When I fail to reply to Jenni’s declaration, a harsh exhalation of air sounds down the line. “I have to go.”
“Wait—”
My demand comes too late; she’s already disconnected the call. I redial her number. Our conversation just started, so it can’t be over already.
My fists clench when my call gets sent to voicemail. “Fuck!” I curse into the warm night air.
I type a text message into my phone, my fingers shaking with every syllable I stroke.
Me:I miss you too.
Admitting I miss her isn’t telling her I love her. This doesn’t break any rules. It just shows her I like her—right?
My pulse thrums in my neck as my index finger hovers over the send button. I’m torn on whether I should hit send or delete. I don’t like that she’s angry at me, but I don’t want her getting the wrong idea.
Fuck—why is this so complicated?
Certain I’m seconds away from shattering my phone from how hard I’m gripping it, I shove it into my pocket, not hitting either of the buttons I was debating.
My hand is only halfway out of my pocket when a female voice scares the living daylights out of me. “Hi, Nick.”
I clutch my chest to ensure my heart remains in place before spinning to face the person who snuck up on me unaware. My stomach creeps up my esophagus when she moves far enough out of the shadows I can see who she is. She’s the girl from a few months ago. The young brunette with hazel eyes. I still can’t recall her name. I think it starts with an M, but don’t quote me.
Grinning a full-toothed smile, she throws herself into my arms. The chances of me vomiting double when the smell of bleach engulfs my nostrils. She either dipped herself in the chemicals, or she works with them daily.
After prying her hands off my neck, I pull her far enough away from me to see her face. Her wild eyes dart between mine as she bounces on her heels. She looks like she just won the jackpot. Although she seems harmless, I race for the front doors of Mavericks, more than eager to get far away from her and her skitzo eyes.
“It was nice seeing you again.” The band has a couple of groupies who get a little handsy, but the craziness in this lady’s eyes freaks me the fuck out.
I freeze with my hand wrapped around the door handle of Mavericks when she asks, “Do you want a boy or a girl?”
My heart plummets into my stomach as my wide eyes turn back to her. Smiling, she bridges the gap between us. “I think we will have a girl.”
The way she says “we” makes me cringe.
I swallow down the bile in the back of my throat before replying, “I’m not planning on having kids formanyyears to come.”
“Oh, yes you are,” she says, nodding. “In around seven months.”
What the fuck?
My stomach swirls as regret plagues my usually carefree attitude. Certain I’m being pranked, I scan the parking lot, seeking Slater or Jacob. They have to be here, because there’s no way what she’s saying is true. I always use protection. If I don’t have it, I don’t have sex. It’s that simple.
Failing to find anyone in the vicinity, I return my eyes to little Ms. Skitzo. “You’re joking, right?” I should be ashamed of my trembling words, but I’m not. I’m scared as fuck right now.
Narrowing her eyes, she folds her arms in front of her chest.
When two drunk women exit the door we’re standing next to, I wrap my hand around the unknown lady’s arm and drag her into the darkness of the parking lot. I don’t want anyone overhearing our conversation. “This isn’t possible; I never have sex without protection.” My tone is sterner since my anger is being unleashed.
This can’t be happening. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened the past few months.
She bats her eyelashes as if I’d break the rules just for her.Un-fucking-likely. “You did that night; you said you wanted to have a baby with me.”
“That's not possible!” I snap, my voice roaring. I was smashed on the night in question, but there’s no way those words would haveeverleft my lips.
When she takes a step closer to me, I take one back. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever slept with, so you’re the father.”
I scrub my hand down my face as my brain scrambles to think of a way I can get out of this fucked-up situation. Two seconds later, a light bulb switches on. “I can give you money to take care of it.”
