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“There’s something else,” I mumbled, figuring I may as well lay it all on the line. “I’m gonna be a father.”
“You owe me fifty bucks.” Rico smiled, pointing to Luc.
Fuckers.
Quinlan
ALEC:WE NEEDto talk
It was the third text message I’d ignored in as many days. Every morning, I awoke to a different version of the same, and every night I received yet another one telling me to sleep well. How the hell he’d gotten my cell number was anyone’s guess, but considering he was one-fourth owner of Quattro Security, I’m certain I didn’t have to search very far to find my answer.
Who the hell was this guy and what happened to the broody asshole who plucked my last nerve? While I found the attention a bit endearing, it also weirded me the hell out. Alec wasn’t the soft and cuddly type of guy. He was gruff, in-your-face, with an attitude to match. While I loved the movie, the wholeDr. Jekyll and Mr. Hydething he had going on made my head spin.
Something had snapped in him the day Emory, River, and I had been attacked. The day I’d been forced to protect us with a baseball bat. Yes, he’d hurt me tremendously with his words, but I couldn’t forget the feral look I’d seen in his eyes. He’d been scared…for me, and that was before I told him about the baby. Was it possible the great Allesandro del Toro had feelings for me?
Ugh.
Speaking of babies. I threw the covers off and made a mad dash to my attached bathroom, reaching the toilet in time to empty the contents of my stomach, which at seven thirty in the morning, only consisted of the small amount of water I’d consumed during the night. Once the intense nausea subsided, I pulled myself off the floor, brushed my teeth, then stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked like shit. The color of my skin had changed from its usual healthy alabaster glow to what I’d describe as death-warmed-over. There were puffy, dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep and my hair had lost its luster. Although the last could be explained by my absence at any beauty parlor for the last six months. The rest I was blaming on life in general because I couldn’t even say it all began with the pregnancy. It hadn’t. This unexpected turn of events was merely another wrench thrown into my already overly complicated existence.
After getting dressed for my shift at To A Tea, I strolled downstairs, hoping to sneak out of the house before my parents woke up, but the smell of bacon cooking doused those thoughts and almost had me sprinting for the nearest bathroom again.
“Morning, Mom.”
“Good morning, sweetheart. I’ll have breakfast ready in a few minutes,” she called over her shoulder as she flipped a few strips of pork deliciousness.
“I’m good,” I lied, my stomach growling loudly in protest.Maybe I’d try something light.
Walking to the fridge, I opened the door and peeked inside at the meager contents, adding grocery shopping to my mental to-do list.
“How about some dry toast and ginger tea? I heard that’s good for morning sickness.”
I stood abruptly, stumbling to the side until my ass hit the counter as I tried to process her words.She knew. Oh God, she knew.My mouth opened, but only a whimper came out. Abandoning her post at the stove, she flew across the space between us and took me in her arms.
“How?” I croaked.
“I’m your mother. We know things.” She rubbed her hands up and down my back. “The fact I saw three pregnancy tests in your trash can may have helped a little too.”
Those damn tests were the bane of my existence. I’d stared at the freaking package for over an hour, like it was a snake coiled to strike. Finally, I mustered up enough courage to pee on one of the sticks and—for good measure—peed on the other two as well. Color me shocked when instead of the threeto fiveminutes the instructions said it would take for the results, the little plus sign appeared on all of them in under two.Damn Alec and his potent swimmers.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
She leaned back from our embrace and pulled me to the table where we both took a seat.
“Well, first things first. Are you happy?”
“I’m scared.”
“Understandably so, but you didn’t answer my question, Quinny.”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“What about the father? Have you told him?”
“Sort of?”
“Quinlan Marie James,” she scolded. “What the hell does that mean? Either you did or you didn’t.”
