Not only do I have to tell my parents I’m pregnant, I have to tell my brothers.
“We’ll figure it out, Quinn. Together.”
I pull the blankets up to my chin and close my eyes. Just last night, I was hell-bent on hating Archer Jones for the rest of my life. Now his baby is growing inside of me, and I’m slipping.
“Archer,” I start, shifting my eyes to his. “I don’t want you to be with me because we’re having a baby.” I say each word slowly and carefully. Inhaling, I sit up and try to gather my composure. “I’m an adult. I made the adult decision to sleep with you that night. Twice. And then again the next day.” Rufus jumps onto the bed again and army crawls his way between Archer and me. I bury my fingers in his thick fur, thankful for the distraction. “And then you went back to Indy, and yeah, I wished you would call, but you didn’t and I got over it, and it’s okay.” I’m rambling again, and there’s no end in sight. “Like I said, you don’t owe me anything. We’re adults and did an adult thing and this happened.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Don’t be with me just because I’m pregnant with your baby.” Dammit. That sounded way more dramatic than I wanted it to.
“I don’t want you to go through this alone.”
“I won’t. I have no doubt you will be an amazing father, but Archer, I’d rather us not be together and raise this kid the best we can as single parents than try to force something that’s not really there.” Each word hurts as I say it, but I have to think about this child first.
This. Child.
My child. Archer’s child. Our child.
And now I’m crying again.
Archer takes me in his arms, soothing me by rubbing my back. “It’s going to be okay.”
My mother’s voice floats up the stairs. She’s talking to Dean, chastising him for passing out on the couch and not going upstairs into one of the guest rooms. Archer moves away and wipes a tear from my cheek.
“It’s going to be okay,” he repeats. I want to believe him, but I can tell he doesn’t even believe himself.
20
Archer
The bathroom door closes, and I’m still standing there, looking at the white paint until my vision goes blurry. After I reassured her everything will be okay, she smiled and said she was going to take a shower. But I can’t move. Hell, I can hardly breathe.
Quinn is pregnant with my baby.
I’m trying to let it sink in, but my defenses are up and I can’t think past the fact she’s been feeling sick and it’s partly my fault. Or all my fault? I know it took both of us to create the baby, and it’s not like Quinn wasn’t willing. But…fuck. How could I let this happen?
I’m a doctor. I know how the body works. And yet I had sex three times with Quinn within twenty-four hours and only used a condom once. Though it’s not like I brought any with me Friday night. I didn’t expect to hook up with anyone, and when it finally happened with Quinn, I wasn’t thinking straight.
Rufus tips his head, listening to Mr. And Mrs. Dawson move around the kitchen. Knowing it’s time for breakfast, he lazily pads out of Quinn’s room. Suddenly, sweat breaks out along my forehead and my heart starts to race.
Quinn is pregnant.
I’m going to be a father.
And then it hits me all at once, so hard I have to sink down on Quinn’s bed behind me. We’re not married. We’re not even a couple. Quinn made it pretty clear she doesn’t want to be with me just because we’re having a baby.
But it’s not like I can just stop by after work and help her with the baby. And I don’t want to not be with my own child. I want to be involved. I want to be there for everything. I want to feel the baby kicking. I want to set up the nursery. Cut the cord. Read to the kid as soon as he or she is born. Hold her. Cuddle her. Help Quinn with everything after birth and not have her worry because I’m there for her and for our baby.
I want us to be a family.
But Quinn is right, and we can’t jump into a relationship just because she’s pregnant. I’ve seen that happen with friends and it doesn’t always pan out, and the last thing I want is resentment to grow between us.
I need to be practical and stop thinking about myself. Quinn is pregnant and suffering from symptoms already. Is it going to interfere with her work? And when the baby is born?
My head spins. I shift my eyes to the bathroom door. We have nine months to figure it out. Is that enough time to make Quinn fall in love with me? To be with me because it feels as good for her as it does for me?
It’s not just us at stake now, and the bottom line is doing what’s best for our child. No matter what.
“You’re a quiet bunch,” Mr. Dawson comments. Quinn, Dean, and I are sitting at the island counter eating breakfast. Quinn is picking at eggs and bacon, and I hope she’s able to keep it down. “Suffering from too much fun last night?”
Quinn flicks her eyes to me and picks up a piece of bacon. “Something like that.”
“What’s the plan today, kids?” Mr. Dawson pours another cup of coffee and sits at the table. “I take it you’re joining us for church?”
“Probably not today,” Dean mumbles.
“If you want Father Daniels to marry you, you and Kara should start going to church,” Mr. Dawson tells Dean, who nods in agreement.
“We’ll start going next week.”
“You said that over a month ago too.”
“Fine. I’ll text Kara. But she had friends over last night and is probably hung over.” He picks up his phone and sends Kara a text. A few seconds later, he swears.
“I take it Kara’s up and ready for church?” I ask with a laugh.
“Yes,” he sighs. “I guess I better get ready.”
“What about you, sweetheart?” Mr. Dawson asks Quinn.
