Boss Daddy: A Secret Baby Romance by Black, L. (good books for high schoolers .TXT) 📕

my mother was an added level of stress that made my stomach hurt. I could swear I could take live rounds with less stress than that forty-eight-hour window was giving me. There were so many tightropes to walk, so many ways things could go terribly, horribly wrong, but I held out hope it would all be fine. If I just kept my cool, stuck to the plan, and put one foot in front of the other, I could have it all.

The last thing I wanted was for Hannah to make any indication that we were together any more seriously than potential dating. I knew my mom, and if we put any labels on what we were, she would be off to the races planning our wedding and naming our children after long-distant relatives I wasn’t aware we had. Her imagination and enthusiasm were legendary.

Hannah and I were clearly in some form of relationship, but we hadn’t given any labels to it or talked about it. There eventually would be a conversation, I knew, but I wasn’t sure when we would have it. I knew I had no plans on sleeping with anyone else, and I was more than ready to be exclusive, and I had a feeling she was, too. But the fact remained, I didn’t want my mother planning what dishes she was going to give as a wedding gift before Hannah and I had a chance to even discuss what this new relationship meant and to figure out what we would do about my impending Portland move.

On our way to Mom’s house, I turned the radio down, and Hannah turned to me.

“So, before we get there, I just wanted to warn you, Mom is rather excitable and is excited to meet you specifically. She might say something about us dating. Just ignore her,” I said.

Hannah laughed, putting her hand on mine on the center console.

“Why? What’s so exciting about me?” she asked.

“She’s just the type of person that will go to the extremes when it comes to her boys. She’s watched all of my brothers but Matt and I get married and start having kids, and she really wants us too as well,” I said. “I just don’t want her to run you off, you know?”

“She won’t,” Hannah laughed. “I’m excited to meet her. Nervous, too. But I won’t be offended if she says something about us being together. It’s nice she cares so much about you that she wants you to be happy.”

There was a note of sadness in those words, and I felt for her. Her own parents didn’t care if she was happy or not, as long as she did what they wanted her to do. In that way, she was right. It was nice that Mom cared so much about us. That she wanted us all to have a partner and a family. But I was still very aware that what Hannah and I had was very new, and Mom had been a bit much for girls in the past that my brothers brought home, resulting in promising relationships fizzling out quickly.

When we arrived, I opened the door to the shuffling feet of my mother, who was on her way to open the door. I smiled and opened my arms, and Mom fell in for a big bear hug. She kissed me on the cheek and nearly pushed me out of the way to get her first look at Hannah.

“You must be Hannah,” she said. “I am so pleased to meet you. We’re huggers here.”

Giving Hannah no other option, she threw herself around her, and Hannah laughed as she patted Mom on the back with arms that were pinned to her sides.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” she said. “Thank you for having me over.”

“Oh, that’s no big deal at all,” Mom said, leaving the hug long enough to stare at her for a second. “My goodness, Jordan was right, you are absolutely beautiful.”

“Jordan,” Hannah said teasingly. “Thank you, Mrs. Anderson.”

“Come on in, you two. Dinner’s ready,” Mom said, taking Hannah by the hand and leading her inside.

I chuckled and shook my head as she showed her the bottom floor of the house. Dad’s chair was still the eyesore of the room, but it was my favorite place in the house now. Sitting there reminded me of him, and had dinner not been ready already, I likely would have taken the opportunity to sit and relax in it for a few minutes.

As I got into the dining room, I could see Mom had been busy. There were dishes all over the table, including some of Mom’s regular hits. It was enough food to feed the whole family, most likely, but it was just the three of us. Which meant she was fully intending on sending most of it home with us. Already I was trying to figure out how in the world I was going to fit it all inside my refrigerator.

We sat, and Mom immediately launched into stories about our childhood. Thankfully, she kept away from some of the more embarrassing things in our past and seemed to be a bit more reserved due to my requests from immediately assuming we were planning a wedding date. When dinner was over and Mom brought out her infamous tiramisu, I indulged as I always did in a slice that could be better described as “half a cake.”

“This was my specialty,” Mom said. “Ever since I married Jordan’s father, I have made homemade tiramisu every Sunday night. This week I didn’t feel like eating any, and none of the other boys have come by. So, you two are getting the spoils.”

“It looks delicious,” Hannah said.

“It is,” I said. “It’s my favorite thing she makes.”

“He asked for it for his birthday three years in a row,” Mom said, her voice trailing off as she slipped into her memories. “So did his father. Peas in a pod they were.”

“He used to sneak down in the middle of the