Mom gave me that stare, the one that said she knew I was lying but wasn’t gonna call me on it, and stood. “I’ll make you some soup. Vegetable rice or mushroom and potato?”
“Whatever is easiest, Mom. I’m not feeling all that picky right about now.” In fact, the more I talked, the more exhausted I felt until eventually my eyes slid shut and stayed that way. I had a vague memory of Mom putting soup on the nightstand and kissing me before leaving, but that was about it until I woke up hours later.
The sun was shining, which meant it could be morning or afternoon of day number three. It also meant there was plenty of soup downstairs. If I could somehow get the bed to eject me, then I would have no choice but to get up. And go to the bathroom. To pee or puke. Or whatever.
Somehow, I managed about an hour’s reprieve from the gross feeling roiling through my body. It was just long enough to get in a nice hot shower, check a few emails, and even return a few, before fatigue took over once more. I made it to the sofa with a jug of water, a blanket, and a pillow before another nap took hold of me. I didn’t know how long I slept but when I woke up again, the sun was already starting to set. Worry officially set in.
A key slid into the front door and opened, and I was relieved Mom had come back because I needed more food.
“Hey, I heard you were sick and I brought provisions.”
Not Mom. Walker.
“I’m fine, Walker. Thanks for stopping by but you really don’t want what I have so, you know, go.”
He stared at me with a little smirk on his handsome face and I turned back to the paused television. “You’re welcome, Audrey.”
“Just leave everything on the counter and I’ll get to it later.” Of course I didn’t think this would work because Walker was stubborn. The fact that I walked out on him probably made him feel like he had something to prove.
“I made you soup. How are you feeling?”
His question bounced off my shoulders because his thick blond hair and deep brown eyes made me think about my period. My late period. By my illness-induced calculations, I was at least one month late. Maybe two. On the one hand, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, but on the other, thinking about it was making me crazy. That was the only explanation for why I let Walker bring me soup with crusty bread, water, and tea. “Eat up, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? We didn’t do pet names, at least not outside the throes of passion. Did people have throes of passion anymore? Either way, it was weird and I was pretty sure I didn’t like it. “What is it?”
“Ginger carrot and sweet potato soup. It’ll make you feel better. Trust me.”
Yeah right. “Thanks,” I grunted and dug in, eating a few careful spoonfuls until my stomach began to protest. “You don’t have to stay.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”
“Why?” None of this made any sense. Walker couldn’t get away from me fast enough last time and now he wouldn’t go away no matter how much I encouraged it.
“Do I need a reason?”
“Yeah, actually, you do.” I knew I was being a bitch, but Walker had earned it and I couldn’t let myself forget that. No matter how much I wanted to.
“Fine. I like being around you, Audrey. You give me shit, make me think, make me laugh. I like you.” His smile was so genuine, so open and unguarded, that I wanted to believe him.
I wanted to, but I didn’t. “Fine, don’t tell me. Who told you I was sick?”
“Your mother.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you stopped by.” She would be happy to hear that he was still the “nice boy” she thought he was and he could keep up the façade.
“I think something is brewing between Hope and Will.” It took me a few seconds to respond, not because the news shocked me but because I was trying to decide if I wanted to let him change the subject. Maybe it was the soup or maybe it was just the man, but I decided to stop fighting.
For now. “I don’t see it,” I lied. They’d been circling each other for months, both of them oblivious to it. Because they were smart. Unlike me. “Hope is too nice and Will hates nice. Loathes it more than a woman who doesn’t put out.” Despite that, there was still a pull between them that I hoped they remained too dense to explore.
“We’ll see, I guess.”
There were many things we would see in the future. For example, I planned to get up tomorrow to solve the question of just how stupid I was when it came to Walker Reid. “I hope you’re wrong. I like Hope and I don’t want her holding it against me when he breaks her heart.”
“You’re so sure he will?”
“I know my brother and you do too.” He wasn’t the settling-down type. He was too cynical and too handsome to have to settle for less than he wanted.
“Yeah, I suppose I do.” He turned his gaze to me. “Have you been to the doctor yet?”
“Nope. Soon.”
“If you need a ride, you know where to find me.” Yeah, I knew exactly where to find him. But I wouldn’t.
“Thanks, Walker, but I’m good.” Trapped in a car with him while I was sick and vulnerable was not my idea of a good time, especially considering what I might learn at the doctor.
Eventually.
* * *
I woke up the next day feeling like crap but like a lot less crap than I had the past few days. I drank some fizzy water before I got up, showered, and dressed in jeans and a plain black T-shirt. My hair was pulled into two long braids with a baseball cap pushed down low to cover my face because the trip I had to make today required anonymity. A disguise would stick out like a sore thumb in these small towns but being hard to identify was enough for this particular journey.
The drive to Burlington took about twenty-five minutes from the Tulip border and I spent the whole journey singing along to some new-ish country songs that I didn’t really know. In that moment, though, I felt the lyrics down to my soul. Nothing made a woman more spiritual than an incognito trip to buy a pregnancy test.
