My Husband Was Gone for Three Years, and Both My Mother-in-Law and I Got Pregnant Chapter 06

My Husband Was Gone for Three Years, and Both My Mother-in-Law and I Got Pregnant Chapter 06

The sudden light blinded both of us.

Margaret stormed forward and yanked the man out of my arms.

Then she froze.

“Dylan? Why is it you?”

“How could you… How could you do this to Kevin?”

She collapsed into a chair, her voice breaking.

“It’s already happened,” Dylan said, throwing caution to the wind. “The baby is your grandchild either way. Do whatever you want with that.”

“Just this once,” Margaret snapped. “If I ever catch you two again, I’ll make you regret it.

The next morning, after Dylan left for work, Margaret pointed at me and cursed.

“A woman like you would’ve been burned at the stake in the old days. Shakespeare wrote about women like you. ‘Frailty, thy name is woman.’ Shameless, that’s what you are.”

“How did my son ever fall for someone like you? Seducing Kevin’s own brother? You’ll rot in hell.”

She found reasons to curse me every day.

Sometimes, she even tried to hit me.

I couldn’t let things continue like this, so I called my father in rural Alabama.

My mother had died young, and Dad had remained single for twenty years.

He didn’t have many talents, but he possessed a silver tongue. The older women in town fell all over themselves for him, and jealous men chased him down the street year-round.

“Dad, I’m leaving her to you.”

Margaret had been widowed for more than a decade,

That couldn’t have been easy.

Woman to woman, I understood.

“What did you bring your father here for?” Margaret’s face darkened the moment she saw him at the door.

At lunch, she deliberately made only two dishes.

“Margaret, my girl is carrying my grandbaby. I came to check on her. I’ll be gone the day after

tomorrow.”

Dad looked Margaret up and down, a lazy grin spreading across his face.

“Ma’am,” he drawled.

That same night, wearing nothing but loose boxer shorts, he slipped into Margaret’s room.

“What’s that noise?”

Dylan lifted his head from my chest when a series of crashes and rattles came from the room next

door.

I ran my fingers through his hair.

“Nothing. Mom’s probably swatting mosquitoes.”

The crashing eventually stopped.

Only Margaret’s muffled whimpers remained.

Dad never left.

Dylan went to work early and returned late, assuming my father slept in the guest room.

Dad spent every night in Margaret’s room, assuming Dylan slept in the guest room.

Life remained peaceful.

Everyone was happy.

Six weeks later, I walked into the kitchen to find Margaret staring at a pregnancy test.

Her hands were shaking.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

I almost dropped the plate I was holding.