Surprise Secret Baby: This Secret Baby, #8

By Rachel Foster

Jack seemingly has everything. A nice job, a nice house and a beautiful wife. However, his lack of presence at home has made things difficult between him and his wife Mackenzie. To make matters worse, there's a teacher at Mackenzie's school who keeps trying to come inbetween their marriage. Now Mackenzie is pregnant with their baby, but is afraid to tell Jack. She wants to ensure that they stay together because they're supposed to and not because of their baby. After spending the summer away, she comes back to find herself still not being able to let Jack go. She knows she has to tell him the truth about her pregnancy. Will they be able to work things out or will divorce be their only hope? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: 3rd Publishing
• Release date: Mar 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215431405

Book preview

Surprise Secret Baby

Rachel Foster

Copyright © 2018 by Rachel Foster

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Epilogue

1

J

ack

The house was silent as I walked inside, the only sound in the space the squeak of my sneakers against the tile and the jingle of my car keys in my hand. I glanced around the darkened foyer, my eyes passing from the living room on the left to the kitchen on the right. The stairs in front of me were blanketed in darkness. No light spilled from the bedroom. That meant Mackenzie was asleep.

I sighed as I quietly hung my keys on the hook near the door. I slowly shut the door, cringing at the squeak of the hinges in the rigid silence of the house. She was a heavy sleeper, sure, but I didn’t want to disturb her, especially when I wasn’t sure what kind of mood she was in.

It’s hard to tell these days, I thought as I bolted the door and turned left to slip off my sneakers. Things have been weird lately.

I stood in the middle of the foyer with my arms hanging limply at my sides. The baseball game had gone on much longer than anticipated with my team of boys really ringing the visiting team dry by the end of it. I was proud of my team, and I had made sure to show them by taking them all out for ice cream. And then, it took even longer with Joey fighting Alex about getting the same exact cone, and Conner decided he wanted sprinkles after sitting down, and every single parent in the vicinity wanted to congratulate me on being such a good coach.

It was nearly midnight now. Of course, Mackenzie was asleep. Why wouldn’t she be?

I hung my head forward and headed for the stairs, taking them one at a time, slowly lifting one foot and not lifting the other until it was fully applied to the next carpeted step. I padded down the hall to the right and slipped into the bedroom.

Though it was dark, I could make out the shapes of the furniture in the room. To the left was the closet doors, both closed, that led to the wall hosting the long dresser with a flat-screen television sitting on top. A mirror hung to the right, then the window, then a nightstand, and then the bed.

The king-sized mattress sat against the opposite wall with a petite and lifeless lump sleeping on the right side. That would be my wife. Beside her was a nightstand with the digital red numbers on the clock blaring through the darkness. The clock struck midnight as I stared at it.

I rolled my right shoulder, working out a tense muscle as I made my way to the bathroom door on the right. I didn’t turn on the light until the door was closed. I dove into my after-game routine, taking my time to shower and wash the grime of the night off my skin. I brushed my teeth, wiped my chestnut brown hair with a towel, and stared at my reflection.

Is there something wrong with me?

The thought caught me off-guard as I studied my reflection. My chestnut brown hair was short, streaked now with leftover glistening drops of water, and my brown eyes the same shade as my hair squinted back at me. I had gained a little weight in the past year, but I was still fit, still relatively chiseled in all the right places. I flexed.

No, there’s nothing wrong with me, I corrected. Mac and I are just busy all the time.

Though the conclusion felt satisfying, a hint of something sinister lingered in the darkness of my mind. It shifted in the corners, lurking in the shadows, never showing its face unless I was truly and utterly obliterated by alcohol. That was the only time I considered what might be happening with my wife.

We’re just busy.

I shrugged away the last of that muddy darkness and shut out the light, fumbling for the handle of the bathroom door and causing more noise than I had intended. I cringed. Was every door in this house in need of WD-40?

I crossed the room, pulled on a pair of briefs, grabbed the remote from the top of the dresser, and carefully climbed into bed next to my wife. She stirred slightly. I frowned as I turned the television on. I knew it was late. I knew I said I would be home sooner, but how was I supposed to know that the game would take longer? If anything, Mac knew that games often ran well past their time. That was just how sports were.

And why was I already getting so heated about it?

Hi.

Her voice was soft and sweet under the white noise thrumming from the television. The news was on the screen, voices sneaking through the bedroom to reach my ears, but not quite loud enough for me to hear. I fumbled with the buttons on the remote to find the closed captioning.

