He kissed her. He couldn’t not. She had tears streaming down her face, and she was pouring her heart out, and he wanted to believe her so bad. “Tell me what you first told me on the pier. Tell me and mean it.”
“I love you, Beau Browning. I meant it then. I mean it now. And I’m never gonna feel any different.”
“You’re young, PJ. You might. Raising a kid at eighteen — even co-raising — it’s a huge responsibility. I’m not sure it’s really fair to ask you—”
“Don’t do that to me, Beau. I’m not a child. I know what I want. It’s this. It’s us. But if you don’t feel the same… if you can’t love me anymore—”
“Of course I can,” Beau cried. “But, Jesus H. Christ, I need to be able to trust you!” As soon as the words flew out of his mouth, Beau knew he’d struck a nerve, because suddenly, PJ was the one taking a step back, her face paling, her gaze falling to the floor.
She was keeping something from him. He’d sensed it after the game. “Is there something else? If there is, Pru, I need to know now. Not later. I need to hear it from you, not some gossipy witch like Odelle. I had enough of that type of shit after Max was conceived, and I—”
“I missed a pill.”
Beau’s mouth closed abruptly, his mind going a little blank.
PJ swallowed. “That night at the boathouse, when the condom broke, I told you I’d never missed a pill, but that wasn’t true because I’d missed one when I slept over on my birthday.”
Beau scratched his head, trying to do the math. Normally, his computational skills were lightning fast, which is how he’d ended up both an accountant and on-call tech support for pretty much his entire family. Currently, however, his brain cells were lagging hard. “But your birthday was a full month before we went to Bay St. Louis,” he finally managed. “Hadn’t you taken all your birth control since?”
PJ nodded quickly. “Heck, yeah. Absolutely. Yes—”
“PJ?”
“Yep?”
“Did you get your period last night?”
“Well, no—”
“This morning?”
“There was some promising discharge. I’m sure it’ll come.”
Now, Beau was the one swallowing, his throat constricting painfully. It took him several seconds to get out his next question. And this was the one that had his heart pounding away in his chest. “When exactly was your period due?”
“Technically… it was due Tuesday.”
“But it’s Friday.”
“My periods aren’t always regular. I’m sure it’s fine—”
“B-but it’s Friday,” Beau stammered again, not really hearing her as he began pacing the length of the room.
“I’m only three days late. I’ve been three days late before. It’s really not that unusual for me. I’m not worried about—”
Beau swerved on her. “Are you fucking kidding me right now!?”
“Uhm… no?”
Beau stared at her for a very long moment. Then he stalked over to the pants he’d chucked on the floor. His car keys were hanging out of the pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m really gonna need you to hang here for a minute.” Beau grabbed his keys and wallet, shoving both in the pocket of his sweatpants before ripping a T-shirt from his dresser. “I’ll be right back.”
“But where are you going?”
“To a drugstore,” he said, tugging on his shirt as he made for the door. “Regular or not, a home pregnancy test should be accurate by now.”
“But I already have one in my bag.”
Beau pivoted, took two quick strides, and snatched her backpack from the floor. Then he stalked towards the bed, ignoring PJ’s sounds of protest as he unzipped it and started rooting around. There was way too much crap in her bag. Beau grew impatient after five seconds of sifting, lifted the damn thing, flipped it over, and shook.
“Hey! What the hell!”
An avalanche of clothes, books, gum, makeup, and easily three dozen tampons splashed down on his quilt. Beau snagged the box that fell out last and shoved it at her. “Did you need a glass of water to get you going?”
“Noooo,” PJ drawled, “but I do need you to chill. I’m not taking it yet.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not. I’ll do it in the morning, when I’m four days late. Aunt Flo’s on her way. I don’t want to burn through a test if I don’t have to. That shit cost me fourteen dollars. I can still get a refund—”
“Goddamn it, PJ! Would you just take the fucking test?”
“NO!” she hollered.
They froze, their sights shifting to the door at the same time, both realizing how loud they were getting with a child sleeping down the hall.
