“There aren’t bathrooms here . . .”
What? No bathrooms in the store? What kind of fuckery is this? “Okay . . .”
“There’s a Starbucks right next door. How about you pay, and I’ll go grab us coffee?”
He’s seriously perfect. “That would be great. Thank you.”
Callum kisses my forehead. “I’ll meet you over there.”
I’m grateful he offered this because I couldn’t handle another few hours. I have to know if I’m pregnant . . . before I meet his mother.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nicole
Please don’t be two lines. Please don’t be two lines.
I’m pacing around the bathroom of the coffee shop, trying not to puke. It can’t be positive. There’s no way that it will be. I’m smart and take my pill at the same time every single day. I never miss. I’m not on any medications, and we don’t need to use a condom with that, right? I’m stupid. I always use condoms. It’s a damn rule for a reason. But there I was a horny fucking nut job and practically shoved his dick into me. Well, then again the other night, but I wouldn’t be pregnant from that.
I grab my phone and text Danielle.
* * *
Me: I’m taking a test.
* * *
When she doesn’t respond in exactly two seconds, I fire off another one.
* * *
Me: You know, to see if I’m fucking knocked up.
* * *
Still no response.
* * *
Me: You suck as a friend. I’m over here freaking out, and you’re ignoring me.
* * *
Me: Seriously, I peed on a stick . . . alone . . . and you can’t even respond to a damn text message?
* * *
Danielle: Dude, it’s six in the morning!
* * *
Me: And?
* * *
Danielle: Jesus, you’re worse than my kids. What did the test say?
* * *
My stomach flips because I know I should look. I’ve been in here a while, and Callum is probably out there wondering what the hell is taking me so long.
* * *
Me: I haven’t looked.
* * *
Danielle: Well, look.
* * *
I take a deep breath and grab the directions, which I’ve read seven thousand six hundred and twelve times, just to be sure I don’t mess it up. The one window should have a line, and if I’m pregnant, the second window will have a plus. If I’m not, it’ll be blank.
Got it.
I grab the test and . . .
What the fuck?
The one box has the line so it worked and the other side has only one line, not a plus, but half a plus. Does that mean I’m half pregnant?
* * *
Danielle: Hello?
* * *
Me: The test is fucking broken! It’s goddamn defective!
* * *
I take a photo of the directions and the test and send it to her.
* * *
Danielle: Ha! Only you! Okay, you need to take another one in a few days. You’re either pregnant but it’s too soon or you got a faulty test.
* * *
Me: No shit those are my options! I hate everyone.
* * *
I let out a huge groan and a few more after it to cover the curse words I’d like to use. Such bullshit. I can’t believe this. Of all the damn things not to work, it has to be a pregnancy test. Fuck my life.
Before I can type another text, there’s a bang on the door. “One minute!” I yell, pulling out the second test that came in the box.
“Nicole? Is everything all right?”
Shit.
“Yeah, baby. I’m fine. I just . . . my stomach. Gimme one minute.” Did I just call him baby?
Dear God, I’m projecting. Also, I don’t like terms of endearment. I like Callum, not babe, honey, sweetheart, or baby. He’s fucking Callum. The God with a magical penis. If he’s getting any nickname, it’s going to be Mighty Dick.
Although, he might like that.
“Okay. Are you getting ill?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. I’m sure.”
There’s no way I can spend another five minutes in here, and I don’t have to freaking pee again anyway. I swear, my life should be a sitcom.
I slip test number two into my bag of things I don’t need, toss the defective test into the trash can, and gather the rest of my self-respect off the floor.
Time to go out there and . . . be a grown-up—and also lie to his face about what I was doing in here.
He’s right there when I open the door. “Hi.”
“Hello,” he says with a raised brow.
“Sorry, you know, girl stuff. But I’m fine now.”
He nods. “I was worried.”
“No need to be.” I give him a sweet smile.
“If you say so . . .” Callum rubs the back of his head, and I see the concern in his eyes. He’s so damn sweet. “Listen, I got a call from the office. I need to pop in there. I won’t be long.”
“Oh! I’d love to come see it,” I say with excitement. I’ve pictured his office to be very much like his apartment. Callum in my head should be in dark, sleek designs. More slate and steel than mahogany and leather. I can’t wait to see if I’m right.
“I’m just going to be there for a few minutes. Since your stomach is bothering you so much, let’s get you settled and then I’ll bring you by the office later.”
I played up the stomach thing and now that’s going to bite me in the ass. “I’m feeling much better. I really don’t mind.”
“Nicole, you’ve been in there for damn near twenty minutes.”
