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“I can explain.”
An indignant guffaw burst out of me. “Yeah?”
“It’s not what you think, joey.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snapped, hating the cute nickname I ordinarily loved. He couldn’t be cute. Not now.
“I’m sorry,” he said like he was calming a wild animal. I felt wild. Maybe even a little rabid. “Please, love, let’s talk about—”
“Laney,” Gem said, interrupting us, one hand on her stomach, the other holding out the test.
The answer was right there. In clear blue letters. Pregnant.
And then Gem vomited at Bobby’s feet.
I sighed. “Happy twenty-eighth birthday to me.”
