by M. E. Carter
Table of Contents
Matters to You
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other Books by M.E. Carter
Matters to You
Copyright © 2020
By M.E. Carter
Editing: Janice Owen
Cover Design: Murphy Rae
Formatting: Uplifting Author Services
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. No part of this publication may be stored or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, people – living or dead – is entirely coincidental.
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ONE
Kiersten
“I’m so sorry it’s taking me longer than expected, babe. I promise I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I smile into the phone as my boyfriend and father of my unborn child does his best to beg forgiveness for not being home in time to help me register for all things baby.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned it this way so you could get out of it.”
He scoffs and then laughs, likely seeing the same irony I do—he’s been complaining about having to do this for a week and once he’s finally on board, the weather is what thwarts our plans.
I can’t stay mad at him for it, though. Spencer Woodrow and I had only been dating for a couple of months when we found out I was pregnant. Having a baby at twenty-one years old wasn’t in either of our plans and took some adjusting for both of us. But I have to admit, six months into the pregnancy and it hasn’t been horrible so far. I have a loving, supportive boyfriend. I have loving, supportive friends. And I’m one of those obnoxious women who feels fantastic during pregnancy—all glowy and cute and healthy.
The only downside is my parents have all but disowned me, not that I’m surprised. The perfection of Kiersten Willoughby, or more accurately lack thereof, has always been a point of contention in our relationship. Probably because I gave up trying long ago and started doing my own thing. That meant ditching pointe shoes and pink leotards for dancing heels and booty shorts. No, I’m not a stripper. Contemporary dance is just more my style. Ballet doesn’t give me the same type of creativity. Not to mention, jobs are much harder to come by.
Not that I’ll be working in my profession of choice any time soon. My huge baby bump put a temporary hold on that pretty damn quick. It’s remarkable how even the most liberal-minded parent suddenly thinks twice when they learn their child’s dance teacher is an unmarried pregnant college student. Or at least that was the explanation my boss gave me when I was “relieved of my duties.” Who knows? Maybe it was actually her disdain for seeing a baby bump in a leotard. Regardless, it’s a right-to-work state, and fighting it under the legal guise of “discrimination” was too much effort.
Besides, Spence comes from a well-to-do family. It’s not like his baby will want for anything. He assures me all the time as soon as his parents meet me and more importantly, our son, they’ll fall in love with both of us.
“While I appreciate that I get to miss part of our appointment, I can’t take credit for my absence,” Spence jokes. “My study group ran long and now it’s raining really hard. Are you sure you don’t want to reschedule?”
“You know I can’t.” I absentmindedly run my hand over my bump. Pressing down in the usual spot, I’m rewarded with a small nudge from inside me. It makes me smile. “My shower is in a month and people need time to plan. Besides, we’re five minutes away and Lauren has Heath’s giant truck with her. We’ll mow down anyone who gets in our way.”
From the couch adjacent to me, Lauren giggles. She tried to get out of driving the truck she refers to as “the monster” so she could bring her roommate’s car instead, but her boyfriend wouldn’t hear of it. Something about safety being more important than style. I thought it was funny when she told me. Now, I should probably call and thank Heath. His giant truck will come in handy during this downpour.
Spence chuckles and I can’t help but think about how lucky I am that he’s so good to me. To us. Things could have turned out so much worse.
“Alright, alright. Just take it slow and I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”
“We will. I promise. Text me when you get there and we’ll meet you at the front so you can have your turn with the scanner gun.”
“Will do. And take care of Baby Archie for me.”
“We’re not naming him after a prince,” I argue. Again.
“He doesn’t have a royal title so he’s not a prince. Loveyoubye.” Spence yells back and hangs up on me.
I stare at the phone, mouth agape.
“He got the last word in about the baby’s name again, didn’t he?” Lauren smiles as she lifts her travel cup of water to her lips.
“Every. Single. Time.” I toss my phone on the couch and settle in. We still have some time before we have to leave for the appointment. “How’s it feeling?” I gesture to Lauren’s leg as she massages just above her knee. The tibia fracture that knocked her out of the entire gymnastics competition season last year is finally healed. But from the looks of it, it still bothers her. “Does it ache?”
“Mostly when it’s going to rain.”
“Or if you do too many tumbling passes?”
She crinkles her nose, knowing she’s been caught. “Just don’t tell my coach, okay?”
