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The headache thrums louder as the realization slowly comes together in my mind.
But… no.
It’s not possible. Nick and I only just slept together a few days ago. For me to be pregnant, I’d have to be…
I do the math. About a month and a half along.
So, there’s no way.
Taking a sip of my tea, I watch as Harriet smiles disbelievingly and turns back to her own bagged lunch. She unpacks a sliced apple and pops the top off of a Caesar salad.
Immediately, my stomach churns and I gag.
A month and a half.
A month and a half ago, I was at the company dinner. A month and a half ago I met Nick Weaver at The Grove’s bar…
My stomach lurches again, this time from the shock. Itispossible. Did I completely miss my period last month and not even realize it?
The headaches, the nausea, the way my boobs ache. All signs of pregnancy.
Putting the mug of tea down a little too loudly, I turn and rush from the room, down the hall toward Ben’s office.Please be there, please be there.
I’m lightheaded when I reach it. Luckily, Ben is sitting at his desk. He looks up in surprise, then glances out to see if his assistant is there. But she’s at lunch, too.
“Ben, I—I’m sorry,” I stutter out, vision blurring temporarily as the pounding in my head gets longer. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to need to take the rest of the day off.”
Ben gives me a once-over and looks concerned.
“Of course, Blair. Let Meg in HR know and send Claudia an email when you expect to be back.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak with the nausea rising in my throat, grab my things from my office and practically run from the building.
Two hours later I’m sitting on the toilet in my apartment, staring miserably down at the pregnancy test in my hand. Why do they make them pink? Somehow, it makes this whole situation more offensive. More stressful.
The bathroom rug is littered with five more of these tests. They all show the little plus sign indicating I’m pregnant. Pregnant! Holy shit…
And it can only be one person.
Nick Weaver is the only man I’ve looked at twice in at least a year.
“What the hell am I going to do?” I whisper, dropping my head back against the wall.
Chapter 9
Nick
Vanessawatchesmepaceback and forth through the living room. Scarlett and Aimee are playing tag somewhere behind me, pounding up the staircase and running around upstairs.
“If you’re not careful, you’ll trip,” my sister warns me dryly. I attempt a glare, but almostdotrip on a discarded toy of Aimee’s.
Speak of the devil. My youngest niece bolts into the room squealing and wraps herself around my legs, peering toward the stairs. “Uncle Nick! Save me!”
The desperation in her squeaky words almost makes me smile, but there’s a storm cloud hanging over me. One that’s been trailing directly overhead ever since Blair Morrison came to my home two weeks ago.
Ever since you fucked her senseless on your desk.
I ignore that thought and heft Aimee up, holding her out of Scarlett’s reach.