PJ’s lips trembled as she turned back to him. “It’ll come,” she said in a much quieter voice. “Any hour now.” Beau lifted her hand and set the box in it. Her entire body was a tense line of resistance and denial as she stared at it.
“Please, Jane.”
As soon as he uttered the words, her shoulders sagged forward in defeat. “Fine,” she said at last. Then she shuffled into the bathroom.
Beau trailed in after her, taking a seat on the bench across from his vanity as she closed the door to the toilet room around the corner. He could see his reflection in the mirror over the sink. It wasn’t a pretty sight. His hair was a wreck, he had an annoying amount of stubble considering he’d shaved only just that morning, and his skin was pale.
And it only grew paler as the seconds ticked by. Because, once again, he found himself in the position of waiting out a test to confirm a pregnancy he hadn’t planned on. Only with Janelle it had been different. She’d been nearly two weeks late before she’d called him to tell him what was up, so by the time they’d gone down to the campus drugstore to pick up a test, they’d both already known what the results were going to be. With what PJ had told him about her irregular periods, it seemed like a fifty-fifty situation at best.
But what if the coin flipped baby? What if PJ was carrying his child right now? As Beau truly considered this for the first time, he couldn’t help feeling a perverse stab of satisfaction. Because only a couple minutes ago, he’d been worried about the possibility of her wanting to leave him once the rosy glow of first love wore off. But with his baby growing inside her, she was tethered to him in the most primal way, and the selfish dick part of him was extraordinarily pleased by this.
The decent guy part of him was worried he’d just blown up a young woman’s life. Again. PJ was only eighteen. He’d been worried about asking her to co-parent Max. But having a baby on top of that? Beau hung his head, guilt gnawing at him as he waited for PJ to finish peeing in the little room behind him.
It didn’t take long. Almost as soon as he heard the first trickle in the toilet, he could hear her sniffling.
Jesus. She was having his baby. Beau hopped up, his pulse quickening as he rounded the corner. The door was already opening. PJ had the test in her hands, her face about as red as the droplets of blood that had soaked into the business end of the stick.
“Can you hand me a tampon?” she asked quietly.
The rush of adrenaline Beau had just felt coursing through him crashed hard. “Of course,” he said, immediately striding back to his room to grab one from the huge pile on his bed.
When he handed it to her, she wouldn’t look at him, just shut the door in his face and did what she needed to do. Seconds later, she walked out and washed her hands. Still not looking at him.
“PJ?”
She lifted her head, her gaze catching his in the mirror. And the raw emotion in it was almost his undoing. Sadness, embarrassment, anger, relief. It was all there, and all Beau wanted to do was haul her into his arms and hug her like crazy, but he could sense the energy radiating from her now, and it was no longer a bubble. It was a great big wall of “back the hell off.” And he would respect it.
“Soooo,” she drawled, “needless to say. Not pregnant.”
“Pru…”
She walked past him into his bedroom. “I’m such an idiot. Shouldn’t have bought the fancy test with the words.” She shoved her things into her backpack as she grumbled. “Could have bought three flipping tubes of Great Lash for that damn much—”
“Pru?”
She zipped up her bag with an irritated jerk, then strapped it over her shoulder, her gaze finally swinging to his.
“I can buy you as much makeup as you want,” he said quietly, “But you know you don’t really need it.”
PJ only snorted before stalking down the hall to the front door.
He caught up to her, got a hand on her arm, and felt her stiffen. “Just wait a minute. I’ll—”
She whipped back around, eyes shimmering as they locked onto his. “You’ll what?” she asked heatedly.
Beau ripped at his hair, frustrated with her sudden animosity. He could understand it to some degree. He’d badgered her into taking a home pregnancy test, and then she’d gotten her period. He was probably lucky she didn’t kick him in the nuts.
But she was also the one who’d been dishonest. She was the one who’d lied. And he was still kind of pissed about that. Beau sighed, his hand dropping to his side. “I’ll drive you home. Let me just get Max—”
“I brought Francine’s car.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot.”
“I’ll have it through Tuesday, so you don’t need to worry about picking me up at the clinic.”
