For a split second I let my mind wander to consider my options, but as quickly as the painful thought enters my mind, I know in my heart it’s not an option. It never has been. I look down at the two little pink lines, and suddenly they don’t seem that bad. Scary as hell? Definitely. But I’ll find a way to handle it. I made my bed on the floor of that dark and dirty storage shed, and now I intend to lie in it.
Alone this time. Alone and fully clothed.
The creak of the bathroom door opening yanks me from my thoughts.
I recognize our receptionist’s soft voice. “Kelley, are you in here?”
I quickly stash the plastic stick I’m still holding into my purse with the others. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec.”
“OK, I’ll tell Mr. Burton. The broker for that building across town is here to go over terms of the potential contracts so he’s looking for you.”
Shit. I forgot we had that meeting this afternoon. I stand in the small stall and take a deep breath before grabbing my bag and unlatching the door. I breeze over to the sink and wash my hands. “I just have to grab my files from my desk. I’ll be right there.”
I smile a calm, collected smile as Gemma nods and scurries back out into the hall.
I wipe my hands on the hand towel before catching my own reflection in the mirror. Almost automatically, I lift my arm to brush a hand across my stomach.
Well, kid, I hope you’re comfortable in there, ‘cause there is no way I’m letting you go. We’re kind of stuck with each other.
After dropping my bag in my office and grabbing my folder labeled Grind I head toward the conference room down the hall. Our client, Caleb Jones, is hoping to open a coffee house across town, but the men in charge of leasing the spot he wants are being difficult. They say they have a lot of offers on the place, but we convinced them to come and hear us out. My boss, Scott Burton, is already seated across from another man as I glide into the seat next to him, trying not to draw too much attention to the fact I’m late. Or growing a tiny human.
Thankfully they’re still making small talk so I have a minute to organize my papers and thoughts. I’ve done a lot of work to help Caleb, and I refuse to let my recent revelation distract me from my job. Up until recently I’ve focused mainly on our residential accounts, so I’m grateful Mr. Burton has been letting me learn about the commercial side of things. As both a real estate broker and an attorney, he already has more work than he can handle, and, since I passed my own broker’s license exam to become an associate six months ago, he’s been giving me a lot more responsibility in general. I can only imagine how thrilled he’ll be when he finds out about my current situation. As if I didn’t already have enough to worry about . . .
“Mr. Andrews, we can’t thank you enough for agreeing to sit with us today. This is my associate, Kelley Brooks.” My boss gestures toward me and the stodgy looking man across the conference table nods at the introduction.
Just as I get ready to launch into my spiel about why Grind would be such a great addition to the area, the opening of the conference room door catches everyone’s attention. When I see who walks through, I nearly hurl again.
Ryan fuck-me-on-the-floor Blake.
“Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare.” He reaches out to shake Scott’s hand. “Mr. Burton.” And then he gets a cocky, damn delicious grin on his face as he nods my way. “Ms. Brooks. Good to see you again.”
I stare blankly in response while he sits next to Mr. Andrews, adjusting his tie as he settles in. Mr. Andrews explains, “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Ryan here to consult on this with me. He’s familiar with the legal aspects of our client’s real estate dealings so I thought he could be a valuable asset.”
My boss follows up with, “No problem at all. We’re just getting started. Actually, Ryan, Kelley was just about to go over some of the details.”
Ryan eyes me with an intrigued expression. “Great. Can’t wait to hear it.”
Suddenly I can’t remember anything I was about to say. I’m not ready to deal with this thing inside me, and him all at the same time, but he’s a friggin’ walking, talking reminder. I didn’t know he had anything to do with this meeting, and to say I’m caught off guard is the understatement of the year. It’s like I think he will somehow know I’m pregnant just by looking at me, but the way he—and everyone else—stares at me obliviously, I realize I have to get it together.
I clear my throat and force myself to focus on the notes in front of me. “Well, as noted in Mr. Jones’ letter of intent, we think Grind will offer something new for this location. It’s not another cold, corporate coffee chain, but a neighborhood place with a deep respect for quality. And while independent coffee shops equal twelve billion dollars in annual sales, it’s more than just numbers. Caleb is committed to offering a one-of-a-kind experience that we think people will really respond to. Rather than an impersonal place, Grind will be a local institution that will benefit the entire town.”
I smile confidently, making sure to keep my focus on Mr. Andrews rather than the distracting man next to him.
Mr. Andrews looks impressed, and just when I think I’ve got him on the hook, Ryan interjects. “If I may, we have no doubt that Mr. Jones here is proposing a promising idea, but our client does want to make sure that he can get someone to commit for the long haul. He’s asking for at least a five-year lease, which is a big commitment for any new business. We just want to make sure Grind is sustainable and won’t be some passing fad.”
He leans back and shrugs with an adorable tilt of his head. The man is good.
Oh my god, he’s a lawyer. A good one. Think he’ll try to fight me for custody?
Good god, my hormones are already out of control. What the hell? Focus, Kell. He doesn’t even know about the kid yet—probably won’t want anything to do with it anyway—and he basically just tried to shut you down on this deal. Smug bastard.