Remembering that my wife had spoken to me, I turned and offered her a smile. Her eyes glittered in the light spilling from the television screen. Satin gray planets for eyes observed me for a moment, appearing curious, perhaps even flashing a bit of concern. But then, her mouth appeared from beneath the edge of the blanket, and she revealed a sleepy grin.

I leaned over to kiss her forehead, running my fingers through her silky cinnamon brown hair that spilled over the pillow in long waves. I tangled my fingers with the strands and untangled them. I dove back into the sea of her hair and brushed lovingly, smelling the scent of her vanilla conditioner released by the simple action.

I drew back from her forehead and turned to the television. Her soft sigh met my left ear, alerting me for a second as I heard the sheets rustle and felt her body shift. She was turning back over. She was facing the bathroom now. She didn’t say anything else. Was that good or bad?

More news. The closed captioning hardly kept up with the anchors, spewing words far past the lips that moved on the screen. I rolled my right shoulder, noticing the knot was returning with a vengeance. I flipped the channels and searched for something else, something that wasn’t depressing and didn’t remind me of the weird curtain of pure tension that hung between my wife and me in bed.

Mac’s phone buzzed, the sound resembling that of a tugboat if it had been shrunk down to a minuscule size. It was two quick vibrations, buzz buzz, and I always teased her about how she had a miniature tugboat in her pocket. She used to laugh at that joke. She didn’t laugh at it much anymore. It was more like a smile quirked the corner of her mouth and familiarity would fill her eyes as she wrinkled her nose. Just acknowledgment. That’s about as much as I got these days.

I resisted the urge to look. My wife had plenty of friends and she was close with her family, but I wasn’t sure any of them would send a text in the middle of the night. It was late. What time was it again? I tried not to turn my head, but I was curious, and the clock was on her side. I was just peeking at the time. That’s all.

I caught the screen before it blacked out. I noticed her sister’s name on the notification screen: Amber. There was just one sentence, one brief and quick phrase that was enough to pique my curiosity. I slid my legs over the edge of the bed and quietly stood up, rounding the bed so I could get closer to her phone. Mac was dead asleep. I could tell by the way her jaw slacked and her chest rose steadily with her breathing.

I tapped the phone screen to light it up again. The notification bar revealed the text, a brief sentence, a weird question, Have you talked to Jack yet?

I swallowed the sand in my mouth. The grains grated together, making the inside of my throat feel like sandpaper. It felt like that time I had tried to swallow a spoonful of cinnamon on a dare. It was thick, surprisingly coarse, and made me feel parched in an instant. I returned to my side of the bed and licked my lips repeatedly.

What does Mac need to talk to me about?

That shadowy monster reappeared, dancing at the edge of my brain. It was almost a complete thought, nearly fully formulated now that the seed of doubt was planted. All the thing needed was a little water and it would go into full beast mode.

What had Mac been talking to her sister about? And what did it have to do with me?

I rolled through a few potential things, normal things, the sort of things that any wife might talk to her husband about. Was it a new car? Did she want to work at a different school? I thought we worked well in the same place. I was the principal, and she was the third-grade schoolteacher. We made meetings fun. Everybody knew us and loved us. Why would she want to go somewhere else?

I cleared my throat. I cringed as I realized it was a little too loud, but I couldn’t help it. My throat was dry, and my tongue felt swollen, completely parched. I shook my head and went to the bathroom to fill a glass with water. I drank it down, refilled it, and shot it back like whiskey. I wished it was whiskey.

When I climbed back into bed, my brain continued its relentless search for what Amber could have meant. It was useless to try thinking about it. And if I asked, then I had to admit that I had peeked at her phone. I didn’t want to lose her trust.

But I also want to know what this is about, I reflected as I worked my jaw left and right. It’s going to bother me. I know it’s going to eat me alive. But there’s nothing I can do about it until she says something to me.

And that was it. I just didn’t need to worry about it. There was one more day left in the school week and then the weekend would open up, allowing the two of us to relax. Maybe she was waiting until tomorrow night to bring it up. That made sense. Maybe she just didn’t want to bother me during the week.

But what could be so important that she had to wait this long to bring it up?

2

M

ackenzie

The usual sounds of morning woke me up: Jack groaning as he rose from the sheets, Jack sighing as he shuffled to the bathroom, Jack flipping on the light, Jack turning on the faucet. All of those noises accumulated to tell me it was morning even though my alarm hadn’t yet gone off.

I blinked to clear my vision and focused on the red digits next to my bed. It was early. Jack probably had a meeting or something. Or maybe he was just trying to get away from me as fast as possible.

