Donovan (Face-Off Series Book 3)

by Jillian Quinn

  “More like I bring them to their knees,” I say, resolute.

  Kennedy laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “If you had a super power, that would be it.”

  I shrug, unaffected by the mental pain I am causing Carter. “More or less. I think he likes playing the game just as much as I do.”

  “You might end up losing him if you don’t give in a little bit. Carter is also Tyler’s best friend, and I’d like to avoid any awkwardness that your pretend romance will end up causing in the future.”

  “Just because you’re ready to walk down the aisle with Tyler doesn’t mean I want that for myself, K. I am having too much fun with Carter to stop. You have no idea what it’s like to see a man like him grovel and beg. It’s so sexy. He will be rewarded in time, and I will make it worth his wait.”

  “Look, all I’m saying is that you should ease up on him. If you like him, you should give him a real shot, maybe let him take you out on a date. I know for a fact he would kill for the opportunity to take you anywhere you want. You could tell him you want to eat dinner in Paris and Carter would have a flight booked ten minutes later. Trust me, girl, this one is boyfriend material. Think about it.”

  Her last few remarks take me by surprise. When we’re together, Carter acts as though he only wants to use me for sex. We have some weird shit going for us right now, and it’s working. Why mess up a good thing if we don’t have to?

  “Fine. I will consider it.” I slide my chair out from the table and stand, pushing my breasts back into the tight black top that leaves nothing to the imagination.

  These babies have a mind of their own. Carter loves my tits. I wore this shirt special for Carter, in hopes I would see him after I have my quality time with Kennedy.

  “I need some coffee. Do you want a refill?”

  Staring down at her empty mug, Kennedy nods. “Yeah. I’ll have a nonfat caramel macchiato and a piece of chocolate cake.”

  “Be right back.”

  I stroll over to the front counter in five-inch heels that accentuate my long legs in a skirt so short and tight it had taken me ten minutes this morning to get into it. Good luck getting this thing off, Carter.

  Kennedy goes back to typing up the article she was working on before I showed up, completely immersing herself once again.

  “Oh, hello, darling,” I say to the teenage boy behind the register. Well, maybe he’s in college, but he sure as hell looks like a kid. I place our order, all while trying to keep his attention from lingering. With his eyes fixed on my breasts, he types the wrong drink into the computer.

  This sort of thing happens all the time. One thing I hate about having big boobs is the attention I get from them. I’m always left wondering if a guy likes me for me, or if he’s only checking out my rack because he wants to take them out for a test drive. And incidents like having my order messed up because he can’t keep his eyes where they belong happen more often than I can count. Men are such idiots sometimes. Well, no, most of the time, which is why they need strong women to keep them in check.

  A few minutes later, the boy has my drinks ready and on a tray. He steps out from behind the counter, through a door off to the side, balancing two coffee mugs and plates of chocolate cake on his palm. I grew up with excessive wealth. We had nannies, drivers, maids, and butlers who did everything for us. They still do. But I no longer frequent my childhood home unless summoned by my parents.

  I had grown accustomed to this lifestyle as a kid, but the longer I am away from the Carroway Estate, the more I see all the things wrong with how my parents continue to live. Kennedy had a very similar childhood, with a father who worked non-stop and a mother who checked out after childbirth. Kennedy thinks I still live in my own little bubble of opulence, but it lost its appeal a long time ago.

  “Thank you, darling.” I shoot the young boy a wicked grin.

  He sets our drinks and food on the table, ignoring Kennedy and checking out my ass as I take a seat. “Any time,” he mutters, afraid to make eye contact with me, despite having the nerve to ogle the rest of my body, as if I didn’t notice.

  The boy must be a student at Strickland University, and since we’re on the campus and sitting in their coffee shop, I can only assume he goes to school here. I thank him again before he leaves our table.

  Kennedy lifts her fork and digs into the cake, devouring each bite. “This is so good,” she mutters as she chews with her mouth full and chocolate that is now stuck to her teeth.