“Would you be upset if I stayed home? I don’t feel all that well and want to go back to bed before hitting the road.”
“You don’t feel well?”
Quinn presses a smile. “I think stress from work is catching up with me.”
Mr. Dawson nods and tells Quinn to rest. He invites me to church as well, but won’t pressure me to join. My family’s not religious, and the Dawsons have never pressed. Like Quinn, I make up an excuse, and half an hour later, the house is empty.
Quinn went back to her room and closed the door. I pause outside of it and listen, not wanting to wake her up if she really did go back to sleep. Right as I’m about to knock, the door flies open. Quinn jumps back, startled.
“I was just going to find you.”
“You found me,” I say with a small smile. “We should talk.”
“Yeah. We have a lot to talk about.”
She’s still in her pajamas and her eyes are red as if she’s been crying. We move onto her bed.
“You’re not going to be alone in this,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine. “I want to be there for you. For our baby.”
Quinn nods, biting her lip as she tries not to cry. A moment passes before she’s able to talk. “I know, and I believe you, Archer. But…how?”
“What do you mean?”
“We’re hours apart. You work a lot, and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but it makes it harder to see each other because of the whole we live hours apart thing.”
“I know,” I say, tightening my hold on her hand. “Trust me, I’ve thought about it. I’m in the last year of my residency and will be getting a new job soon. There are lots of hospitals around Chicago.”
“You’d move to Chicago for me?”
“Yes,” I say with no hesitation. “Quinn, I mean it when I say I want to be involved. I’ve always wanted to get married and have kids. It’s happening out of order and sooner than I thought, but this kid is mine too, and I want to be there.”
Tears roll down Quinn’s cheeks. “Sorry,” she says, wiping them away. “I don’t usually cry like this.”
“It’s understandable. Plus, hormones make you emotional.”
“That’s only one thing they make me.” She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “At least I know why I’ve had the sex drive of a teenage boy lately. Is that too much information to tell you? Are we past that now?”
“I think so. And if you need help with your overactive sex drive, I’m more than willing to pitch in.”
Quinn gives me a half smile. “Thanks. I’m already pregnant so…” Her eyes fall shut and she rests her hand on her stomach. “I’m going to have to tell my family. Eventually.”
Tension builds between my shoulders. “I know. We’ll tell them together.”
“I want to get an ultrasound and stuff first. Just to be extra sure.”
She’s putting it off, but I’m okay with that. “Good idea.”
“I’ll call my OB tomorrow. I’m due for an annual anyway.”
“I can come with you to your appointments,” I say, and Quinn just nods. We both know that’s not possible. I can’t take an hour off work to meet her at the doctor’s office. I’m too far away.
“What do we do now?” she asks, pulling her hand out of mine. She starts to braid her hair.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know either.” She leans back on the pillows, dropping her braid over her shoulder. “I’m hungry again. And kind of nauseated at the same time. This is weird.”
“Want me to bring you something?”
“I don’t know what I want. I’ll go look. You can…do whatever you want.”
I want to help her. I want to be with her. And I don’t know what else to do to make her believe me.
“Well,” Quinn says, shifting her weight. She holds her hand up to her face to block the sun and steals a look at the house behind her. It’s a little after noon and I need to leave to make it home on time. I’m on call again tonight and need to try and get some sleep just in case I’m called in. “I’ll let you know when I get an appointment.”
“Okay.” I swallow hard, fighting the urge to grab her and kiss her. I want so fucking badly to tell her I love her, that I’ve loved her for years, and even though having a baby right now wasn’t planned, it’ll be okay because in the end, we were meant to be together.
But if I say all that now, she’ll think I’m only saying it to make her feel better. She’ll think I’m making it up or overexaggerating how I feel in an attempt to show her I really do want this baby.
So I’ll wait.
We have nine months.
“And if you need anything, call me. I’m here, Quinn. Even when I’m not.”
Her eyes well with tears and she shakes her head, annoyed with herself for getting emotional.
“I know,” she says softly and puts her hand over her stomach. “It’s still weird to think about.”
“Yeah, it is.” I step closer and put my hand on top of hers. “We’re going to be okay. All three of us.”
Her lips curve into a small smile. “Better hope it’s not four.”
I laugh. “Or—nope. Not even going to say it.” She flips her hand over and I lace my fingers through hers. We’re in the driveway, right outside the garage, and out of direct line of sight from the house. She puts one hand on my shoulder, fingers pressing into my skin. Her jaw is tight, and she looks right into my eyes. I bend my head down to kiss her, and she looks away.
“Archer,” she says softly. “You don’t have to pretend to want me.”
Her words spur something inside of me, and no amount of self-control can hold me back. I pull my hand from hers, move in, and grab her by the waist. Dipping her back, I kiss her as hard as I did the first time.
“I’m not pretending,” I growl, saying each word slowly and deliberately. “I don’t pretend, Quinn.”
She clings to me, eyes wide and lips parted. “Kiss me again.”
I hold her tight and push my tongue into her mouth, knowing this is a dangerous line to cross. Once I get started, it’s going to be hard to stop.
