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Everything inside me heaves. For a second I think I’m going to be sick.
“It’s okay.” I climb back into bed and gather her in my arms. She’s shaking as she leans her cheek against my chest. I wipe the tears off her face with my thumb. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I’ll take care of this too.”
“Has it ever happened to you before?”
If I’m being honest? “No. But there’s Plan B, right?”
Greer lets out a sob. “Yeah. You can get it over the counter I think. But should I still call my doctor?”
I honestly don’t know.
I hate not knowing what to do.
I also hate the idea of Greer being even more terrified. If I got her pregnant—
Then what?
I wait for dread to fill me. Fear too. Getting my best friend’s twenty-three-year-old sister pregnant is kind of a worst-case scenario for us. Never mind the part about Dad wanting to break us up and put Greer out of business.
Like Greer, I should be terrified.
Only, I’m not.
I take that back. I’m terrified of hurting Greer. Losing Porgeous. But I’m not scared of what a baby with Greer would mean.
Commitment.
A relationship.
A future together.
She’s way too young for the baby thing. Timing is terrible. I mean, it’s so outside the realm of possibility we haven’t even come close to having that conversation. But I would step up in a heartbeat if she did want to have a kid together. I could provide and protect, no problem.
The urge to protect her now grips me with a fierceness that stuns me. That, along with my roiling insides, makes me short of breath.
Dad’s threat lingers in the back of my mind. I have no doubt he’ll go through with it. He didn’t climb so high in the cutthroat world of investment banking by playing nice. But it’s becoming clearer by the minute that I’m in love with this girl. First time I’ve fallen as an adult.
First time since Lizzie passed.
Hardest I’ve fallen too.
Which means I really do need to figure out how to keep Dad from making good on his threat.
I have no fucking idea where to start. Greer wants to help, but I feel like I need to get my arms around this whole thing first.
One step at a time. It’s what I tell myself when I’m feeling overwhelmed while building financial models at work. The complexity of the spreadsheets I put together is astounding when the models themselves are viewed as a whole. But when broken down into tiny, finite steps, building those models doesn’t feel nearly as daunting.
Step one: I need to calm Greer down. Reassure her.
Step two: we have to figure out the Plan B thing. Which means we need a doctor ASAP—I remember reading somewhere that the medication is very time-sensitive. I imagine Greer’s doctor isn’t going to be available until tomorrow morning at the earliest.
Step three: Figure out how to be with Greer without my dad blowing up her career. Her life, really.
Step four: talk to my therapist about why I’m not scared shitless of knocking up Greer Fieldstone.
Taking a deep inhale, I kiss the top of her head. “Let’s get cleaned up in the shower. Then I’ll call a friend of mine from college. She’s an ER doctor, and I have a feeling she’ll know exactly what we need to do. Everything’s going to be okay, sweetheart. I swear.”
She sniffles, tilting her head so our gazes meet. Her eyes are soft. Trusting. My heart twists. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry the condom broke.” I help her out of bed, and together we head for the bathroom. “It’s hard not to freak out.”
Greer scoffs, wiping at her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “You don’t seem to be freaking out, though.”
“I know you’re scared, and I know it’s because of something I did. Which I fucking hate.” I reach inside the shower and turn on the water. It hits the tiles with a quiet slap. Steam fills the enormous glass box. I hold the door open for Greer and turn toward her to motion her inside. She’s standing at my side, arms held fast against her torso. Her hair hangs loose over her bare shoulders. Goosebumps cover her skin.
I look down. See a silvery sheen that coats the inside of her thigh.
A flare of heat ignites in my core. It’s fucked up, the fact that the caveman in me is roaring in satisfaction at seeing my cum dripping down her leg. There’s a very real possibility we’re in very big trouble.
And yet.
I reach for her and gently guide her into the shower, closing the door behind us. She stands underneath the spray, using her palms to wipe her hair out of her eyes as the water plasters it to her head. The water is scalding, just the way she likes it.
