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“Of course.”
“Please don’t name him Liam. I still plan to spoil him rotten, and I absolutely hate that name.”
She smiled. “I promise, Mr. McPiggerston.” She lifted a hand as if swearing on a bible. “I won’t name him Liam.”
Owen’s mouth dropped open. “McPigg . . . Where did you hear . . . Chad!”
“Don’t forget his Cheez-Its,” Lindsey said. She pushed out of the chair to check her messages, not sure if she wanted the real results. What she’d wanted was validation about her gut feeling that Owen was the father. She looked down at her stomach. “That’s the last time I trust your instincts,” she said to her clueless gut.
The Mitchells had returned to Chad’s room, and they all greeted her when she entered. Joan’s wide and welcoming smile stirred Lindsey’s already turbulent emotions. Joan would have made a perfect grandmother. So warm and so selfless. A wonderful mother and wife and friend. She hoped the woman didn’t hate her for yanking her dream of grand-motherhood away after dangling it in front of her.
“Everything okay, dear?” Joan asked. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
“Saw another one of those insurance commercials,” Lindsey said, waving a hand at the craziness of her emotional state. She’d have to tell them about the baby’s parentage eventually—or Owen would—but she just couldn’t find the strength to do it at that particular moment. “You know they get me every time. I need to make a call.”
“Hasta la vista, baby,” Chad-in-Arnold-mode said.
“I’ll be back,” she teased with another one-liner. She was getting better at the Arnold impersonating.
“Get your ass to Mars!” he returned.
Lindsey laughed, loving how normal he made her feel. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone made her feel so at ease. Even with Owen she was always worried she’d say the wrong thing or act the wrong way and lose her chance with him. Not that any of that mattered now.
She carried her phone out into the hall and listened to her voice mail. Sure enough, the clinic had called. They hadn’t mentioned the results, just instructed her to call them back at her earliest convenience. It wasn’t a call she wanted to make.
She rubbed her belly and spoke to Not-Liam in a calm voice. “No matter what they say, we’re going to be okay. I don’t want you to worry.” Almost the exact thing Owen had said to her just moments ago. She hoped her words and her voice soothed her little one more than Owen’s had soothed her. She knew Owen was just being nice—selfless—but she owed him so much already, and his continued support made that feeling all the more vivid.
“Maybe we should have never come here,” she said. Of the possible candidates remaining, she had a married bus driver, a rhythm guitarist so devastated by the loss of his fiancée that he couldn’t have sex properly unless he tied the woman in literal knots, a vocalist who notoriously screwed any woman, a recovering drug addict of a lead guitarist, and the mostly normal—sans scalp tattoos—drummer, Gabe. Both Shade and Adam had been too busy to bother with her request for the test, but she didn’t think either of them were the father anyway. Guys like that were too cool to be dads. “Maybe it’s Gabe’s,” she said, crossing her fingers. She took a deep breath and called the clinic.
After having Lindsey jump through a few hoops to verify her identity, the polite and emotionless voice on the other end of the line read the results. “Subject one, W. Charles.” AKA Tex the bus driver. “Negative.”
Oh, thank God. She did not need the added agony of potentially destroying a man’s marriage. Though he probably deserved to be dumped by his wife.
“Subject two, K. Jamison.”
Kellen. He’d probably make a good dad. He was the second most supportive of her complicated situation. Not that she’d seen him all week, but . . .
“Negative.”
She took a deep breath. Okay, that was good. It had to be Gabe, then. Gabe was a great guy. His girlfriend had a stick up her ass and wouldn’t even talk to Lindsey, but no matter. He’d do the right thing for his child.
“Subject three, G. Banner. Negative.”
Damn. But that meant . . .
“Subject four, O. Mitchell. Negative.”
Lindsey was still good at math despite having pregnant brain. “So none of them,” she said flatly. “Is there any chance that the results are wrong?”
“I’ve never had a woman need four separate men tested before . . .”
Burn. And ouch.
“. . . but the samples are run twice. Three times if there is an unexpected discrepancy—and basically, no, there isn’t any chance that the results are wrong. Is there anyone else who could be the father?”
She wished she could say no. She wished she could insist that Owen be tested again, because she so wanted him to be the father. Neither wish was her reality. “There are two more,” she admitted. Mr. Man Whore and Mr. Irresponsibility. Fuck her life. The baby kicked her at that exact moment. Probably mad that she was thinking negative thoughts about his father.
