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It was like being on a rollercoaster. He couldn’t stop.
His feelings were out of control, and now they might have made a fucking baby.
Then what?
Emma would leave. Go home to Chicago.
Or marry him out of obligation and probably end up fucking other guys. Happy endings were for other people, not him.
Typical romance author. Thinking this would all work out with a ring and a goddamn red rose.
Shit, he was being an asshole.
“Some women aren’t on the pill, Logan. People use condoms.” Emma shook off his hands. “God, Logan, you need to chill the fuck out.”
Was she joking right now?
“Chill out? Chillout? Do you want to bring an unwanted child into this world?” he yelled.
When she flinched, Logan froze.
Fuck.
Regret laced through him as her face crumpled.
“I’m going to bed,” Emma said, stumbling past him.
Logan didn’t follow. Instead, he stood staring out the still-open doors, listening to the sounds of the evening.
Goddamn it. What if she did fall pregnant and didn’t tell him? Then abort it? They’d never talked about these things, so he had no idea what her position on such things was.
There was no way he’d let her kill their child.
“Fuck,” he cursed, walking to pour himself a Macallan. “Fuck, fuck, fuck it!”
He threw back the dark golden liquid and then topped up again.
––––––––
LOGAN CLIMBED OUT OFthe Uber and walked into the bar.
“Why are we here?” Aidan said, sliding the whisky across the bar and climbing onto the stool.
Logan had called him after his third Macallan. He took a big swig and dropped it down on the table.
“I think Emma could be pregnant,” Logan said.
Aidan’s eyes flew open. “Is that why she’s staying with you?”
He squinted. “No. It only happened tonight.”
Aidan stared at him for a long moment, then began to laugh. “Thank God you’re not a doctor, brother.”
“Fuck off. You know what I’ve been through,” Logan said, finishing his whisky.
Aidan leaned back and lifted his own glass to his lips.
The Tiger was a moody wine bar in downtown Philly, one they had been to a few times in the past.
