Page 82 of One Reckless Night

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AMELIA

Isat on my bed, staring down at the ultrasound pictures in my hands. The tiny, grainy image of the baby—my baby—was still surreal. Three months along. How had three months already passed? It felt like just yesterday I first saw Jared at that awards dinner.

I thought back to the day I got the notification that I got the job. I had been ecstatic. I just knew it was going to be life changing. Working at Welch Labs was a big deal. I knew I was good, but I honestly never thought of myself as good enough to work here.

And then I got hired and I met my hero. My initial impression of him had certainly been a mixed bag. He wasn’t what I expected. Or maybe he was exactly as I expected. I just never imagined it would be me he hit on. Me he was attracted to.

And now I was having his baby.

The reality of it hadn’t fully settled in yet. I wasn’t showing, not really, and aside from the nausea and exhaustion, it was easy to forget I was building a little life inside me. But the ultrasound made it real. For the first time in weeks, I let myself feel a flicker of excitement. I wasn’t alone anymore. I had this baby.

It wasn’t exactly the way I expected my life to go. But life never went the way it was supposed to. Make a plan and God laughs. I was just going to keep pushing through. I would have to figure out what to do when I did start to show. Thankfully, we were going into winter, and even though southern Florida didn’t really do winter, I could get away with bulky jumpers—sweaters on this side of the Atlantic. When it got to the point of me looking like a beached whale, I would have to admit I was pregnant.

I could only imagine the questions. And rumors.

But that was the problem for then. I didn’t need to borrow anything to worry about today. I had plenty of stuff to stress about. I got out of bed and hopped in the shower. The morning sickness was letting up, but I found it worked best if I kept to a routine. I showered, drank my ginger tea, and ate toast. Typically, I would go to the lab but not today. Today, I was going to binge the last season of Bridgerton.

I turned on the TV and set about making my ginger tea. I was halfway through my first cup when the news anchor’s voice cut through the cozy silence of my condo. I glanced up from the TV remote, my attention snagged by the urgency in her tone.

“Residents of the Florida Keys, we urge you to prepare immediately. Hurricane Ophelia has strengthened to a Category Three storm and is projected to make landfall in the Keys within the next seventy-two hours. This is not a drill. Mandatory evacuations are being issued for all low-lying areas, and residents are advised to secure their homes and gather necessary supplies.”

My stomach dropped, and I set my tea down on the coffee table, the porcelain clinking against the wood. A hurricane? This sounded bad.

My mind immediately raced to the lab—what about our research? The equipment? And then, almost instinctively, I thought of Jared. He’d be safe in his mansion, right? It was built to withstand storms like this. But still, I couldn’t shake the worry.

I grabbed my phone and quickly pulled up the weather app, scanning the updates. The projected path showed the storm hitting Key West head-on.

I got up to get my toast and opened the blinds. “Yuck,” I muttered.

There were dark clouds gathering on the horizon. I had never been in a hurricane before. Was it crazy I was kind of excited?

Probably.

I took my toast and tea back to the sofa. I shut off the news and pulled up Netflix. Doom and gloom could wait for another day.

I was halfway through the second episode when there was a knock at the door. I scowled, not happy to have my marathon interrupted.

I opened it to find Clair.

“Hi.” She grinned.

“Hello.”

She barged into my condo like she owned the place. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Watching TV with a cozy blanket,” I replied.

“You can’t spend the whole day in bed,” she said.

“I’m not in bed. I’m on the couch.”

“It’s warm out, and there’s going to be a beautiful sunset on the beach tonight. We should go. We’ll take a picnic. It’s always nice to enjoy the weather before it gets stormy.”

“I’m not sure I’m good for a picnic,” I said. “Things are still a little risky.”

“Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand. “You need to get out of this condo. Fresh air will do you good.”