It was not. Ten minutes tops. It took me a few minutes to work up the courage to open the pregnancy test, and then I had performance anxiety, which I now fully understand. If it ever happens to Callum, I’ll be nice about it. Then there was the whole peeing and having a broken test.
“Exaggerating much?” I say playfully.
“I got a call from my mother, canceling us going there, then got a call from work—”
“Wait,” I say. “We’re not meeting your mother?”
He shakes his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a little miffed.
Why am I disappointed? I hate mothers. All of them. They’re nosey, judgmental, and often remind me that I’m not good enough for either their precious son or anything else. Meeting her wasn’t what I wanted, but I wanted to share something with him. Know him on a deeper level and maybe get to see some embarrassing pictures that I can use against him later.
She was the one who wanted to meet me in the first place, so it makes no sense now why we aren’t going. “Why did it get cancelled?”
He runs his hand down his face. “Mum was invited to visit a friend who has been sick for quite some time. She wants to see her while she can. Hopefully, we can catch up with her tomorrow.”
Oh. Okay. I mean . . . it makes sense. “Sure, that’s fine.”
“Good. Let’s head back to my flat, you can lie down while I sign a few documents and then we’ll head out and do something if you’re up to it.”
“But I’m up to it now.”
“So you weren’t sick in there? I heard you grunt and groan like you were in pain. I was damn near ready to break the door down.”
“No, it was just . . . nothing.”
“I’d still feel much better if you rested so we can go out tonight.”
I’m not used to being babied, but he’s being really sweet and I’m not telling him the whole truth. “Okay, I mean, if it’ll make you feel better, even though I’m completely fine.”
Just freaking out a little on the inside.
Although . . .
If he leaves me alone in the apartment, I can take the second pregnancy test without him there.
This might be okay.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nicole
It’s been almost two hours.
I’m definitely pregnant and alone, so each minute that ticks by is torture. I’m so messed up I can’t even tell my friends.
All I’ve done is talk myself in circles, trying to figure out how the hell this happened.
Unlike the first test, the second didn’t do the half-plus, not-really-all-there thing, nope, this one was a bright pink positive.
I can’t think. I can’t wrap my head around how. Ninety-nine percent fucking effective my ass.
I get up and start pacing again. I need to tell him, but how? Do I just be, like, hey, Cal, guess what? I’m having our love child? Or do I wait until after I see a doctor and have it confirmed? You’d think that, at my age, this wouldn’t be a concern, but here I am . . . concerned as fuck.
Instead of doing this mental breakdown ridiculousness, I could call one of my friends, but . . . I won’t.
Callum should be the first person to know.
Then, together, we can come up with a plan, because right now . . . I got nothing.
I grab my phone and check the time . . . again.
Two more minutes gone.
I need to do something—anything. So I text him.
* * *
Me: Hey, where are you? I’m going stir crazy here.
* * *
Callum: I’m on my way. It took a bit longer than I hoped.
* * *
No shit. Long enough for me to find out we’re having a baby and to lose my shit.
* * *
Me: Okay. See you soon.
* * *
Callum: I miss you.
* * *
Awww, he’s so sweet.
* * *
Me: I miss you too.
* * *
And I do. Not because I just don’t want to be alone here but because I found myself wanting to snuggle into him.
Jesus, I’m officially one of my stupid lovesick friends. Someone needs to slap me.
I decide I literally can’t take the silence and being alone, so I video call Heather.
“Hey!” she says with a huge smile. “How are you? How is London?”
I want to tell her. She’s been my best friend, and we really don’t keep secrets from each other, but I know the right thing to do is to talk to him first. Like a couple would do. “I’m okay,” I say and then switch right away. “London is amazing. We went all over. It’s nothing like I remember in college.”
She laughs. “Well, I don’t remember much about college. Way too much beer.”
“Very true. How is Eli? Are you guys in Tampa now or somewhere else?”
Heather has been traveling with her husband because the idea of being away from him makes her nuts. She was the most independent person I knew, but when her sister passed, something changed inside her.
I don’t know if it’s Eli, grief, or that she hates her job. Being a police officer is hard for her, mostly because her ex-husband is her boss. That isn’t awkward at all. Matt, Heather’s ex, and Scott, Kristin’s ex, could form a club for douchebags with little dicks. I’m not sure who would be the president of it . . . maybe they could do a shortest-straw-wins competition? Either way, they both suck.
We celebrated both their divorces.
“No.” Heather’s lips turn down. “He’s in L.A. for a few days. I’m headed into work because I can’t seem to quit. Brody cries when he has to ride with another partner.”
“When is your next shift?”
“In about an hour.”
“Callum had to run to the office,” I say, and she laughs. “Why are you laughing?”