“You should be more worried about me telling Heath.”
Lauren shrugs. “He’s an athlete. What’s he gonna say? ‘Don’t work out so hard’? He knows I’ll throw that right back at him the next time he’s bruised up from a game.”
“This is why you two are perfect together. You understand each other.”
�
��You have no idea,” she murmurs and reaches over to the table, picking up a notebook.
I don’t know that I’ll ever understand how Heath and Lauren ended up together. Those two used to verbally spar with the best of them. But I suppose once your perception of someone changes, well, everything else changes too. Now they’re what I like to refer to as a power couple—cheering each other on at every game or meet, pushing each other during workouts, making sure they’re both stocked up in IcyHot and ibuprofen. It’s fun to see Lauren happy and in love. She deserves it.
“I can’t wait for you to see my new floor routine. Christmas Eve Sarajevo is amazing music for tumbling. And the turn sequence at the end makes me feel like I can do anything.”
Thinking about the music, I can envision how Lauren turned such a powerful song into an equally powerful routine. For just a split second, it makes me yearn to dance again.
Then the moment is gone when Lauren flips open the cover of her notebook and poises her pen into the ready position. “Okay. Baby shower. I need a list of people to invite.”
“Just do me one favor.” She nods and gestures for me to continue. “My sister really wants to help. Or at least feel like she’s helping. I know she’s still in high school, but can you call her and ask her opinion on things? Just a couple of times.”
Lauren doesn’t skip a beat. “Of course. I’m glad Nicole is so excited. Is she going to be able to come?”
I shrug because I don’t really know. “That’s the million-dollar question. I’m almost positive my mom won’t be there but I’m hoping she’ll at least let Nicole come. Even if it’s just to report back on how horribly bloated and exhausted I look and how much better off I would be if I’d just lived life their way in the first place.”
Lauren laughs through her nose. “Sounds… stifling.”
I shrug. “Their loss. Either they’ll know their first grandchild or they won’t. At this point, I don’t really care.”
I might eventually, but not today. Today is all about planning the celebration of my little boy’s birth.
Lauren and I spend a good thirty minutes discussing baby shower guests and games. I try to veto the one where everyone has to cut off the same amount of ribbon as the circumference of my belly, but apparently, this isn’t a democracy and she’s going to do it anyway. As long as there’s cake, I guess I’ll survive.
“The only thing we need to really figure out is where to have this party,” Lauren remarks as she continues jotting down ideas. “I don’t know the area well enough so I might need to defer to you on this part.”
“I bet the community group on social media would know.”
“You think?”
“Oh yeah. People are always asking for venues and specific businesses. Hang on.”
I find the page I’m looking for and begin searching for a decent venue to hold a party. I know I’ve seen a whole thread about it before. But then one post in particular catches my eye.
***CAUTION*** AVOID AVENUE R AT THE CORNER OF CINCINNATI. MAJOR ACCIDENT.
“Well shit,” I grumble.
“What?”
“There’s a car accident close to here. I think we have to go that way to get to the store. Let me see how long ago it was. Maybe it’s cleared already. Otherwise, we need to go soon so we can find a way around it.”
“Is it bad?”
“I can’t tell yet. Just says its major.”
I click on the post and my heart stops. A picture of the wreck has been posted in the comments and it looks like Spence’s car. With a black sheet over it.
My breathing speeds up as I zoom in but can’t see enough of the back window to tell if the spot in the bottom right corner is a promo sticker from his favorite radio station, or something else. Surely, it’s something else. It’s someone else’s car. It can’t be Spence’s. I’m just overreacting. Mazda has lots of cars out there. Millions. It could be a million different people. Not my Spence.
The comments, though, do little to ease my mind.
It’s going to be here a while, guys. An ambulance came out but they never took anyone away and they’ve stopped working. Pray for these people.
I’m here. Overheard an officer say they’re waiting for the medical examiner.
Y’all pray for the families. That black sheet isn’t a good sign. Usually that’s only to cover the scene when someone has died.
“No, no, no, NO.” My voice sounds shrill as I close the app and try to call Spence.
“Kiersten, what’s wrong?”
I know Lauren is trying to talk to me, but I can barely hear her over the sounds of his phone ringing and my own heartbeat.
“Pick up, Spence. Come on, baby. Pick up.”
Finally, someone answers. “Hey, this is Spence. You know what to do.”
