His face drains of all color. His mouth is hanging open, and I can see his chest start to rise and fall as if he’s just run a marathon. I know exactly how you feel, buddy.
“Yeah, so.” I put my own hand to my chest as my heartbeat starts to match his. “I would have told you when I found out, but I didn’t know who you were.”
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, as if wishing the words away. “What did you say?”
I look around one more time, then back to him. “I’m pregnant.” I say it so low it’s a touch higher than a whisper. “I know this is a shock to you. It took me a full two weeks to wrap my head around it.” I can’t look into his eyes, so instead I focus on my fingers on the table. “With that being said, I want you to know I won’t tell anyone that you’re the father.” I close my eyes when the stinging hits them. “No one is going to know.” My eyes rise up to his reluctantly. “After I saw you yesterday, I figured the least I could do was tell you.” I push away from the table now. “I have to go.” I grab my bag. “Bye, Theo.”
I rush out of the bakery, but even when I’m safe in my car, it still feels like all eyes are on me. As if someone heard, and they are already starting the town phone chain, talking about Collins and her scam to trap a man with a child. The first tear escapes the corner of my eye as I put my hand on my stomach. “It’s just you and me, kiddo.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
THEO
I watch her walk out of the bakery. Scratch that, I watch her bolt out of the bakery like a bat out of hell. She rushes away with her head down, and I’m about to follow her, but my whole body feels like a lead weight.
I’m pregnant. The words she whispered play over and over in my head. I blink. That is the only thing I think I can do right at this moment. The blood rushes to my head. My chest feels like it’s about to crack itself open. My ears are ringing. Then I can hear myself starting to pant. The back of my neck tingles, and I wonder if I’m going to faint. I put my hand on the table to hold myself up, trying to get my whole body back under control. It feels like I’m in a dream. I close my eyes and force them open again, expecting to be in my bed. But the rude reality is that this isn’t a fucking dream.
“Where did Collins go?” Everleigh stops beside me with a white box in her hand.
“She—” I put my hand on my leg, and wonder if she can see how fucking freaked out I am. “She?—”
“Oh, good god, Theo, did you insult her?”
“What?” I move back as if she hit me. “Why would I ever insult anyone?”
“You insult me all the time,” Brock jokes, claiming the chair Collins just sat in. He picks up another lemon square and pops it in his mouth as if my life didn’t just fall off its axis. “I’m surprised, though. I didn’t think Collins was your type.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, insulted.
“It means she’s not the normal girl you go for.” He picks up a donut, acting like he didn’t insult me indirectly.
“Would you stop eating everything?” Everleigh hisses at him.
“Baby, I’m starving.” He doesn’t even pay attention to the way she’s glaring at him. It just falls off him.
“I’m going to go and pack a box. You can take it to the station and drop it off for Collins.” She walks away from us, and I turn back to Brock, who is taking his second bite of the donut like he hasn’t had anything to eat in a year.
“What did you mean by that?”
“I mean, she’s not the normal type you go for.” He swallows. “It’s pretty self-explanatory.”
“Who do I normally go for?”
“Yeah, you like to surf the coast but not get too close to the shore.” He takes another bite and then chews twice before he continues. “Trust me, I know what that’s like.”
“I don’t even know what the fuck that means.” I sit back in the chair.
“It means you aren’t looking for anything serious, so you go home with these random women from out of town so you won’t have to look over your shoulder when you go out,” he explains. “Everyone knows?—”
“People talk about this?”
“Dude.” He chuckles. “Where the fuck do you think you live? People talk about nothing and everything.” He finishes the donut and looks over at the piece of pie, contemplating whether he’s going to have room to eat it or not. “With that said, I think you should stay away from Collins.” He leans forward, and his tone is tight and almost dangerous. “Actually, scratch that, stay the fuck away from Collins.”
The hair on the back of my neck tingles. “Yeah?” I snarl. “And why the fuck is that?”
“Because she’s not your type.” He holds up a finger.
“She’s 1,000 percent my type,” I defend myself, because she is. From her eyes to her amazing mouth to the way she smiles, which she doesn’t do enough if you ask me. It almost makes me want to go out of my way to do something to make her smile. Something she hasn’t done with me the last two times I’ve seen her.
