Mr. Remington Got Me Pregnant novel Chapter 18

Emery’s POV

When Landon said he wanted to be near the baby, I didn’t realize he meant he wanted to take care of me too. It began quietly.

No declarations or over-the-top gestures, just small things, groceries left at my door. The first time, I assumed it was a delivery mistake. A plain brown bag with apples, oranges, cans of soup, and a bottle of prenatal vitamins.

Nothing fancy. No receipt, no brand-new packaging that screamed expensive. Just practical stuff.

Then I found the note folded between two apples. It was written on the back of a grocery list.

I didn’t know what brand. I Googled what’s best. –L

There was no full name, just a single letter. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to say it anymore. I rolled my eyes and told myself not to read into it, but I didn’t throw anything away either.

After that, the bags kept showing up. Not every day, just enough to notice. Sometimes I caught sight of him leaving.

He never came straight to the door, always turned the corner a second too late, like he hoped I wouldn’t see him. Hoodie pulled down, grocery bag swinging in one hand, walking fast like he was trying to disappear before I could speak.

One morning, I spotted him halfway across the street. “Landon,” I called.

He stopped like someone had hit pause. Slowly, he turned around. “Hey,” he said, his voice cautious. “Didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You didn’t.” We stood there in awkward silence. The wind kicked up and tugged at the sleeve of my sweater.

“Thanks,” I said, motioning slightly toward the bag at my feet.

His face relaxed just a little. “Anytime.”

He didn’t ask to come in. He didn’t push for anything else. He just nodded once and walked off. And somehow, that was what stuck with me.

The way he never lingered. The way he kept his distance while still showing up. It wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was consistent.

One afternoon, while we stood outside pretending to talk, I muttered something mostly to myself. “My kitchen faucet’s been leaking. It’s driving me insane.”

He gave a slight nod like he was filing the thought away, but he didn’t comment. I didn’t expect him to. A few hours later, there was a knock at the door.

I smiled faintly into my cup. “Didn’t think you were the fix-it type.”

He paused for a second, then met my eyes. “There’s a lot you never got to see.”

There wasn’t much to say to that, so I didn’t try. I just watched him as he tightened the final piece, wiped the faucet down, and tested the water.

“All set,” he said, standing up and putting his tools away. “Shouldn’t drip anymore.”

“Thanks,” I said, meaning it more than I thought I would.

He nodded and didn’t make a move to stay. That was the thing, he never overstayed. Never asked for anything in return.

Just kept showing up in small ways, trying to be useful without being intrusive. And I saw it. I saw the effort. I saw the care.

But the ache in my chest wasn’t something a wrench could fix. It wasn’t something a bag of groceries or a working faucet could patch up.

He was trying, I could see that now, but I didn’t know if trying would ever be enough to fix what we had broken.