But even then, she didn’t fully believe that he was resigned. Every time they were in bed together—which, admittedly, was only twice—she felt connected to him in a way she had never felt with anyone. He felt…open to her. She was definitely opened to him, but they were both raw, live wires, and when they were intimate with each other, it was like she could hear into his heart.
And then there was the money.
She stepped into the kitchen to get a drink of water and saw the little square on the table. Charity was still sipping the water when she went over to discover it was a sticky note from her own fridge.
Cash this for the baby. —T
Oh, come on.
That was just…over the top. Leaving money on the table? What was she, a prostitute? In a fit of pique, she snatched up the papers from the kitchen table and tore them up, flinging the remnants into the trash bin beneath the sink.
Charity clapped her hands together, feeling a surge of adrenaline and pride.
For about thirty seconds.
And then doubt set in.
Maybe she should have cashed it. Trey had made it perfectly clear that it was meant to support the baby. She didn’t have to spend it right away. She could have put it aside for when the baby was born, or even started a college fund.
Too late for that now.
In the end, she could ask him for money if she really needed it. This wasn’t his only check. And Charity knew that Trey wasn’t gone for good. He took his commitments too seriously for that. She could walk away from him as many times as she wanted, and kick him out of her house ad infinitum, and he’d still show up again with that caring face of his.
The same face that had told her this was all a mistake.
She couldn’t reconcile the two versions of Trey. It wasn’t working.
Charity sat back down at the kitchen table and flipped open her laptop. The spreadsheet loomed up on the screen. Nothing had changed about the numbers during the walk. It was true that she had done some thinking about her finances, but no amount of thinking in the world could change that the situation was grim.
The fact was that Charity didn’t want to take advantage of her parents. She had never wanted to. The only reason she’d agreed to live in the little house on their property was because her dad had sat her down and explained that, it made sound financial sense. Still, Charity hadn’t wanted to take anything for free. The house was paid off, but Charity paid a portion of the taxes for the land she used, plus all the utilities. She’d had the electric and water companies out to install separate meters.
If she lived without the central air…
She sighed. The central air was, honestly, her saving grace. She wasn’t very far along in her pregnancy but already Charity could feel herself running hot. It wasn’t a very large home, or a large air installation, but she couldn’t imagine turning it off in the hottest part of the summer. So that was out.
But something had to give. The numbers barely added up.
Before Trey had come, she’d been figuring out how to survive through the fall on the money she had. Assuming no more money came in…it wasn’t going to work. Even if she spent as little as she could on groceries and gas, her savings—what was left of them after she bought Kepler—would only last her through October or November. And that was if everything went right. It also, she realized, didn’t factor in setting up a nursery or any unexpected medical expenses. The Millers' bought an insurance plan together and the coverage was pretty good for pregnant women, but who knew what could happen?
Charity grimaced at the screen and flipped the laptop shut. She needed to figure out another plan. She had fallback options—she could take a loan from Austin, or from her parents—but that was a situation she’d always wanted to avoid at all costs. And she’d been so successful at it up until now.
She thought of Kepler, riding so confidently around the barrels in the paddock, and even though things were tight, she didn’t regret buying him.
And she was not going to sell him to Trey.
Charity got up and pushed in the chair beneath the kitchen table. She wanted to be riding Kepler, but something in her gut told her that it wasn’t a good idea. The fall had been sign enough that riding was unsafe for now. But sitting still didn’t suit her, either.
She cast about, looking for things to tidy and clean to distract her and make her feel productive, but there wasn’t much. She re-folded the blanket that draped over the back of her couch, wiped down the sink in the bathroom—she’d cleaned it the day before, so a full scrub-down wasn’t a requirement—and tugged up the comforter and sheets on her bed into crisp flat lines. She wished she could splurge on new bedding. The current set reminded her of Trey, and that was pathetic.
What she needed was to get out of the house.
Maybe even…out of town.
It was afternoon on Thursday, and her appointment wasn’t until next Tuesday. She’d already volunteered with the 4H program that week. If Charity played her cards right, she could hop a cheap flight to Chicago and stay with Layla for the weekend.
“Yes,” she whispered under her breath, then lunged for the dresser.
She had a carry-on size suitcase stowed in her closet, and within a few minutes she was zipping up a set of packing cubes that kept all of her clothes sorted and neat inside the suitcase. It wasn’t often that she got to fly anywhere, but she was an old hand at packing for trips. Usually, she traveled for the barrel racing circuit, and that meant driving and towing the horse trailer. With all the gear that came with competition, having everything organized was essential.
Charity zipped up the suitcase with a few sharp motions. Oh, right—she should probably call her friend before she showed up on her doorstep like a runaway. And maybe the airport. No—she’d just book a ticket at the counter, the old-fashioned way.
She found her phone in the kitchen and dialed Layla’s number. It took her friend two rings to answer.
“Charity!” Layla’s voice was cheery and surprised, and it made her feel better immediately. “What’s up? We haven’t talked in a few days.”