Dammit. I hang up, uninterested in leaving a voice message. I need to hear him, alive and breathing.
Dialing again, I continue my ministrations. “Come on, Spence. Answer the phone. Pull over if you have to. Please answer.”
“Kiersten, what’s wrong?”
I ignore her, waiting. Voicemail picks up again. I redial.
Small nudges begin pushing against my abdomen and I instinctually cradle my baby, our baby, as I try to reach his father. As I pray my life didn’t just change forever because of a damn social media post.
“Come on, Spence,” I say louder this time. “We need you, baby. Don’t leave us. Answer the phone.”
He never does.
TWO
Kiersten
Three years later
Our new place isn’t huge, but it feels cramped with a toddler, three women, and two men—including a huge pro football player—standing in the living room. It doesn’t help that we’re surrounded by boxes.
I had to have all this help, though. It took all of us to move the never-ending piles of boxes without losing the toddler.
One exhausting day is nothing, though. I’ve lived through worse. Far worse. A cramped room and a long list of things to do is still a far cry from all the ugliness and despair I left behind. I’m choosing to focus on our new beginnings. I have a healthy son, a safe place to live, and good friends to help me move. Friends that have helped me get through the other crap I’ve been dealing with the last several years too.
Yeah. Life could be worse than being surrounded by people who love me.
“So, listen.” Lauren plops down on the floor next to me and promptly yawns. We’re exhausted from a full day of driving a moving truck and hauling furniture. If I never move again it’ll be too soon.
“Heath and I were talking.”
I look over at my best friend, a smirk on my face. Whenever she tells me they’ve been talking, that usually means they have an idea they want me to subscribe to.
Like the time they “talked about” me making a will and giving them custody of Carson if something were to happen to me.
Or the time they “talked about” paying the deposits and two month’s rent on this apartment to make sure no one swooped in before I could get here.
Or the time they “talked about” co-signing on my car.
Admittedly, they were all really good ideas that I’m grateful for. “Leath,” as I call them when they’re not looking because they’re basically a power couple, are just liars. They haven’t been “talking about” anything. They’ve been “making decisions” on how to take care of me. No matter how much I protest, it won’t do any good. Neither of them will back down. Lauren, because she loves me. Heath, because he loves my son. And I think he loves me, too. It took a while but we’ve found our footing as friends and pseudo-family.
“And what decision did you come to about my life this time?”
Lauren smiles sheepishly at me because she knows I’m right. She also knows I’m not angry about it. I never would have made it through the last three years without them. If anything, I’m embarrassed by how grateful I am.
“We want to help you pay for child care.” I start to protest bu
t she stops me quickly. “Not forever. Just until you get on your feet.”
“Lauren, I appreciate it but I can afford it right now. I’m just doing drop-ins as needed.”
“I know. But I also know your savings isn’t going to last forever. You didn’t get that much money from Spence’s family.” We both grimace at the thought of Wicked Witch Woodrow and her dancing monkey supporters who have made my life a living hell. “Heath and I would feel better if Carson could go to a good place at least part-time so he can make some friends and be social and stuff. He’s going to need daycare when you work anyway. This just transitions him into it.”
I sigh and drop my head back against the wall. “I really want to put my foot down, but I don’t know how else to make it through all this right now. I know it’ll get better when Carson is older and in school but—”
“But he’s in diapers right now, Kiersten.”
“Which I’m working on.”
“Not the point right now. He’ll get there,” Lauren cuts in. “You’re a single mom with zero support from your family. And Heath has a thirty-million-dollar contract with a twenty-mill signing bonus. It’s not like we’re stretching our budget to fit in daycare while you get settled.”
“Remind me again why you work?”
Lauren raises her hand and I know she’s about to tick off all the reasons on her fingers. “First of all…”
I snicker because I know her so well.
“… we’re not married and I’ll be damned if I’m going to shoot my future self in the foot by having a gap in my employment.”
“Heath would never leave you.”
“No, he wouldn’t. But shit happens and I prefer to be prepared. Second,” she continues, “I have way too much energy to stay home. I would die of boredom or Heath would kill me for following him around for some adult interaction. And last, one of the perks of being the office manager of a gymnastics training facility is getting to work out with the team a couple of nights a week.”
“That’s a definite bright spot.”
“Beats the hell out of spending my evenings in step aerobics or on a treadmill.”