Oopsie Daisy

by Iris Morland

  A burst of anxiety made me start sweating, as if he’d somehow known I’d just made an appointment to confirm I was, in fact, pregnant with his baby. Our baby.

  Wait, when had I started thinking of this thing as a baby?

  The email, however, simply read:

  Dear Ms. Wright,

  I’d like to schedule a time to meet with you to further discuss your class schedule. I’m available in the morning Wednesday and Friday of this week. I’m happy to meet outside of my office if that’s easier for you.

  Best wishes,

  Prof. Lochlann Gallagher, PhD.

  I snorted at his formality. This man had had his dick inside my hoohah, and he wrote me an email like that? I was so tempted to reply with that that I had to close my laptop and return to it half an hour later after I’d calmed down.

  I realized with even more irritation that I’d agreed to hang out with Dani that Friday morning, and my appointment was early on Wednesday. I’d have to meet Fancy Pants Professor Gallagher after my appointment.

  Great, just great. How lucky was I?

  When I replied to his email, I wrote:

  Dear Professor Gallagher,

  Please meet me on Wednesday at ten o’clock in the morning at The Bean Brewery on Main Street, if that is convenient for you. I do so enjoy their cinnamon latte—so scrumptious!

  I look forward to our scheduled assignation.

  Yours most sincerely,

  Katherine Wright, B.S., 1st year materials and science student, amazing overall human

  When I exited the clinic three days later, I glared up at the sun. Why was it so happy and shiny? It should be raining because this damn city should always reflect my mood. It should be cold, rainy, gray, and sad.

  Okay, maybe not sad—just scared. When the nurse practitioner had told me in her cheery voice that I was pregnant and that they could do an ultrasound right then to check on the fetus, I’d wanted to scream and cry.

  Oh, and in case you were wondering, when the parasite is this small, you don’t get to have one of those “squirt goo on your belly” ultrasounds. You get the “giant wand shoved up your vagina” type of ultrasound.

  So after basically losing my virginity a second time to an ultrasound wand, I crossed the street to sit on a bench in a tiny park about a mile from campus. A few moms with their kids played on the playground; one toddler tried to climb onto a swing and subsequently face-planted into the ground. I had to cover my mouth to keep myself from laughing.

  It was better than crying my eyes out for the millionth time this week.

  I checked the time—nine o’clock. I still had an hour to kill before I had to meet with my baby daddy. When I’d heard the heartbeat of our barnacle on the ultrasound, the realization that I was truly pregnant had hit me hard. I’d teared up, feeling both awed and terrified at the same time. What did I know about babies? I thought toddlers face-planting was funny. I could barely keep my succulent alive, for Christ’s sake, let alone another human being.

  Most of all, I knew I had to tell Lochlann. That thought alone sent a wave of anxiety crashing through me. My palms got sweaty, and I imagined all sorts of ways that conversation could go.

  Scenario 1: Lochlann is overjoyed and immediately goes down on one knee to propose. I run from the cafe in horror.

  Scenario 2: Lochlann bursts into tears and runs from the cafe before getting on a flight straight back to Ireland.

  Scenario 3: Lochlann thinks I’m lying and refuses to listen to me. He says it’s probably some other guy’s baby. I then murder him.

  None of those scenarios sounded appealing. And worst of all, how the hell was I going to attend grad school, further my research, and have a baby all on my own? I would be receiving a small stipend for living expenses, but certainly not enough to care for an infant. I’d have to move back in with my parents if Lochlann refused to help me. Just that thought alone made me want to melt into a sad, pathetic puddle.

  I loved my parents and my sisters, but they’d never really understood me. A baby would just mean being under their roof for God knew how long.

  I started walking toward the cafe when it was only five minutes until ten o’clock. I’d been so lost in thought that I’d lost track of time. I hurried down the sidewalk, almost running into an old lady walking her giant Doberman. Both dog and lady barked at me. I muttered an apology, hoping against hope that Lochlann would also be running late.