I grabbed a big shopping cart because there was no way in hell I’d risk running into any of the Tulip busybodies—or anyone who might know them—with nothing but a pregnancy test in my hand. Hell no. Absolutely not. Word would get back to Walker before I made it back to the town limits and I hadn’t even decided how I felt about this theoretical pregnancy.
By the time I made it to the checkout lane, my cart practically overflowed with cleaning supplies, chocolate, a few discount romance novels, nail polish, four pregnancy test boxes, a new duster, and a pair of St. Patrick’s Day boxers for a dollar. At this point, I almost felt like the pregnancy tests were obviously the purpose of my trip, but thankfully the teenage cashier wasn’t interested in my purchases.
I made it out of the store without being discovered. Because I was operating on a higher plane of paranoia, I stopped by the Buffet House for a solo brunch, forcing myself to graze on two different plates before I got in my car and drove home. Where the future awaited me. Dammit.
Locking the front door behind me, I kicked off my black Chuck Taylor’s and dropped my wallet on the little table in the front hall before heading upstairs to the master bathroom where I also locked the door behind me. For some totally odd reason.
I ripped open the first box and read the instructions before taking the test and setting the timer.
Pregnant.
I repeated the same steps with the second test, reading the instructions twice because the results were counterintuitive. I set the timer and waited. Again.
Pregnant. Still.
The third box produced the same results and I knew I wasn’t strong enough to do this alone. It was time to see just how well I was doing in the relying-on-people department. “Hope? Can you come over and not ask any questions until you get here?”
There was a short pause and then, “I’ll be right there.”
Fifteen minutes later, I opened the door and yanked her inside, relief coursing through my veins. “Did you take the scenic route to get here?”
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“I didn’t know what you needed so I stopped and got Jack and ice cream. Which do we need?”
I smiled at the kind of friend she had turned out to be. The kind who came at a moment’s notice, ready to celebrate or commiserate. That smile faded and tears replaced it. “I’m sorry ... I can’t believe—”
What in the hell was happening to me? I didn’t even think I possessed these types of emotions.
Another black mark against pregnancy.
Hope wrapped me in her arms and pulled me close. “Cry as much as you want. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.”
She was true to her word, holding me until my cries turned to sobs and then plying me with ice cream and tissues to wipe my eyes. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“All right. Talk.”
My mouth opened but no words, hell, no sounds came out and I stood, grabbing Hope’s hand to tug her up the stairs and into my master bathroom. “Three positive tests. Five more to go.”
Her eyes widened comically and put her hands to my shoulders. “Are you okay, Audrey? Is this a good thing or do we need to call the cops? What happened?”
My head spun with all her questions and I put my hands up to cover my eyes. My ears. My shame. “Results first. Talk later. I promise.”
Like a good friend, Hope took on the job of reading the instructions and leaving me with the job of supplying the test materials and nothing else. I took stick after stick until I was mildly dehydrated, my thigh muscles ached, and my stomach was knotted with tension. “Okay. Now we wait.”
As scared as I was for the first three tests, the feeling in my gut felt a lot more like resignation. I had accepted that it was very likely that I was pregnant. By Walker. Now I had confirmation. “Positive. Every last fucking one of them.”
“You look like you could use some more ice cream. And chocolate syrup. Always makes talking easier,” she said and guided me back to the kitchen. “It’s a good thing I brought provisions. It looks like yoga-loving hippies live here. You don’t have even chocolate syrup!”
“It’s not a sin, Hope. Besides, I do have chocolate bars. Fifty and seventy-five percent cacao.”
“Blah, blah, blah. Microwave bowl, please?” I pointed her to the right cupboard and while Hope’s back was turned, I talked.
And talked.
“Oh. My. God. How could I have let this happen?”
“Gonna have to be more specific than that,” she said without looking back and I appreciated the space. I bit my bottom lip and forged ahead.
“We slept together once, more than a year ago, when we ran into each other in New York. We had a few drinks and one thing led to another. It was great and then he ghosted me.”
“Walker?” Hope had stopped with one hand on the microwave handle and the other holding the bowl of chocolate as her head swiveled to see my nod. “Holy shit. Continue.”
“I couldn’t stay while he was so eager to get away from me so I took that contract job and we didn’t talk at all. Until recently.” I told her about the other times too. About every mistake I made with him. “And there you have it. The chronicles of a pathetic girl still nursing a childhood crush and paying for it dearly.”
“Does that mean you’re not keeping it?”
Shit. It was a good question. One I hadn’t even thought about because I just assumed I would. But a quick conscious check and I knew I couldn’t do it, couldn’t leave a child with the millions of questions they would inevitably have. Am I good enough? Why did they leave me? Why didn’t they want me? I didn’t want to give those issues to anyone if I could help it. “I don’t think I can do anything but raise it and love it, if those tests are even accurate.”
Did people really rely on drug store pee sticks to determine their future?
Hope sighed and pushed the ice cream my way. “So you and Walker, huh?”