That seemed to be our dance lately. Either we were too busy doing other things, or we were just tired. We didn’t go on dates anymore. We didn’t have movie night. We occasionally had sex, but it seemed rushed and half-attempted as if we were just repeating the motions. Was that what we were doing?

I took a deep breath and sighed as I sat up from the bed. I swept my phone from the bedside table and unlocked it to read my messages. Amber had texted last night.

Have you talked to Jack yet?

I frowned as I locked my phone and set it face down on the table.

No, I haven’t, I thought as I stood up from the bed. God help me, I haven’t.

Morning, Jack said.

I glanced up to find him taking up the door frame, leaning one arm about eye height against the frame and pretending like he wasn’t flexing. But he was flexing. I could tell by the tautness of his torso muscles, the way the tendons in his neck appeared more defined, and the way he groaned as if he was straining.

I rolled my eyes. You’re going to hurt yourself.

Thought you could use a show this morning.

You woke up early. That means you have a meeting.

He dropped his arm and scraped his fingers through his chestnut brown hair. He shrugged, offering a small grin as he focused on the ground between us, the pale tan carpet fibers looking dingy. They probably needed to be cleaned. Just wanted to flex for you, babe.

Babe, I thought. He never says that unless he wants something.

Thanks, I whispered. I pointed to the sink. Can I get in there?

Sure, if you remember the password.

Please.

He raised his gaze, a hint of humor sparkling in his brown eyes as he stepped aside and gestured to the bathroom. He did look good. I wanted to let him know that I still thought that, too, so I swept my hand over his chest as I wandered by, eliciting a hiss and inspiring him to grab my hips. He hugged me. He didn’t kiss me or sweep me off my feet. He simply hugged me.

I sighed as I patted his back. Good morning.

Damn it, I’m late.

Even though you woke up early?

He groaned as he released me, flying around the room.

The moment was over. Whatever had passed between us, whatever electric charge had been building, had been cut short and it disappeared just like everything else. I let my shoulders drop as he rushed to get ready. I disappeared into the bathroom to do my business, brush my teeth, and started applying makeup.

I tousled my cinnamon brown hair, noticing the natural waves that had formed overnight. I smirked at my reflection.

I should wear it like this more often, I considered as I grabbed some product to put in my hair, something to retain the waves throughout the day. It looks nice.

Bye, babe!

Jack kissed my cheek, shocking me back into reality. I turned to face him, but he was gone in a flash, taking off like his life depended on it. I poked my head out to catch him rushing out the door. His footsteps faded into the distance and then the front door creaked open, wheezing as it shut. The bolt clicked into place. The faint sound of his car started up outside.

I sighed as I turned back to my reflection.

Bye, I whispered a little too late. I’ll see you later.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. I shook my head, willing them to fade away as I grabbed my eyeliner and my favorite peach-colored palette. I did my makeup quickly and added mascara, knowing that I wouldn’t want to cry as soon as makeup was on my face. I waited. I pinched my lips together, the pale coral red color matching my skin tone perfectly. My petite body shuddered as I held back tears.

Once the moment passed, I shrugged, put on a fake smile, and tried to convince myself that everything would be fine. Eventually, everything would be sorted.

Have you talked to Jack yet?

I squeezed my eyes shut. The tears returned, but I held them back as best I could as I sidled toward the closet on the other side of the room. I plucked a spring green blouse from the rack, grabbed a flowing brown skirt, and pulled them on. I slipped on a pair of green flats and stood in front of the mirror.

Don’t do the braid. You don’t have to do the braid again.

I considered the lessons for the day. Were we working with paint again? I hummed as I tapped my chin, going over my lesson plans in my head. I nodded when I realized there wasn’t paint on the menu, but I grabbed a hair tie just in case I needed it. When I was ready, I collected my phone.

No, I replied to my sister. I haven’t, but I need to.

And then, I left for work, hoping I wouldn’t run into my husband too much.

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As expected, I needed my hair tie. Joey had gotten into the paints—even though it wasn’t a painting day—and decided that the desks needed a little color. After speaking clearly and plainly to him about cleanliness, I encouraged him to clean it up after folding my hair into a braid and tossing it over my shoulder to keep it from getting wet.

I still managed to get bright blue speckles in my hair. I wiped them out when I got home, fixed my hair, and changed into a pair of jeans, not bothering to change my blouse. I was just going out to dinner. I didn’t need to worry about looking that good.