  By the time I arrived, I was hot, sweaty, and frazzled. I looked around the cafe, almost breathed a sigh of relief, when I spotted a dark head of hair at a corner table. Based on his expression, he wasn’t happy that I was late.

  “Ms. Wright,” he said as I approached. “You’re late.”

  I’d been running—okay, more like jogging pathetically—to the point that I had to lean over and catch my breath.

  “At. The. Park. Sorry. Lost. Track. Of. Time.” I inhaled after each word like a fish flopping on a deck after being pulled from the water.

  “Are you all right?” Lochlann took my arm and had me sit down. He began to fan me with a book he’d brought. “You’re bright red.”

  That remark just made me blush. I tended to turn red when I was hot, like I’d gotten a sunburn.

  I had not wanted Lochlann to see me again all sweaty, red, and out of breath.

  “I’m fine. Sorry. Give me a second,” I wheezed.

  Lochlann sat down across from me and waited.

  Under my lashes, I drank him in: he was wearing jeans and a sweater today. I’d never seen him dress casually. In Ireland, he’d been wearing dress pants, just like he had been when I’d met him in his office. Seeing him looking so accessible and handsome made my heart do a little happy dance in my chest.

  But based on the way he was looking at me, his heart wasn’t dancing. His heart probably wore the exact expression someone had when you told them you had raging diarrhea: vague disgust with a tinge of concern.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Lochlann’s Irish accent broke through my thoughts.

  “Uh, tea. Chai, I guess.”

  To my surprise, he said, “I’m surprised. You seem like a coffee drinker.”

  “I do usually, but now…” I swallowed that remark. Yeah, I wasn’t going to blurt the news that he was going to be a dad right this second.

  Especially when he was still acting like he didn’t recognize me. Or he really doesn’t remember you, that evil voice inside my head whispered.

  Shut the hell up, voice. I am the most memorable person in the existence of forever. And there’s no way he’d forget our epic sex-a-thon.

  Lochlann cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I’ll be right back,” he muttered.

  As I waited for Lochlann to return, I considered how I’d break the news to him. Did I just blurt it right out? Or did I try to ease into it? What are your thoughts on children? Well, you’re in luck—I’m having one and it’s yours!

  Yeah, that’d be a terrible idea.

  A cup of tea was placed in front of me. The steam curled toward my nose, and I inhaled the spicy scent gratefully.

  I could do this. I could put on my big girl panties, remind Lochlann of our fling, and then give him this bombshell news.

  But before I could open my mouth, he said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why I asked to meet with you this morning.”

  “Um—isn’t it about my schedule?”

  “No.”

  I waited for him to elaborate. His dark eyes narrowed, as if I’d done something offensive. Again.

  When we’d met in Ireland, Lochlann had been drinking, and I realized the alcohol had loosened him up. He’d possessed a dry humor that had immediately set my lady parts a’tingling. When he’d reached over and touched my thigh, his gaze dark with desire, I’d almost burst into flames. It hadn’t taken long for us to go back to the hotel to bang each other into next Tuesday.

  Where had that Lochlann gone? This one seemed like a shell of the man I’d met that night. Then ag
ain, booze tended to make people act differently than normal. Maybe he’d been drunker than I’d realized.

  “I wanted to speak with you about our previous history,” he said in the same tone you’d say It’s raining today.

  I’d just taken a sip of my tea and subsequently choked on it. Coughing, I wiped at my watering eyes as Lochlann waited for me to get a hold of myself.

  “What?” I croaked.

  “I made a mistake in pretending I didn’t recognize you at our first meeting. I’ll admit, I was so surprised I thought it was the best course of action.” Lochlann folded his hands. “But again, that wasn’t wise. That doesn’t mean we have to make this more complicated, however.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  He leaned toward me, and I caught a whiff of that scent that had driven me wild back in Ireland. “Ms. Wright. We had one night together that could put my career in jeopardy. It would behoove us to act as if it had never happened from now on.” He leaned back and looked away. “I considered having you transfer to another advisor, but our research is too similar. It would raise suspicion.”