I shook my head before my heart could even nibble on that comment. “Nope. It was just sex. There is no me and Walker.”
“Yeah but I mean, the kid is his.”
“And no one but you will know that,” I told her, my warning clear.
“He’ll know, Audrey. Whether you want to or not, you’ll have to talk to him about this. He deserves to know.”
She was right but I wasn’t ready to talk to anyone, really, but least of all Walker. I’d make a doctor’s appointment to confirm and then figure out what the hell I was gonna do with my life.
“At least tell me my lingerie had something to do with it.”
My burning cheeks should have been answer enough. “I won’t know until I find out how just how knocked up I am. But if it is, I’ll be sure to blame you appropriately.”
She laughed and pulled the ice cream from my grip. “Best advertisement for my business ever. A before and after photo of you in the lingerie. With and without the baby bump.”
“Okay, settle down, Hope.”
She laughed and kept going, creating an entire line of lingerie for the sole purpose of making babies. I let her talk because I needed something else, anything else, to focus on other than the unexpected path my life had just taken.
Walker
“Walker, what are you doing here?”
I laughed at her same old greeting, still amused when I should be used to it by now. “Audrey, you sure know how to make a guy feel welcome.”
Arms crossed, she stared up at me like I’d interrupted tea with the Queen. Dressed in pajamas with video game characters from the eighties, she looked even younger than her twenty-five years. “I’m not trying to make you feel welcome.”
I laughed again and stepped inside, knowing if she really wanted me gone, she’d press the issue. “You’re a regular riot. How are you feeling?”
“Like death warmed over, except, you know, busier on account of the fact that everyone keeps stopping by. I’m amazed at just how many doctors we have in this small town.” An annoyed Audrey was damned adorable but I appreciated living far too much to say so.
“You look better than the last time I saw you.”
She snort-laughed over her shoulder. “Is that the kind of smooth talk that gets the panties dropping like flies?”
I dropped my head back and laughed. “Please don’t ever refer to panties like flies. It’s just not right. And trust me, I can be smooth.”
She arched a brow at me as she reclaimed her spot on the sofa and burrowed under the blankets once again, but this time the laptop was at her feet. “That has yet to be proven. What’s up, Walker?”
“Can’t a friend just stop by to say hey?”
She nodded. “He can, but he never has before. Why now?”
I shrugged. “I missed you.”
Her smile was wistful. “Yeah, right. If you’re staying, have a seat so I don’t have to keep looking up at you.”
It wasn’t a warm invite to stay but it was Audrey’s way and I sat at the other end of the sofa, waiting for her to say something, anything, that would let me know if she wanted me here. But Audrey’s focus was solely on the screen of her laptop, not on me, so I pulled out case notes and read.
“Whatcha reading?”
“A manslaughter case. Bar fight ended with someone in the morgue. It’s nothing like the domestic violence cases I usually try.”
Violet eyes were laser-focused on me, eyes bright and intelligent. “Better or worse? Obviously, they both suck,” she added unnecessarily.
“Better, I guess. There’s some nuance here and not all cases are equal under the law, but this guy just became a professional cage fighter the day of the incident.”
“Ooh and the plot thickens!” It was one of the few smiles of Audrey’s I actually earned and it felt damn good. “Is the guy going to prison?”
“He turned down my offer so it’ll be up to the jury when the time comes. I’m hungry.” I wasn’t eager for the conversation to end and Audrey seemed genuinely interested so I stalled, picking up my phone. “Pizza? On me?”
She nodded with a wide smile. “Extra cheese and
hot peppers on my side.”
I placed the order, watching as she easily slipped back into work mode, taking deep breaths as her fingers flew over the keyboard. So many deep breaths, I began to worry. “How are you feeling, Audrey?”
She blinked and looked up at me like we weren’t speaking the same language. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You’re breathing weird. Very long, deep breaths. Are you still feeling sick?” She should be better by now. “Have you seen a doctor?”
“Yes, Mom, I have. I’m fine,” she insisted, though I still didn’t believe her. I let it go. “How’s Lissa?”
I was surprised she’d asked since she’d left so quickly that day. “She’s good. She and her husband just found out they’re pregnant. That’s why she called, to share the good news.” I was happy for Lissa in as much as I gave a damn, which wasn’t that much. But her happiness had made me think of my own sad pathetic excuse for a love life.
“How do you feel about that?”
I frowned. “How should I feel? I’m fine with it. Happy Lissa finally has what she wants. I hope she does, anyway.” She was so damn fickle, I wondered if she even knew. “We were never right for each other and if I’d been thinking clearly, I never would have married her.”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, as they say.” Her words were eerily bland and lacking emotion.
“In our case, it would have been obvious if we’d spent more time together or if I’d known what our differences meant. At the time, I thought we would balance each other out. But as time went on, we both started to resent things we’d cherished early on.”
Her eyes were full of questions I wished she would ask, but she asked none of the ones that mattered. “You don’t mind that the baby she’s having should have been yours and isn’t?”
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