“Dude, your face. You looked like someone took your favorite toy away.”
“I like his toy.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, we know, you like to play with all the sticks.”
“You can say dicks, Heather. It’s totally allowed.”
“I’ll remember that. When are you coming back home?”
That’s the million-dollar question. I’ve been here for a little over a week, and Callum hasn’t mentioned anything other than a quick trip somewhere before we head back to the states. No idea what the hell he has planned, but I’m not complaining.
Since I’ve been here, my creative juices have been pumping into overdrive. I don’t know if it’s the details in all the buildings or what, but I have so many ideas.
“We haven’t gotten there yet, but I’ll let you know,” I promise.
“Okay. You look really happy, Nic.”
I smile. “I feel it. I don’t know. He’s so great, and so many things are happening with us . . . really fast. It’s scary, but I’m happy.”
Heather’s eyes are filled with warmth. “I know that you have this secret that you don’t think I know.”
Oh, fuck.
She continues on. “I’ve let you have it because I know you need it. Kristin didn’t tell me either, so you can put that out of your mind. Just remember what I do for a living. Anyway, whatever happened with you before is in the past. You were the biggest Eli advocate I know. You pushed me and Kristin to open ourselves to whatever was coming, and I’m asking you to do the same.”
I lean back against the headboard. “I’m pretty sure I already have.”
“How so?”
“As scared as I am . . . and I’m fucking terrified,” I admit, “I really like him. I could love him.”
“Could or do?” My face falls, and she shrugs. “Please, you’re the most annoying ass I know. You don’t give us any room to get out of things, welcome to the other side.”
“Whatever.”
There’s a buzzer going off behind her. “I have to get to work. I love you!”
“I love you too.”
“You do and you love Callum! Bye!”
And then the bitch hangs up before I can say anything else.
Callum should be home any minute. Maybe I should take a shower? I can let the steam calm me, and I might be able to get my brain to settle down. Sure, like that ever works.
Standing in front of the mirror, I place my hand on my belly. “So, I guess you’re in there,” I say to the baby. “I’m your mom. I’m also a hot mess, and your dad and I aren’t married, but you know, I’m the least traditional person in the world. I’m pretty sure I’m going to suck pretty bad at this because I’m . . . a mess. I’ve done things that I can only pray you’ll never do. Although, I’m sure you will since you’re half me.”
It’s best to establish that honesty is the best policy early, right?
“Okay, so, whatever happens, just know that I’ll be trying really hard not to fuck you or this up. I can’t make promises that I won’t, little baby, but I will do better than my parents did. That’s not really a great measuring stick, but it’s all I got.”
I look at myself for another few seconds and then I hear a door.
Oh, God. He’s home.
Jesus.
Okay, I need to stay calm. My heart is racing, and my stomach is filled with lead. I don’t know how he’s going to react, and I’m afraid.
Callum has never shown me any sign that he’d be cruel in any way, but . . . this is a big deal. This is a baby.
There are real things here to consider. We’re really new, and he may not want to be hitched to my wagon forever, but with a kid—he will be. It’s also going to be a shock because this never should’ve happened. It did, and even if he gets mad and doesn’t want to be obligated to this baby or me, I wouldn’t take it back. I can do this on my own. I’m financially stable, and for the most part, mature enough. Whether Callum wants to be in the baby’s life or not, I can do this.
I’ve helped raise—corrupt—my friends’ kids. I know how to change diapers, and I’m sure they’ll be there to help. Whatever his reaction is, I’ll be fine.
Now that I’ve worked that all out, it’s time to go deliver the news.
I head out to the living room, only he isn’t there.
&
nbsp; “Hello? Callum?” I call out.
“Hello,” a woman with long dark hair and brown eyes says. “Who are you?”
Maybe this is his cleaning lady? “Who are you?”
“I’m Elizabeth Huxley.”
I’ve never heard that name before, but it still has my pulse spiking to insane levels. “Callum didn’t mention anyone would be coming over.”
Please, God, be a sister or cousin.
“I see. I’m not surprised since he tends to leave important details out. Who are you?”
Déjà vu hits me so hard I can’t breathe. No. Not again. No. I can’t.
“I’m Nicole.”
Elizabeth looks me up and down with a harsh look. “Well, Nicole, if you could get your things and leave my home, I’d appreciate it.”
“Your home?”
Please don’t say the words that I know are coming next.
“Yes. I’m Callum’s wife, and this is my flat.”
And the floor drops out from beneath me.
Again.
I’ve done it again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Callum
The traffic is horrendous. What should’ve been a twenty-minute ride has taken me over an hour. I’ve sent several text messages to Nicole, all have gone unanswered.
Not Until You Page 15