Beau frowned. He’d grown to enjoy their nightly routine. PJ’s absence in his car after the game had felt weird after so many weeks of chauffeuring her around, and even Max had whined about not having her in the backseat to snuggle with, right before his oversized head had fallen to his chest and he’d passed out.
But for as much as Beau disliked the idea of not seeing PJ for the next few days, he also knew they needed some space. What they’d just experienced was intense, and they both needed time to cool off. “Okay,” he said, with another tired swipe at his face, “We could probably use a break.”
PJ shrugged, her gaze falling to the floor. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever,” she said stiffly. Then she walked out the door and was gone.
Chapter 47
PJ didn’t say much Saturday. She sort of just existed on the couch, aimlessly drifting through TV channels as Dinah licked a raw spot on her forehead. The feline wanted her to open up about things, but PJ wasn’t ready to, not even to her favorite cat shrink, so she just lay there incessantly clicking the remote Johnny had fixed while scarfing down a bag of dark chocolate Twix.
Occasionally, she would get up to use the bathroom so she didn’t bleed out all over the sofa cushions, but she tried to do this as little as possible because every trip to the toilet had her thinking about that moment when she’d been sitting on Beau’s, and she’d been just about to pee, and she’d had the wildest sense of peace and acceptance, like after hours of obsessing over her missed period, she’d finally come around to the fact that it wasn’t going to, and she’d been shockingly okay with that. But then, it had come. And just as quickly, she’d felt shockingly relieved. And after the rapid-fire flux of her emotions, she’d left Beau’s bathroom in a state of shock and confusion that had quickly morphed into snark and bitch. PJ wasn’t surprised Beau wanted a break from her. She wanted a break from her. Which is why she hadn’t spoken a word in approximately sixteen hours, and Dinah was absolutely beside herself.
PJ hadn’t gone totally radio silent, however. Francine had texted her that morning with a picture of her fancy quiche breakfast from the B and B she and Johnny were crashing at in Florida. PJ had spared it a glance and a thumbs-up emoji before going back to her programming. A couple hours later, her mother had sent her a pic of her and Johnny snuggling at the beach. PJ had almost sent her the digital finger, but she’d figured that sort of response would have had her mother actually calling her, so she’d fired off a couple kissy face emojis before turning her phone off altogether.
All communication with the outside world had ceased for hours after that, and the only sounds of life in her apartment were the chatter coming from the TV and the occasional mewl from the kitty curled up around her head. And then, sometime around 3:30 according to her Dish guide, the doorbell rang.
PJ jerked at the sound.
Dinah scrambled from the couch.
PJ sat up quickly. Maybe it was Beau. Maybe he was already done with their break and wanted to talk, or kiss, or fuck like bunnies. Okay, option three was probably unlikely given their pregnancy scare sixteen hours ago. But still…
PJ raked at her hair and walked slowly over to the door. The closer she got, however, the more anxious she became. Maybe Beau wasn’t coming to say he was done with their break. Maybe he was coming to say he was just done with her for good. PJ sucked in a breath, willing herself to calm down.
The doorbell rang again. This time the loud peal of it was followed by the sound of little girl giggles. PJ exhaled, feeling kind of okay with the fact that her boyfriend was clearly not at her door, but also kinda not, as she pulled it open with the brightest smile she could muster.
It wasn’t hard to fake it, however, when she saw the three little imps barreling at her. “PJ!” they cried in unison, each one finding some part of her to latch onto. Bella and Simone went straight for the legs. Rain, the most energetic of the triplets, launched herself into PJ’s arms and wrapped her strong little limbs around PJ’s waist and neck. PJ squeezed her back, breathing in the familiar comforting scent of coconut clinging to the soft ringlet curls tickling her nose.
“For Heaven’s sake, y’all act like y’all haven’t seen your sister in forever,” their mother drawled from behind them.
“Well, it has been several weeks.” PJ felt a stab of guilt as Jillian Bruister leaned in and pecked her on the cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so swept up in this new job—”
“Girl, don’t even worry about it. I know how it is. I’ve got sales quotas to fill, and these three monsters to deal with—”
“We not monsters!”
