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Camden stops walking and turns to me. “What about you and Kiera?”
“What about us?” I ask. He hasn’t said a word to me about her since he busted us kissing at the gala.
He stares at me, a pointed look that says he’s not in the mood for my bullshit, especially since I harassed him into action about Danica.
I give him a wink. “Sorry, man… I don’t kiss and tell.”
Camden rolls his eyes.
“But I will tell you that everything’s perfect between us. I’m on my way to see her right now.”
Friends with benefits. Great sex. Just as good a friendship. Nothing less and nothing more.
“I’m glad,” he says with a bright smile. A man in love who’s happy his buddy might be experiencing the same thing. I don’t disabuse him of that. What works for me and Kiera wouldn’t work for him and Danica.
We say our farewells after walking through the terminal and cut in different directions in the parking lot.
I’m in a great mood when I pull into Kiera’s driveway. We came off a successful road trip where yours truly played very well, Camden’s got his love life under control and I’m getting ready to get lost in pleasure with an amazing woman.
Twirling keys on my finger, I trot up the porch steps. Kiera opens the door before I can even push the doorbell.
“There better be a damn good reason you’re not naked already,” I say as I step over the threshold and toss my keys on a nearby table. I pull her into my arms and proceed to devour her mouth. I manage to kick the door shut and start walking us toward her bedroom, but I come to the realization that she’s not exactly kissing me back.
Her fingers are curled tight into my shirt and her hold seems almost desperate, but her mouth is a passive participant.
There’s no return passion and it’s like being doused with a bucket of ice water.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, taking her by the upper arms and holding her back from me so I can get a good look at her face. How did I not see it when she opened the door? Was I just so dazzled by her that I didn’t see the red-rimmed eyes or the dull expression? “Did someone die?”
She shakes her head as she steps back from me. My hands fall away and my stomach pitches when she says, “We need to talk.”
My first thought is she’s ending things and after I get over the initial gut punch, I shore up the resolve I know I’ll need. I’m not ready to end things. No way.
Kiera turns on me, walks into the kitchen and I follow. My heart hammers, crashing against my breastbone, and then it seems to stop when she faces me.
Her expression is so bleak I start to reach for her, but she shakes her head, holds a hand up to stave me off. She squeezes her eyes shut for just a moment and takes a deep, stuttering breath. “I’m pregnant,” she says on the exhale, eyes opening and locking onto me.
I feel like I’ve been zapped by electricity, the shock of her words jolting every fiber of my being. My world tilts, my entire body feeling so off-balance, I reach out to grab the back of a kitchen chair.
Kiera rubs at her temple, gaze dropping from mine.
“Are you sure?” I manage to croak.
“Pretty sure,” she whispers as she stares at the floor. “I’m a week late and I took a home test yesterday. It was positive.”
“Is it accurate?”
Her head snaps up and she glares at me. “Well, I don’t know, Bain. I didn’t manufacture the fucking test.”
I don’t even think to defend myself as I can tell she’s on the verge of flipping out. But before I can try to offer comfort, she holds out her hands, palms facing me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
I’m scared shitless, but I’m more worried about Kiera. I straighten my spine and take two large strides to her. I wrap my arms around her body, pulling her in for a hug. Her head turns to the side, her arms tucked into her chest as I just hold her. I want to offer all kinds of assurances, but I can’t offer a damn thing. I have no clue what to say because this never crossed my mind as a possibility.
I’m not fool enough to question her birth control pills because I know they’re not one hundred percent effective. I’ll just assume we’ve run into a bit of shitty luck.
I loosen my hold to look down at her. She tips her head back and I study those blue eyes that aren’t sparkling the way they normally do. It’s clear she’s been doing a lot of crying and I’m guessing by the way she was rubbing at her temple, she’s got a gargantuan headache.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, her eyes pleading for forgiveness. “I know this isn’t what either of us wanted.”