I sit up straighter. “Considering fifty percent of Americans drink an average of two to three cups of coffee per day, suffice it to say I don’t think this is just a fad. Unless you think one hundred and fifty million people are suddenly going to decide to stop caffeinating, I think Caleb is a pretty safe bet. He already has a lot of local support, and, as we noted in the letter, he is more than willing to commit to a five-year lease given there’s no escalation clause.”
I cross my arms casually and give him my own superior look.
Maybe I won’t even tell him I’m pregnant. Should I tell him? I guess he maybe sort of has a right to know, even if I don’t expect anything from him . . .
He just smiles, unaffected. “Very true, Ms. Moore. Looks like someone certainly knows how to fight for her client. It’s good to know you believe so strongly in him.” His blue eyes stay trained on me, bright and amused.
Will the baby have his eyes?
Damn it all to hell. How am I ever going to survive the next nine months if I can’t even get through one stupid meeting? I haven’t had time to process what’s happening in the first place, let alone what role Ryan will play in it . . . anatomically or otherwise.
Thankfully Mr. Andrews breaks the silence by tapping his fingers on the table, flipping through the packet we put together which includes the Grind business plan. “We certainly have a lot of great information to bring back to our client. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it today, but business has him traveling. Ryan and I will discuss it with him, though, and let you know as soon as he makes a decision.”
Mr. Burton gets up to shake hands with Mr. Andrews and Ryan, and I politely stand and nod my goodbyes in their direction, using the large conference table as a buffer. I’m afraid if I’m in close proximity to Ryan I’ll be intoxicated by his usual delicious scent, and I need a clear head right now. I noticed him subtly chewing a piece of gum when he spoke earlier. I bet that’s why he always smells—and tastes—like cinnamon.
Once the two men leave the room I mumble some sort of grateful response to my boss’ encouragements, then
head back to my office as fast as I possibly can.
I round the corner to my doorway and am almost knocked flat on my ass as I come face to face with Ryan.
Startled, I blurt out, “What are you doing here?”
He hooks his thumb to the side, pointing toward the direction we just came from. “Didn’t we go over this? I’m consulting for Mr. Andrews.”
I walk to stand on the other side of my desk, needing to put as much distance between us as possible. “I know that, but what are you doing here, in my office?”
He casually puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. “I wanted to say hi.”
I stare at him, feeling suspicious and confused. “Hi.”
He grins back. “Hey.”
The way he looks at me in such an easygoing, unaware way weakens my defenses. Poor guy has no idea my uterus is growing something with half his DNA right this very minute as we stand here making small talk. At first I feel sorry for him, but that’s quickly replaced by a wave of sickness. I need to sit down.
I plop myself down, resting my elbows on the desk and my chin in my hands as Ryan sits back comfortably in one of the armchairs sitting across from my desk. “So, how’ve you been?”
Before I can take a minute to compose an appropriate thought, I hear myself blurt out, “Pregnant, and you?”
Way to rip the Band-Aid off, Kell.
The look on Ryan’s face is priceless. If I weren’t too busy silently freaking myself out, I’d take a picture.
He barely blinks as he stares at me, almost through me, and his relaxed smile morphs to a confused scowl before his entire face goes blank. His Adam's apple bobs slowly. I’m pretty sure he swallows his gum.
He sits completely still for a good thirty seconds. I furrow my brow as I grow legitimately concerned.
Emotion finally returns to his features as his eyes focus back on me, although he still looks pale. “I’m sorry, what?”
I let out a deep breath before gesturing first at my stomach, then between us. “Pregnant. You know . . . me . . . you . . . storage shed . . .” I glance off to the side, avoiding eye contact as I trail off. I can feel my cheeks turn pink and a flush spread across my face as I recall our reckless romp.
Ryan pinches his eyes shut before taking his own deep breath. “But we . . . are you sure?”
Without saying anything, I remain remarkably calm as I push myself up from my chair and walk over to the office door. I shut it before sauntering back over to my desk where I pull out my purse. I unzip the gold zipper and unceremoniously dump the hoard of plastic sticks onto the smooth wood before sinking back into my chair.
Again, Ryan’s face is priceless.
He stares at the pile of pregnancy tests. He lifts his arm as if he might reach out for one, but then drops it back down and looks uncomfortably around the room. He gets up, rubbing the back of his neck before looking back at me. “Are you sure it’s mine?”
“Unless this thing has been cooking for seven years, then yes, I’m sure it’s yours.” I answer dryly. I hate to say it, but I am in no way surprised by his reaction. I am, however, a bit offended since I’m pretty sure we exhausted the fact I’m not the type to sleep around. Does he think I turned into some kind of nympho after our night together?
He looks at me apologetically before glancing subtly to the side, avoiding my eyes. “Are you going to keep it?” he asks in a soft yet honest voice.
I slink down in my chair a little further, leaning my head back against the soft leather. I subconsciously choose to rest my arms protectively across my stomach, fingers linked. I know this situation is completely different than what happened with Jake, so I try my best not to take out my anger and hurt on Ryan, no matter how much I feel the familiar sting. I knew going in that we would never have any type of relationship, and this baby isn’t going to change that.