“Of course, you’re not, Princess Bella.” PJ patted the protesting child glued to her right hip.
Jill snorted and pulled Rain from her arms. “You just ask your dad. This one swiped a hammer from Logan’s toolbox yesterday and decided to play Judge Judy on a Camaro he was restoring.”
“Ouch.”
“Yep. No more visits to the shop for a while, huh girls?”
Simone lifted her head from PJ’s left thigh, her bottom lip firing out in a pout. “Awwww. But we likes the big box what spits out da tweats.”
Jill swept her long dark braids over her shoulder as she sighed. “That dang vending machine. Your daddy is spoiling you girls with the candy.”
“I smell chocolate,” Rain said, earthy green eyes peeking around PJ in the direction of the couch.
“Oh, my bad. Did y’all wanna come in?”
“Actually, we’d like you to come out,” Jill said.
“Whaaaaat?” PJ drawled as her sisters circled around and started shoving her out the door.
Jill closed it behind them, smiled mysteriously, and grabbed PJ’s hand. “We just stopped by to deliver a package.”
PJ’s eyes watered as her stepmom tugged her towards the parking lot. It was bright as hell out, and she’d had the curtains drawn all day. By the time they came to a stop behind the woman’s minivan, PJ was blinking profusely. It took a few seconds for her vision to clear, but once it did, she was tearing up for an entirely different reason.
“Daddy!”
“Hey, Punky.”
Strong arms wrapped her up in a bear hug, and as her father lifted her off the ground a couple inches, she caught a faint whiff of motor oil, and an even stronger one of the little tin of cinnamon Altoids he always kept in the pocket of his leather vest.
“How’s my girl?” Logan Bruister set her down, a smile lifting the dark blond scruff on his cheeks.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Sorry I haven’t come
by in a while.”
“It’s alright. It gave me some time to finish her off for ya.” He glanced over at a car parked across from Jill’s Odyssey.
PJ gasped as she caught sight of it. Crowned with a giant pink bow, her fully restored 1972 Chevy Nova sparkled in the late afternoon sun. “Holy shi—” PJ’s hands flew up to her mouth to muffle the swear bomb. But holy shit was right. The ugly primer from a month ago had been painted over with a jet-black enamel infused with tiny flecks of silver, so that the car truly did sparkle. It was quite possibly the sickest paint job PJ had ever seen.
“Jill told me what your favorite shade of nail polish was, so I had my guy, Dylan, replicate it. You like?”
PJ could only nod as she trailed her fingers along sleek curves, rugged tires, and gleaming chrome rims, marveling at the car’s transformation from an old pile of junk to this stunning thing of beauty. When she circled around to the trunk, PJ couldn’t hold back a squeal. The license plate frame, the only overtly feminine detail her dad had included in the restoration, had been blinged out with thousands of purple micro-crystals that were winking at her as they caught the light. “Yes,” PJ managed, “it’s…” She glanced inside the car, unable to finish her train of thought because even though the interior was just as beautiful as the exterior, with its sporty leather seats and bad-ass vintage dash, it was suddenly hitting PJ that she now had her own ride. Her own bad-ass ride.
So she no longer needed to hitch one from Beau. And this made her kind of sad, even though she was mostly ecstatic. And it was all just a little too much. “It’s beautiful,” she squeaked, before promptly bursting into tears.
Her dad’s eyes widened, a hint of panic flashing in them as they shifted to his wife. “Aw, hell! You think that’s a happy cry?”
Jill settled an arm around his waist. “I don’t know, babe, but I say we sort it out over some pizza.”
“YAY!!!” Three little voices shouted in unison.
“And chocolate,” PJ said pitifully. “I need lots and lots of chocolate right now.”
“Woo-hoo!” her sisters cried.
“Oh, Lord.” Her father sighed. “I’m gonna have to hurt some fool, Jilly. I just know it.”
Pretty Jane (The Browning Series Book 3) Page 34