My heart raced as I listened intently for the front door to open. When was Jack coming home? Did he have afternoon meetings as well? Did it matter? I was the one putting distance between us. I mean, it wasn’t like he was doing a poor job of doing the same. We were always busy. We were always doing things separately. What kind of marriage was like that?

I rubbed my temples. I could already feel a headache coming on. Amber knew what I wanted to talk to Jack about, but my mother didn’t, and I knew she would have something to say about it. But before I could truly think of every single possible thing my mother could say, I snatched my keys and my purse, darting out the door.

I arrived at the Italian restaurant in time to meet Amber and my mother at our usual booth. I hugged my mother, hugged my sister, and then stood aside for a second, trying to decide who I wanted to sit next to. Why didn’t we just get a table?

I sighed as I slid in next to my sister.

Sweetheart, you look tired, Mom commented. Are you getting enough sleep?

Plenty of sleep, I said while glancing over the menu. I knew what I wanted. I just didn’t want to look at my mother. It’s the end of the week. Summer is about to be here. I’m excited for that.

Big plans with Jack?

I swallowed hard. The waiter approached, giving me time to ignore the question as we each ordered a glass of wine, a glass of water, and then our meals. As soon as the waiter retreated, my mother stared at me. I didn’t have the menu anymore to act as a barrier. I pretended to pluck something from the soft white cloth covering the table.

Amber elbowed me lightly. I sighed as I lifted my head and offered my mother an apologetic smile. I didn’t need to apologize to her, but I felt like it was the best way to treat the situation. Well, you could say that.

Mac, Amber hissed. Just tell her.

Tell me what? Mom asked innocently. Are you pregnant?

No, Mom. I’m... I trailed off as I picked at the invisible spot on the table with the tip of my nail. I’m approaching Jack about a divorce.

She was quiet for a long time. So quiet that the waiter had time to return with our drinks: three glasses of wine and three glasses of water. I took a huge gulp of my wine as I waited for my mother to say something. She traced the lip of the glass with her finger and then sighed.

Have you tried everything?

I frowned. What do you mean?

Have you guys tried counseling?

I laughed. Jack would never go to counseling.

I just don’t think you should say you want a divorce until you’ve tried everything.

I don’t think there’s much left to try. Jack doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t share his feelings unless he’s feeling... I faded off. Well, you know. Unless he feels like basic things.

Amber cleared her throat next to me. She didn’t say anything, but I knew she wanted to. But Amber knew better than that. My sister was gifted in reading situations. She was good at saying the right thing at the right time unlike my mother and me.

I shrugged and hung my head forward. I’m just tired, Mom. We never see each other.

She surprised me by nodding. She offered me a soft smile and said, Well, you have to do what’s best for you, and I’ll love you no matter what.

I smiled weakly. Thanks, Mom.

My phone buzzed in my purse.

Do you have a tugboat in there? I heard my husband tease in my mind. It sounds like it’s approaching the lighthouse. Better turn on the light, Mac.

I sighed as I stifled a chuckle. There were moments when I thought about how Jack and I had done well in the past. When we first got together, we just fit. We seemed to know exactly what to do with everything.

But now, it felt like the smoke and mirrors had disappeared. The fresh joy of marriage had ended, and we were just gliding through life like strangers.

I paused as I unlocked my phone. Are we like strangers? God, that’s an awful thing to think.

I checked my messages. I had a text from Jack, but the time stamp was earlier in the day. It must have just sent. Sometimes, cell phones didn’t work very well inside the elementary school. A few parts of the building were made of thick brick, blocking most cell signals.

I quickly read the text and locked my phone. The waiter reappeared with our food and the smell of my dinner—traditional lasagna with broccoli—brought me to life. I smiled happily as the waiter set down our plates and asked if we needed anything else. We said we were fine and then dug into our meals.

A contented silence fell over the table. We ate like we normally would, commenting on the food every so often with Amber cracking a joke. By the time the check came, we were laughing. After leaving, I returned home to find the house empty. I sighed as I stood in the foyer and checked the time.

Well, I have time for a movie, I thought, and headed right back out the door.

3

J

ack

The meetings never end, I said with a sigh as I dropped into my desk chair. I turned the chair to the left, swiveling around restlessly as I tapped my knee. A knock echoed from the door and I sighed again, saying, Come in.

Max wandered into the room with a folder. He set it down with a grin, his reddish-brown hair a mop of curls on his head that matched the shade of freckles spattered across his nose and cheeks. He wore his usual light blue button-down shirt with khaki slacks.

Sorry, buddy, he said. "I have