Can't Help My Shelf (His Curvy Librarian Book 3), Frankie Love [beginner reading books for adults .TXT] 📗

definitely don’t want all these hardened soldiers teasing me mercilessly if I confess how much my mind is still on her.

The truth is that not a day goes by—hell, sometimes not even an hour—that I don’t think about Nora, and the new life we may have created together.

Especially late at night, when I’m lying in my bunk and trying to fall asleep, I think about how it’s only early afternoon where Nora is and she’ll be getting off work soon. I wonder if she knows whether she’s pregnant yet, and if she’d want to tell me if she was.

And then I think about how I promised I wouldn’t interfere, and how hard that’s gonna be in practice.

I miss her… more than I ever thought I could miss someone.

And the not knowing is quietly killing me.

11

Nora

4 weeks later…

I’m just getting home from a library shift when my phone chimes. I leave it for a couple of minutes while I get changed into comfy leggings and settle onto the couch with the smoothie I picked up on my way home.

Lately I’ve been all about the creamy peanut butter and banana ones that Golden Creek Creamery makes, and I’m trying not to read too much into that. I’ve done all my research—I’m a librarian, after all—and I know that cravings are one of the first signs of pregnancy. But it’s barely been long enough for a missed cycle, and I’m trying not to get ahead of myself.

Sometimes a girl just gets on a smoothie kick, and it doesn’t have to mean anything.

I’m drinking this one down so fast I’m on the verge of a brain freeze when I remember the message waiting for me. I retrieve my phone and find a text from Nash.

Don’t want to be a pest… just wondering if you’ve taken a pregnancy test yet.

My pulse quickens—both at the sight of Nash’s name on phone, and at the idea of removing all doubt about whether or not I’m pregnant.

He’s texted a few times, always apologetic and sweet, wanting to know how I’m doing and if I’ve seen Chelsea (she never misses a storytime), but mostly curious about whether our little experiment worked out.

Every time so far, I’ve told him it’s too soon to know.

Biologically, that’s not quite true. I could make another appointment at the fertility center, or spring for one of the more expensive, more sensitive drug store tests that can give results sooner. The truth is that I’m not ready to know. I’m not ready to find out if I’m having Nash’s baby because the longer he’s away from me, the more I miss him.

I’m afraid I’ve gone and fallen in love with the guy, which is problem enough given his career. If I’m pregnant with his child, that’s a whole other level of complications.

But it’s been four weeks and one way or another, I’m going to find out the truth soon.

I’ll take the test tomorrow, I promise Nash in a return text, then set down my phone and return to my smoothie. He’ll probably be relieved if it’s negative. I can’t imagine what’s going through his head lately, worrying about whether he chained his life to mine forever on some silly whim.

But me… I’m pretty sure I’ll be heartbroken if the test comes out negative.

The next day, I’m on pins and needles all morning.

I work the circulation desk for a while, but it’s Wednesday and we’re slow as usual. All the grown-ups are at work and all the school-aged kids are in class, and there’s no storytime scheduled for today to keep me occupied.

I flip through a few new picture books, trying to pick one out for next week, and a little before lunch time, Cassidy and Brooklyn find me sitting on a beanbag chair in the children’s section, a board book in my lap. I’m just kind of spacing out, worrying about what I promised Nash I’d do today instead of actually reading.

“Hey, you look worried,” Cass says, plopping down in the beanbag next to mine. “What’s going on?”

I clutch the board book to myself, knowing darn well that even if I am pregnant I won’t have a baby bump just yet and nonetheless feeling like my body will give away my secret. Maybe it’s already written across my face.

Brooklyn sits on the carpet in front of us both, her hand comfortingly on my knee. I let out a breath and say, “Do you remember when I was looking for sperm donors, thinking about having a baby on my own?”

“Umm, how could we forget?” my sister asks with a smile. “Are you gonna go for it?”

“Well…”

Brooklyn’s mouth drops open. “Did you already do it and not tell us?!”

“Not exactly,” I say, and then in one long exhalation, the whole truth comes out at last.

How I’d confessed my plan to Nash after our date, and the offer that he made. How incredible and passionate and tender our second night together had been. How he’s in Italy now and I’m a fool who went and fell in love with him, and now I’m afraid to take a pregnancy test.

When I finish explaining it all, I look sheepishly between my sister and my best friend. “Am I insane?”

Cassidy chuckles. “Yes, but I fully support this.”

Now it’s my turn to look shocked. “You do?”

“Hell yes,” she says, then holds a hand over her mouth and looks around to make sure there are no kids nearby. There aren’t, but she whispers as she repeats herself. “Hell yes, Nor. You’ve always wanted a family—the whole shebang, kids and a loving partner to raise them with. It sounds like you got what you wanted, just not how you were expecting.”

“Umm…” I look at her like she’s got worms crawling out of her ears. “Did you miss the part about how he’s halfway around the world and we agreed on a no-strings attached arrangement?”

“Nope,” Cass says. “And I didn’t miss the part where you said you love him, either. It’s