“I—” There was so much to say. Really, they hadn’t talked in a couple of weeks. Charity wasn’t sure how to tell her friend the news. It was odd, how private she felt about it, because usually she shared everything with Layla. It had always been that way, since they first met. This just seemed like the kind of thing a person should announce face-to-face. “Are you busy this weekend?”
Layla squealed with delight. “Are you coming to visit? Because in that case, you can stay in the guest room.”
“The guest room,” Charity said in a faux-fancy voice. “Yes, I would love to stay in your guest room. I’m thinking about taking a little vacation.”
“Driving or flying?”
“Driving would take up most of the weekend, so…”
“Flying? Awesome. Just give me a minute.” Charity heard the distant sound of clicking, like Layla had taken the phone away from her ear and was typing on the screen.
“What are you doing?” she shouted into the speaker.
“Booking your flight,” came Layla’s voice. She had taken the phone away from her mouth, but Charity could still hear her.
“Oh, my god. You do not need to book my flight.”
“I have, like, a billion frequent flyer miles from all my trips with the firm. I am totally booking your flight. This is amazing. I can’t believe you have the time off.”
It was true—Charity was usually busy with training and racing, especially during the summer months though there were events all year round. She had only been to visit Layla once before, just after her friend had moved to Chicago.
“Sorry this is so last-minute.” Oh, no. What if— “You’re not cancelling plans for me, are you? Are you even planning to be in the city? Because I can come a different weekend—”
“I hope you want to leave tonight,” Layla said.
Oh, sweet relief. “Sooner the better.” The airport was an hour awa
y, so…it couldn’t be that soon, but Layla knew that.
“Okay.” Her friend’s voice came closer again. “Your flight is in three and a half hours. There’s a thirty-minute layover, but it’s at a small airport and the weather seems fine. I’ll pick you up at the airport at eleven.”
“But what about—” Charity’s phone buzzed. “Is that the details?”
“Yep. The ticket should load into your app when you open the email.”
“Right. Right.” Charity would have to brush up on the travel apps her phone had. That much was obvious. But she’d have time in the airport. “I’m so excited! I’ll see you soon!”
They disconnected the call and Charity went to slip the last of her travel items into her suitcase. There. It was done. She could go.
She headed out to the driveway in a light spirit and tossed her suitcase into the cab of her truck. A few minutes, and she’d be on the open road, with nothing to—
Austin’s blue truck screeched to a halt in front of Charity’s.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he shouted out the window, then opened the door and hopped out.
“You’re blocking me in, you jerk,” Charity said, her hand tightening on the door of her truck.
“I heard your big news.” Austin’s jaw was set, his eyes fierce. “You and Trey, huh?”
She was too tired for this. “It’s none of your business.”
“It is my business if my little sister gets pregnant because—”
“It’s none of your business, Austin,” she shouted, louder.
“You need to get married.” Austin planted his feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s got to be the first thing on your agenda.”
“If you want Trey to get married so bad, find him a different wife. Right now, I’m headed out.”
“To where?”
“None of your business.” Charity got into her truck and started it up. “Better move your truck.”
Austin came up next to her window. “You have to get married, Charity. You can’t bring a baby into a broken home.”
“What century are you from?” she spat. “I can do anything I want to do. This is my life. And in case you’re forgetting, your best friend in the world came from a ‘broken home.’ You want to run his life, too?”
“No, I want to make sure you’re both…you’re all okay.”
“I’m fine,” she said, teeth gritted. “Get your truck out of my way.”
“It could be set up in five minutes, you know,” Austin said, using his best sensible-older-brother voice. “All you’d have to do is show up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll call the minister myself. You can get married in two weeks…”
Charity dropped her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. “I have never hated you more than I hate you in this moment.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Trust me, Austin, I do.”
“I’m only trying to do what’s best.”
“Hey, Austin, I don’t know if you know this, but it’s not your decision who I marry, when I marry, or even if I marry at all. Now move your truck out of the way before I hit it on my way out.”
She opened her eyes to see Austin smirking at her. “You wouldn’t do that, and we both know it.”
Charity narrowed her eyes at him, then put her truck into drive.
Austin laughed.
There wasn’t enough room for her to get pull out onto the road without hitting his back bumper. She’d have to scratch it, at minimum.
“At least tell me where you’re going,” Austin said.
“No.”
She hit the gas, going slowly forward a few feet, then another foot, until her front bumper was inches away from his.
Austin stood back from the window, watching her.
“Move your truck, Austin.”
“You’re not going to hit it.”
She stomped her foot down on the gas, the wheel cranked to the right, and her bumper scraped against his.
“Oh my god!” Austin yelled, running for his truck. “What are you thinking?”
I’m thinking I want to get out of here. End of story.
“I told you to move it,” she called out the window.
Austin shot her a look and jumped into the cab of his truck. Charity graciously waited until he’d pulled forward to drive into the driveway, but as she straightened out her truck, she saw him climb out through her rearview mirror.