  He fell silent. I waited from him to apologize, or to say something less…cold.

  Maybe it was my raging hormones; maybe it was the blank look on his face as he waited for me to agree to acting like our fling had been barely worth remembering. Or that this wasn’t just about him, that if people found out we’d slept together, I’d lose the respect of my peers. I was already on shaky ground, being a woman in STEM. If people thought I’d gotten ahead by fucking my advisor?

  I could never show my face in the department again.

  And right then, I knew I couldn’t tell him about this baby. Beyond that, I didn’t know what I’d do.

  I’ll figure that out later.

  “Well, do we have an agreement?” Lochlann sounded almost irritated.

  Good. Some emotion for once.

  “There’s nothing new to agree on,” I lied. “It was just one night, like you said. I’d already forgotten it.” I looked at my fingernails, trying to sound bored.

  “You seemed out of sorts at our first meeting.”

  “Well, it’s not every day your advisor turns out to be your summer hookup.”

  Lochlann’s lips curled upward. “Indeed.”

  I picked at imaginary dirt under my nails. “I already have a boyfriend. Steve. I told you about him last time, remember? So you don’t have to be afraid I’ll want to pick this up where we left off.”

  My heart was pounding, and I felt sweat break out on my upper lip. I caught Lochlann’s stormy gaze as I pounded the last nail in the coffin.

  “The sex wasn’t that great, anyway.”

  We stared at each other. Cliché, but you could’ve heard a pin drop. At the very least, I could’ve sworn I heard Lochlann’s masculine pride drop and clatter on the hardwood floor.

  To my surprise, Lochlann took my hand and stroked my palm with gentle fingers.

  “You’re a terrible liar, Kate,” he murmured, heat lacing his words.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You won’t look me in the eye.”

  I looked him straight in the eye and said slowly, “I’m not lying.”

  “I distinctly remember how you begged me to fuck you,” he continued in that lazy, heated voice. “How you came all over my cock as I fucked you. How you told me how much you loved when I rubbed your clit and how you dripped onto my fingers—”

  I stood up so quickly my chair tipped over. I was shaking: with arousal, with rage, with triumph. He hadn’t forgotten me, the fucker.

  “And now you can’t touch me,” I said, smiling deviously. “Have fun with that, Professor. Say a prayer you don’t die of blue balls.”

  Chapter Six

  Kate

  Three months earlier

  I’m sure you’re wondering: how did this fling happen in the first place?

  Well, in June I was attending my sister Mari’s wedding in Ireland. I’d never been there (no one in my family had, actually), and I’d been especially excited to meet some hot Irishmen. My soon-to-be brother-in-law, Liam, had an accent that could set a woman’s panties on fire. Not that I was lusting after my sister’s fiancé. Just someone with a voice and accent like his.

  I never claimed I wasn’t shallow, okay?

  My family arrived in Dublin a week before the wedding, mostly to help Mari prepare and to play tourist. I’d gotten bored hanging around my parents, I’ll admit, mostly because my dad wanted to go to all the gardens and talk plants while my mom wanted to go to any place where you could find faeries. Me, being a scientist, could only take my mom’s talking about the alignment of the planets and the fae folk emerging during the full moon or whatever for so long without losing my patience.

  I’d also wanted to go to Ireland to forget the fact that I’d made the waitlist for UW and was still waiting to see if they’d officially accept me. I’d taken the news as well as you’d expect—badly—when I’d gotten the email back in March. As the weeks had passed, it became less and less likely that someone would drop out and give me their spot. I’d emailed the department for an update before I’d gone to Ireland, and two days before the wedding, had gotten a reply.

  No news as of yet, but we’ll let you know if that changes.

  So what was a morose girl to do? Go to a pub and get trashed, of course.

