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She glances around the parking lot.
“I’m pretty sure everyone still sitting in their car watching us right now already knows that little bundle of joy in your stomach is mine, so I wouldn’t worry what they’ll think if you get in my car.”
“They don’t.” She shakes her head, but it’s clear she’s annoyed that I can read her thoughts.
“Who do they think is the father?” My jaw clenches, though I’m not sure why.
She grabs her keys from her purse, then her car beeps, indicating it’s locked. “Let’s go.”
“Perfect.” I round the back of my car to the passenger side and open the door for her.
She slides in without a look my way but mumbles, “Thanks.”
I scour the mostly empty parking lot to see a few cars with drivers watching us, one being the guy who looks as if he wants to rip off my head. It occurs to me then that she might not be single. I came here assuming she was, but I can’t imagine a woman as beautiful as she is being single for long, even if she’s pregnant. I don’t think most men would be cool being with a woman who’s pregnant with another man’s baby, but maybe she found out late that she’s pregnant, and that’s why I’m just finding out. Shit, what if they’re trying to hustle me for money? Damn, my dad is gonna murder me when he finds out I’m in this position.
I drive us to Ira’s Deli, and the only conversation is her instructing me where to go. Ira’s is small, but I can never be too safe. Being seen at the school was already enough of a risk. If someone sees me walking into the deli with a pregnant woman I can’t explain, things could escalate.
“What do you want? I’ll go buy the sandwiches, and we can go back to your place to eat.”
“Um…” She worries her bottom lip.
“If not your place, a park, somewhere I have less of a chance of being recognized.”
I see hurt in her eyes, but she masks it quickly, her hand going to the door handle. “I’ll get the sandwiches. What do you like?”
I fish a fifty from my wallet and hand it to her. “Just get me a roast beef with mayo, please.”
She stares at the fifty and huffs, taking it from my hand. “Sure.”
After exiting the SUV, she walks inside. I watch her order, pay, and wait alongside the counter, pulling out her cell phone. My phone rings over Bluetooth, and I groan, seeing my teammate Miles’s name on my screen. I probably shouldn’t answer right now, but I’m already full of anxiety and could use a friendly voice.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Did you find her?” his girlfriend, Bryce, asks, and I roll my eyes.
“Where’s Cavanaugh?” I squeeze the steering wheel.
“Here. So are Coop and Elle. You’re on speakerphone.”
“Is this an intervention or something?” I lean back in my seat. They’re the only four people who know about this situation—mostly because when that text came through on one of the best nights of my life, I had to tell someone.
“Of course not,” Miles says. “We’re your friends and are going to see you through this.”
“One of you is a reporter,” I mention, and I hear Bryce scoff.
“I told you I won’t report about this, but if you do decide to talk about it with the press, I better get an exclusive.”
“Yeah, you’ll get the whole spread. Bachelor of the Year knocked up his one-night stand and ruined his life.”
“Your life isn’t ruined because of a baby,” Ellery says. “You have more than enough money to support him or her. Hell, you can give them a nanny twenty-four, seven. Do you know how many babies I see born into families who love them so much but don’t have the financial means to take care of them? If you put the time and effort into fatherhood, this could end up being the best part of your life.”
I roll my eyes, though she has a point. Ellery’s a doctor at an inner-city hospital, but I don’t want to be lectured while I’m trying to figure out if the baby is mine. I definitely slept with Adeline, and although she didn’t seem like the type to sleep around, she could’ve fooled me.
She and Bryce begin talking to each other when I don’t respond, complaining about me.
“I would have come with you,” Miles says.
What can I say? I have great friends. Miles, who I’ve known since college, would lie down in front of a truck for me, but this isn’t their problem. It’s mine.
