On top of the fucking world. I’d just sold my first million-dollar home and gotten a killer bonus, and Sierra was ten weeks pregnant. We hadn’t told anyone yet. Just like with Ava, we planned on waiting until she was out of the first trimester. I was dying, though, keeping it from her family and mine. Keeping it from Ava. I’d already ordered a big sister T-shirt she could sport, and I couldn’t wait to put it on her and see how long it took our families to notice it. Two more weeks. They were going to be the longest two weeks ever. Turned out, two weeks didn’t matter. I was on way home from work when my phone rang. Knowing that Ava was with the Sullivans for the night, I’d begun planning out our celebration dinner, so I hurriedly answered Sierra’s call, anxious to tell her the news. “Hey, baby. Before you say a word, I’ve gotta tell you something.” “Jeremy.” Her hushed, pained whisper sent ice through my veins. Something was wrong. “Baby?” I asked. The sound of her cries shot darts straight to my heart, and I hit the gas, now anxious to get home for a different reason.
