Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

“Hey, I think we’re supposed to wait back there,” he says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. He leads me back to an empty waiting room, proving that he actually was listening to the nurse earlier.

No sooner than we sit down, a different nurse peeks her head around the corner.

“Ms. Erickson?” I immediately stand, but she continues to talk. “We are running a little bit behind this morning. It’s going to be a few minutes, okay?” She kindly smiles, and I give her a quick nod before she’s gone again.

I settle back down into my seat as Caleb picks up a parenting magazine and absently flips through it.

“We need to get married already,” he says randomly with some emotion I can’t pinpoint. Annoyance? Anger? Frustration? Whatever it is, it all leads to the exact same answer.

“Um, no we don’t,” I answer, quickly looking away.

“Excuse me?” he says entirely too loud.

“I said we don’t need to get married. That is the very last thing we need right now.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You don’t want to get married?”

“Wow, was that a proposal?” I ask sarcastically. We are in the middle of a doctor’s office waiting room. This is definitely not the place to be having this conversation.

“Maybe,” he responds with a blank stare aimed over my shoulder.

“You are such a romantic, Caleb Jones. Who knows? Maybe in few years, you can try that again.” I’ve once again resorted to being a smartass.

“A few years?” He jumps to his feet and pushes a hand through his hair. “So let me get this straight. You don’t want to get married?”

“No, not right now. Can you please calm the hell down?”

“What was all the ‘you’re it for me’ bullshit then?

“You are it for me. What the hell is going on?”

“So let me get this straight. You love me, and I’m it for you, but you don’t want to get married?” The anger—and if I’m not mistaken, fear—paints his face. “For Christ’s sake, we’re having a baby, Emma.” The lack of my nickname suddenly makes me realize that this is really fucking serious, but he also just hit the nail on the head. We’re having a baby.

“And?”

“Ms. Erickson, we’re ready for you,” the nurse calls from behind Caleb.

“Can we please talk about this later?” I whisper-yell, standing to head for the nurse.

“I’ve got to get out of here.” He begins to walk away, but I grab his arm, stopping him.

“What is wrong with you? You can’t just leave me here.”

“I just got a really fucking bad case of déjà vu.” He pulls his arm away and walks past the nurse and out of the room.

Stunned, I look around the room, trying to figure out what just happened. Did he really just walk out and leave me here alone? Yep. Completely alone.

“Ms. Erickson?” the nurse repeats, but I’m rooted to the ground.

I can’t go in there alone. I needed Caleb to lean on, but he just walked out the door with no explanation. It was a fight. Not the end of the world. Yet here I stand, abandoned because Caleb needed to pout like a child. I don’t think I have ever been so hurt in my life.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” I walk forward to meet her. I’m so angry at him I can’t even bring myself to cry.





NO. NO fucking way am I doing this again. I will not, under any circumstances, beg another woman to marry me. Not even Emma, no matter if she is carrying my child. I will not be sucked into that black hole of heartache again. Once was way more than enough.

How is it even remotely possible for two people to talk as much as Emma and I do yet still be completely confused about where we are in our relationship? I may not have given her a proper proposal, but I sure as shit expected an overwhelming yes. I didn’t really mean to propose at all, but if I have to listen to them call her Ms. Erickson one more time, I am going to lose my ever-loving mind. I told her a month ago that she was it for me, and I meant it. However, Emma obviously meant something completely different. I know we haven’t been together long, but I know without a doubt, I want Emma to be my forever—just not enough to beg for it. I’ve been there and done that, and I’ll never fucking go back.

Forty-five minutes later, Emma finally walks out of the doctor’s office. The anger on her face matches my own.

“Take me to Sarah’s,” she says, climbing into the truck.

I try to respond calmly, but my voice is still raw from her rejection. “No. We are going home. We need—”