“Archer,” she moans, running her hand over my chest. I gather my strength and stop kissing her. “This is not helping my issue.”
“What issue?”
“You know, the one I told you about.”
“Oh, right. Sex drive.”
“Yeah.” She licks her lips and puts her other hand on my hip, slowly looping her fingers around my belt. “I am so horny,” she grumbles, looking at me like she wants to devour me. If only she knew how I felt.
“Do you want me to have sex with you?”
“Seriously? Where is the romance?” She shakes her head but hasn’t let go of me yet.
“Well, do you?”
“No,” she says, pushing away. “I don’t.” She crosses her arms and looks me up and down. “Wait, yes, I do. No. No, I don’t.”
I give her a cheeky grin and I’m pretty sure she wants to slap it off my face. And then maybe slap my ass.
“Is that your final answer?”
She bites her lip then lets out a breath. “Maybe.”
“Do you need me to remind you how good we are at sex?”
“I remember. That’s part of what’s making this so hard for me.”
“It’s hard for me too,” I tease, and Quinn’s gaze goes right to my cock. I move away from my Jeep and grab Quinn around the middle, picking her up and pinning her between the driver’s side door and my body. Her arms fasten around my neck and lust surges through me.
She tips her head up and kisses me first, arching her back and pushing her hips into mine. I take my mouth off hers and kiss her neck, trailing my way down over her collarbone. I slip my hand under her t-shirt.
“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” she moans.
“I can spare thirty minutes.”
“Okay.” She takes my hand to lead me back in. “Wait. This is my parents’ house.”
“Shit. Right. Do you think we can sneak in unnoticed?”
“Have you met the dogs?”
I run my hands down her arms and interlock my fingers with hers. “Are you above having sex in the barn?” Her blank stare tells me she is.
She lets out a ragged breath. “What are we doing, Archer?”
“Acting like horny teenagers. That’s how you described your sex drive, isn’t it?”
Pursing her lips, she rolls her eyes. “Yes, those were my words. Thank you for reminding me how ridiculous I’m being.”
“It’s not ridiculous, Quinn,” I say softly. “You can’t deny we’re good in bed together.”
“Being good in bed together is the whole problem,” she replies, making things tense again. “And we…we have bigger things to worry about.” She rests her head against my chest, and being able to hold her and comfort her is almost better than making love to her. Almost.
My heart lurches in my chest, and I hold Quinn tight against me. Of all the things we talked about earlier, all the life-altering changes coming our way, none of it made me as nervous as I feel now. I inhale, ready to just spit it all out and tell her I think we should really give us a shot.
And then the garage door opens, and Quinn and I jump apart. Quinn crosses her arms, angling her body away from mine.
Mrs. Dawson has all four dogs on leashes and struggles to hold them back when they try to go to Quinn. She hurries over, taking Rufus from her mom, saying something to her that I can’t hear over the panting of the dogs.
My heart is in my throat. I don’t want to leave without giving Quinn a kiss goodbye, but I don’t see what other choice I have. Mr. Dawson comes out of the house and takes Rufus from Quinn.
“Drive safe, Archer,” he says and heads down the driveway. Mrs. Dawson and the other three dogs follow, leaving Quinn and I alone. I wait until they’re down by the street to turn back to Quinn, cocky grin on my face.
“So, you want to have sex now?”
Quinn’s nostrils flare and she crosses her arms, eyes drilling into mine. Then she slowly looks me up and down.
“Meet me upstairs.”
She doesn’t have to tell me t
wice.
21
Quinn
The door shuts behind me and I turn around, prepared to tell Archer this is silly. But the second I see the look in his eyes, all the air is sucked out of my lungs.
“Quinn,” he pants, voice heavy with desire. A shiver runs down my spine and his hands land on either side of my waist. “Are you sure you want this?”
Parting my lips, I hook my arms around his neck. “Yes,” I breathe, telling the honest truth. I do want Archer, and I’m not just talking about sex.
I want him to be with me during this pregnancy.
I want him there when I give birth.
I want him to raise this child with me.
I want us. Together.
He wastes no time in kissing me, and I slide my hands down his chest, going right to his belt. His hands go around my back and unhooks my bra.
And then the door opens.
“Motherfucker,” I blurt as Archer and I untangle. The dogs run in ahead of my parents, with Rufus at the rear, limping.
“You should really consider going in and having a specialist look at it,” Archer says, eyes narrowing. He holds my wrist in his hands, thumb gently circling over my pulse-point. It’s too intimate. Too gentle. But for the life of me, I can’t pull away from Archer. “You’ll need a referral.”
“What’s going on?” Mom asks. She’s not accusatory, not at all. But knowing how close we were to getting caught makes me clam up.
“Quinn’s wrist is still hurting,” Archer says, looking into my eyes. “But it won’t forever. It’ll be okay.”
“Right,” I say, knowing he’s not talking about my wrist right now. “It will.”
“And call me if it hurts. At any time.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay.”
“Even if the pain isn’t that bad. You can always call.”
Dawson Family Boxset (Books 1-3) Page 17