  One of the things I could appreciate about the Irish is that they do not fuck around when it comes to their booze. Americans are pansies in comparison, let’s be honest here. I wandered to a pub a few blocks from our hotel so I didn’t run into anyone from the wedding party. I didn’t really want to hear about how happy Mari was, or how happy Dani was with Jacob, or about anyone’s happiness.

  Because when you’re a sad girl you want to wallow in your sadness. Other people’s happiness is like throwing water onto the Wicked Witch of the West: you melt into a puddle if you get too close to it.

  “Give me a pint,” I said to the bartender, slapping a few euros onto the counter.

  “Of what?” The bartender motioned toward the array of choices.

  “Whatever is best.”

  The bartender muttered something that sounded like bloody Americans before pouring some dark beer into a glass and pushing it toward me.

  “I could be Canadian, you know,” I said sagely.

  “A Canadian would apologize for wasting my time.”

  I saluted him. “Touché.”

  I drank the dark beer, not caring what it tasted like. I just wanted the alcohol to make me forget that I was a total failure and destined to live in a tiny apartment with twenty cats.

  Okay, I was being melodramatic. But I’d planned everything on getting into grad school, and I’d somehow managed to be chosen as an alternate for three programs—but no official yeses. How demoralizing. I would’ve thought they’d accept me because I had a vagina and these programs were hardly crawling with estrogen.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help but notice a man sitting alone at a table in the corner. He was drumming his long fingers against the wooden table, and he was wearing dark-rimmed glasses that he periodically pushed up his hawk-like nose. He had a strong jaw, and it looked like you could bounce a quarter off of it.

  I licked my lips. I licked my lips a second time when I saw how his dress shirt gaped open at the collar.

  Yum City.

  The man, as if knowing I was gawking at him, caught my gaze. And we had a moment. You know, those moments where your breath catches in your chest, time stops, and your heart skips a beat?

  Either I’m falling in lust or I’m having a heart attack.

  The man turned away after that moment. I scowled at him. Seriously? He wasn’t even going to attempt to come over and flirt with me?

  I needed a game plan. I needed—oh shit, he was coming over here right now, like I’d summoned him.

  “Lady, did you hear me?”

  I blinked over my shoulder at the bartender. “Uh?” />
  “You still owe me five euro.”

  I began to dig in my wallet. I’d forgotten to bring a credit card that didn’t fuck me over for foreign transaction fees, so cash it was. But before I found what I needed, the man placed some coins on the counter. “Get this woman another drink, too,” he said smoothly.

  I looked up and found myself drowning in sexy pools of sexy male. My lady parts danced a jig. My nipples hardened. I was infinitely glad I didn’t have a dick, because I’d have a boner that everyone in this pub would be able to see.

  “Thank you,” I said, trying to sound smooth. I tried to turn my spinning barstool back toward the counter, but I ended up spinning it too fast and almost fell off of it.

  “Whoa there.” The man grabbed me by the waist to steady me. “Careful there.”

  I let out a surprised laugh that turned into an awkward giggle. God, could I get even stranger?

  It wasn’t like I was a total novice when it came to men. I’d dated one guy in undergrad, and he’d squished my boobs as I’d touched his dick. But Grayson hadn’t ever tried to go further, and when he’d moved to Capitol Hill—only a few miles from campus but basically a continent away in Seattle—we’d drifted apart.

  Okay, fine, I was technically a virgin and my flirting skills needed work. I’d spent more time in the lab than I had working to attract a man.

  Yet tonight, something shifted inside me. Or more accurately, I wanted something new inside me. I didn’t want to be the crazy science girl tonight. I wanted to be alluring. Irresistible. Fuckable.

  “These things are a total hazard,” I said. “Thanks for saving me.”

  “You’re welcome.” The man’s voice was pure Irish deliciousness, and I savored every word he said. Liam’s accent had faded since he’d moved to the States. This man’s, though, was pure Irish and I wanted to lick every one of his vowels and consonants.