to put them away?” Emery asks, leaning against the counter.

“Because you’re tall and can reach,” Mary shrugs, squeezing a soap bottle into the sink. “Which reminds me, what happened to your hair?”

“You forgot the water,” I mutter, flicking on the tap. “And he had to get it cut when he went into school. Also, how does being tall remind you of Emery’s lack of hair?” I give her a strange look and Mary shrugs.

“Well, when I think of tall, I think of how high up someone’s head is, which brings me to hair and that-“ I hold up my hand, cutting her off.

“Forget it, I don’t want to know.”

Mary rolls her eyes, handing me a plate. I’m in the middle of drying it when pain fills my stomach. Instantly, my fingers let go and it falls onto the floor, shattering into a million pieces. I double over, cradling my stomach as the pain passes.

“River?” Emery and Mary say in unison. They crouch down and hold me, calling for our parents. Taking a few deep breaths, I straighten out and move out of their grasps.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, unable to make my voice any louder.

“Honey?” My mother rushes in from the living room and wraps an arm around my back. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I repeat, as Emery pulls a kitchen chair towards me. He helps me sit and I put my head in my hands, trying to process what just happened.

Mary starts telling everyone what happened while I do my best to block everything out. Closing my eyes, I focus on my breathing, telling myself that what I think just happened isn’t happening. It can’t be. Not this soon.

I gasp as my stomach starts to hurt again. It feels like someone is burning me from the inside out. The pain only lasts for about thirty seconds before it starts to go away, and I fear for the worst.

“I’m calling the doctor,” my mother says worriedly, rushing towards the phone. She starts dialing as Mrs. Smith crouches in front of me, resting her hand gently on my knee.

“River, it’s going to be okay,” she says softly, brushing my hair behind my ear. “I know what you’re thinking and there’s no reason to jump to conclusions. Right Emery?” I look at Emery in hope that he can make me feel calm however he looks as white as a ghost. In fact, he looks stunned. He stands leaning against the counter, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stares in shock at me. “Thomas?” Mrs. Smith and I both look to my dad, who in fact, looks exactly like Emery.

My mom walks back over to us and stands completely still. Her eyes look extremely scared and worried, however she’s still smiling in excitement. “I just talked to the doctor,” she says, her voice shaky. Instantly, I cover my mouth with my hands, already knowing what she’s going to say. This can’t be happening. It’s much too early. “River, Emery,” she says, grabbing each of our hands. “The baby is coming.”