Fuck. Just fuck.
“Really?” the woman said in the snarkiest voice Lindsey had ever heard.
Lindsey was very familiar with her tone. She might as well call Lindsey a slut since she was obviously thinking it.
“If I can get samples, I’ll bring them by the clinic or have them sent in. Will you need another from me?”
“Nope. We have yours on file. You can subpoena prospective fathers. Force them to give a sample by law.”
“Hopefully that won’t be necessary, but thanks for the tip.”
“No problem. Have a nice day.” Her signoff was punctuated with the unspoken whore.
“You too,” Lindsey said, but she didn’t mean it either. She disconnected and sank into the same chair that Owen had pressed her into when he’d given her the original news. She rested her arms on her belly and buried her forehead in her hands, trying to figure out her next move.
Shade had recently decided to break up the band—the complete and utter ass—and was back with his ex-wife. He wouldn’t even answer Owen’s or any other band member’s calls. How the hell was she supposed to get a sample from him? And Adam? Adam was the reason Shade had destroyed Sole Regret. He was up in Dallas with his girlfriend, who’d broken her arm by falling off a damned horse. How did Lindsey even get in touch with him? Stalk him down at the hospital? Maybe Owen would help her. God knew he’d helped a million times already.
As if he knew she was thinking about him, Owen stopped in front of her, at least a dozen bags of Cheez-Its dangling from his fingertips.
“Chad better be happy. I had to go to three different floors to find all these. The vending machines are all sold out now.” He handed her the chocolate bar she’d meant to purchase earlier. “And for you, Miss Chocoholic.”
Oh God, he was so freaking sweet. Why couldn’t her baby’s father be him?
Lindsey tore open the wrapper and shoved a huge bite of chocolate into her mouth before she could burst into tears.
Chapter Four
Chad knew something was wrong the moment he’d seen Lindsey’s face, and Owen’s suddenly sour disposition only cemented that certainty. His parents were too focused on him to notice that something was awry between the expectant parents, but even under the influence of morphine, Chad recognized their sadness. Maybe they were just sad about him. If that was the case, they’d better get over it quick, because he wouldn’t tolerate pity from anyone, not even his sappy little brother.
“I think we should let you rest,” Mom said. “You’ll try to keep us all entertained if we stay.”
Chad didn’t tease her about wanting to get away, because if he did, he’d ne
ver get a moment’s peace.
“You all go home. I’ll be fine here by myself.”
A surge of adrenaline sent his heart racing, and he tightened his hands into fists beneath the bedsheet. Why did the thought of being alone suddenly feel so terrifying? Lindsey, sitting in a chair next to the bed, squeezed his forearm, but didn’t look at him. Just that simple touch gave him the grounding he needed to slow his breathing to normal.
“We’re not going home,” Dad said. “We have a hotel room in town. Someone will be nearby at all times. But you do need your rest.”
“Mom needs rest,” Chad said. “She looks exhausted.”
“I haven’t been able to sleep,” she said. “But now that I see you’re okay, you’re still my Chad.” She squeezed his hand and blew out a tired breath. “I suddenly feel like I’ve been run over by freight train.”
“Me and Lindsey can hang out with him,” Owen said. “You two can helicopter-parent him all day tomorrow after Mom gets some sleep.”
It took a bit of convincing, and lots of reassuring hugs and farewell kisses, but eventually Dad was able to usher Mom out of the hospital room. Once Chad was sure they were gone, he asked, “So what’s going on with you two?”
Owen and Lindsey exchanged glances. “Nothing,” Owen said before looking back at Chad.
“Nothing,” Lindsey parroted.
“I may have only one functioning eye at the moment, but I’m not blind.”
“You just worry about getting well, bro,” Owen said. “That’s your only concern.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around me, you know,” Chad said. “You are allowed to have your problems, and I still have both ears to lend.” Though one had been dangling from a narrow strip of flesh a week ago, and both still suffered from that annoying ring. “Take your pick.” He pointed to his right ear, which was beneath a huge bandage, and then his left.
Owen stared at Lindsey for a long moment, then licked his lips and asked, “Is it okay if I tell him?”
Her pretty cheeks flushed, and she dropped her chin, nodding almost imperceptivity.
“We just found out that the baby isn’t mine,” Owen said.