In a moment he was back at her window.
“You’re making a mistake, Charity. You should listen to me. And Trey.”
“I’ll add it to my list of things to do. Right at the very bottom.”
Charity looked him in the eye, then hit the button to roll up the window. Austin yanked his hands away before they got shut between the glass. Then she gave him a little wave and drove away.
Eleven
The moment Charity saw Layla waving from the curb, standing next to a black, shiny car, she picked up speed and jogged toward her. It was a reunion right out of the movies. Charity could hardly keep herself from screaming with joy. It didn’t matter that it was eleven at night—she was wide awake and thrilled to see her best friend.
Layla released her from the hug and looked at her.
Charity couldn’t take it another moment.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out.
“With Trey’s baby?” Layla shouted, her voice echoing off the concourse building behind them.
“Oh, my god, do you want everyone to hear you?”
“Nobody here knows us!” Layla grabbed for Charity’s hand. “Is it his? Oh, my god. Is he—did you—”
“Let’s get into the car. I’ll tell you everything.”
Charity gave her all the details as the driver took them from the airport to Layla’s downtown apartment. It was in a high-rise not far from the Loop. As they climbed out into the sultry summer night, Layla sighed. “I can’t believe you’re pregnant.”
“Trust me. If anyone can’t believe it, it’s me.”
“That is just…great news.”
They crossed the air-conditioned lobby, with its marble floor, and stepped into the elevator. Layla tapped her phone against a pad in the elevator to access her floor and when she turned around, Charity was still staring at her.
“What?”
“Did you just say this was great news?”
“Of course.” Her friend shook her head. “What else could it be?”
The elevator rose smoothly and quietly. “Uh…devastating news? A big mistake—just like the sex was, according to the baby’s daddy?”
Layla waved a hand. “Trey didn’t mean any of that. He’s only afraid that Austin would beat him up for sleeping with you.”
“Austin would never beat him up.” Charity said the words, but she didn’t quite believe them. Austin had been pretty pissed when he’d shown up at her house, and clearly, he’d heard the news from Trey. She could not imagine that that conversation had gone well.
“That’s all beside the point.” Layla led the way into her apartment. It wasn’t the one she’d originally moved into. No—this one was far nicer. The entryway split off into a full-sized kitchen that looked out onto a beautiful, spacious living room with a cream-colored sectional couch. Charity’s shoulders relaxed just looking at it. “The point is—Charity?”
“Sorry. Just admiring your couch. I think I’m in love.”
“More in love than you are with Trey?”
“I’m not in love with Trey,” she said automatically.
“Okay,” said Layla, in the tone that told Charity her lies were transparent. “The point is, from what you’ve told me, the two of you had an amazing connection. And now you’re pregnant with his baby. This is…this is a door opening.”
“A door opening? More like a bunch of them shutting in my face. I’m screwed.” Charity hadn’t spilled this part yet. “I don’t have enough savings to last the year. And w
hat if I can never race again?”
“We’ll figure it out.” Layla leaned forward and gave her a big hug. “Listen. You’re tired. I’m tired. I took tomorrow off.”
“You did what?”
“I have racked up tons of vacation days. So, I took through Tuesday off. We’re going to have an extended girls’ weekend and figure everything out, and then you can go back home and figure things out with Trey.”
“I don’t know if Trey and I will ever figure anything out,” Charity said.
“Nonsense.” Layla picked up Charity’s suitcase and turned around. “Follow me. I’ll show you the guest room.”
* * *
The two of them slept in the next morning. The bed in Layla’s guest room was the most luxurious bed in the world, as far as Charity was concerned, with a fluffy white duvet and four pillows. The only reason she woke up at all was because she smelled coffee brewing. She always had one cup in the morning, and Dr. Rosario had assured her that it would be totally safe to continue that throughout the pregnancy.
Charity went into the en-suite bathroom and showered, tossing her hair up in a twist. She was dressed and ready to go—wherever they were going to go—in fifteen minutes flat. Then she went out to meet Layla.
“What strikes your fancy?” her friend said as she handed her the mug of coffee. “Museums? Movies? Netflix? Nothing?”
“All of it. All of it sounds like heaven.” Charity spent a lot of time on the road and usually wanted to curl up at home when all the traveling was done, but she’d felt a serious case of cabin fever the last few weeks. “The weather’s nice.” That was clear enough outside the enormous picture window in Layla’s living room. “Maybe we do a museum this morning, a movie in the afternoon, and dinner and Netflix in the evening?”
Layla snapped her fingers. “Consider it done.”
It was a routine they both thoroughly enjoyed, and they followed it Friday, and then Saturday, and then Sunday. By Sunday afternoon, after an enormous lunch at a diner down the street from Layla’s apartment, Charity found herself in need of a nap. She sank down on the sectional and closed her eyes.
The Cowboy’s Mistake Page 8