“Yes. But I want you to know I don’t expect anything from you. I just thought you had a right to know.”
Ryan starts to pace, although the small room doesn’t allow for much maneuvering. As soon as he reaches one wall he only has to take about two steps to turn around and reach the other. Step. Step. Turn. Step. Step. Turn. Without stopping, he pulls a packet of gum out of his pocket and pops two pieces in his mouth, chewing rapidly.
“How long have you known?”
I glance at the clock. “About an hour.”
“When are you due?” Step, step, turn.
“Not sure yet.”
He picks up his pace, which makes me dizzy. “Have you been to the doctor?” Before I even have a chance to respond, “Does anyone else know? Do you eat salmon? I heard somewhere pregnant women should eat salmon or some shit. Fuck, where do you buy diapers?” Step-step-turn-step-step-turn-step-step-turn.
He continues to mumble incoherent ramblings about vitamins and Volvos. I almost find his panic adorable, but the more he goes on the more I can tell he really is losing his shit, something that clearly doesn’t happen often. Maybe it’s my maternal instinct kicking in, but I have to resist the urge to hold him close and run my hands down his back until he calms down. I interrupt him instead by stretching my hands on top of the desk. “Blake, can you please stop pacing, it’s making me nauseous.” He stops dead in his tracks, but I can tell his mind is still racing. “Look, I don’t know what the hell to do either, but freaking out isn’t going to do either of us any good. Chill for a second. I mean it when I say I don’t expect anything from you. There’s no reason this should mess up both of our lives.”
He seems to take my advice about calming down since he leans forward to grip the back of the armchair, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. When he reopens them a moment later he’s back to calm, cool, and collected Ryan.
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He pushes himself off the chair and puts his hands in his pockets. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”
I sigh. “You and me both.”
He softens his eyes before asking, “How do you feel?” His words, while sincere, sound raw, like he himself is surprised to have asked such a personal question. Yes, we’ve talked in depth about our sex lives, but somehow this seems more intimate. The way he looks at me with such intensity makes me believe he’s genuinely interested to know the truth—and that he’s asking about more than my physical state—but then again he’s probably just being polite. I am, after all, carrying his spawn.
“I’m fine. I mean, I’m not fine, but I will be. This wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but I’ll figure it out.”
“And you really think you’re going to do it on your own?”
Something about the tone of his voice makes me feel defensive. “Of course, why wouldn’t I? Neither of us planned for this to happen, and I’ve known from the beginning what kind of guy you are. I’m not going to try and trap you or anything.” I act as nonchalant as possible, really hoping the fact that I’m actually scared shitless doesn’t show through.
He cocks his eyebrow and pins me with an unforgiving stare. “And exactly what kind of guy am I? The asshole kind that will abandon his own fucking kid?”
Crap. In my attempt to let him off the hook I’ve obviously made him angry.
“Come on Blake, I don’t see it like that. But I know you aren’t interested in any sort of commitment, and even if you were, we both know we’re not right for each other. We had one night. That’s all it was supposed to be. That’s all it was.” Wasn’t it?
I see his jaw tense and it looks like he’s trying real hard not to lose it. When he speaks, his voice is level and measured. “I’m not going to walk away, Kelley. This is for both of us to deal with, not just you.”
His forceful determination should feel threatening, but honestly I find it comforting. I also know it won’t change anything. Even if he is going to stick around for the baby, it’s certainly not to be with me, and I don’t know how to make that work. It’s one thing to accept I’ll be a single mother who got knocked up after a one-night stand. It’s another to believe we’re some
kind of family.
I slump back in my chair, exhausted from trying to deal with all of this at once. “Let’s not make any decisions now. I mean I haven’t even been to the doctor yet. I’ll make an appointment and we’ll see what happens after that, OK? There’s nothing we can do this second anyway so let’s both just get back to work.”
Ryan must be just as emotionally spent, because he agrees without any further argument, although he makes me promise to let him know when the appointment is so he can clear his calendar. I’m too drained to protest.
Before he leaves he asks one more time how I’m feeling, and I again assure him I’m fine.
I’m about to have a child with a guy who is not only NOT the one, but not even my husband or boyfriend. Hell, he’s barely even a friend. I’m friggin’ fan-fucking-tastic.
Ryan
Five Weeks
“Dude, you look like you haven’t slept in days. If I didn’t know better I’d say you must be in love or some shit.”
“Fuck off.”
Except Lucas is right. About the sleeping part, that is. I’ve barely slept for the past week. Every time I shut my damn eyes all I can see is the fear in Kelley’s. If anyone happened to be listening in on our conversation last week, it might have sounded like she had her shit together about everything, but I could tell she’s terrified and unsure. I would never leave her to deal with this alone, but fuck if I’m not just as unsure about being a dad. How in the hell am I going to do this?
It’s bad enough I’m the only person she let into her pants in seven fucking years, but then the goddamned condom had to go and break. Fuck, I’m never having sex again.
Whoa, OK, let’s not be rash. Next time at least make sure the girl is on the pill, just in case.
Mad Addiction (Crazy Beautiful #2) Page 3