  “I’m breaking my no carb diet since every time I see you now is a celebration.” I cut a tiny piece of my cake and look down at it, the disappointment I feel probably registering all over my face.

  I work out between writing sprints and sex games with Carter. The last thing I want to do is ruin all the days of busting my ass and eating low fat dinners, but this is a special day. I need to keep my body in fuck buddy shape for lover boy. At some point, I will give into Carter, and all bets will be off. When that day comes, I want my shit tight.

  Holding the fork to my lips, I stuff the chocolate in my mouth and moan. “Mmm…It has been months since my last pastry. You are a bad influence, K.”

  This cake tastes like heaven mixed with a lot of sin. I will have to make my peace with it later because once I start eating, I cannot control myself. Shoveling the food in my mouth, like this is my last meal, I finish in record timing and set my fork down on my plate. As always, Kennedy is done before me, washing down the food with what is left of her coffee. I swear she doesn’t chew her food before she swallows.

  After Kennedy drinks the rest of her coffee, she presses her palm to her stomach, a sick look on her face. With how fast she ate, I would not be surprised if she were ready to hurl up that cake. Grasping the edge of the table, she pushes her chair out and comes to a standing, her balance a little off.

  She bends forward, pressing a hand to her mouth as if she’s trying to get things under control.

  I peek at her from beneath my lashes. “Are you okay, babe? You don’t look so hot.”

  She shakes her head, looking as if she hopes she can make it to the restroom. “No, I think I am going to be sick. I guess I ate too fast or something.”

  Before I can get in another word, Kennedy runs toward the back of the café and pushes open the ladies room door. I start to worry after a few minutes pass. Kennedy was so pale before she walked away with beads of sweat dotting her forehead and the I have to puke expression on her face.

  I gather our things from the chair back and shove Kennedy’s laptop, notepad, and miscellaneous items into her messenger bag. Slinging the bags over my shoulder, I head toward the bathroom, forcing my way into the bathroom and past two girls who are hogging up the mirror.

  I spot Kennedy’s feet, with her red-soled Louboutin’s we bought together last season, pressed into the dirty tile. At first, I think of what sacrilege she’s committing, a real crime against designer shoes, until I listen to her spilling the contents of her stomach. It’s as if the goddamn Exorcist is in there with her.

  The girls fixing their hair in the mirror make gagging sounds, rolling their eyes in disgust before they exit. Not like she wants or needs an audience when she’s dry heaving over a disgusting public toilet.

  “You okay, K?” My voice fills the quiet room. I have no idea how to help her now that she’s finished with losing her lunch.

  “Syd, my stuff is out at the table. I’ll be fine just go keep an eye on things.” She flushes the toilet and unlocks the first stall, still inside and speaking to me through the door.

  “I’ve got you covered,” I say, confident. “Do you need me to hold your hair or anything?”

  “Nope. I’m good. Thanks.” Her voice is so raspy and raw that I bet her throat hurts when she speaks.

  When Kennedy opens the door, I’m waiting for her on the other side with my back pressed against the wall, our purses dangling from my arm and her laptop bag slung over my shoulder.

  “What about our table?” She asks bu
t looks as though she could care less at this point.

  “I let a group of girls have it. We need to get you back to my place stat.”

  Kennedy walks over to the sink, slaps some water on her face, and washes her hands, staring into the mirror in horror. Her skin has a yellowish tint, and I’m sure she’s thinking about how she looks like fucking death.

  “That was so weird,” I say, adjusting the strap on my shoulder, laughing. “One minute you were fine, and the next you turned into the Exorcist.”

  And why am I laughing? What the fuck is wrong with me? My friend just puked up her guts, apparently sick from something, and I’m getting a kick out of it. I must be losing my damn mind. Ever since I met Carter, I am going batshit crazy.

  She cups her hands together and fills them with water to splash on her face one last time. “Shut up. It’s not funny. I just hurled up everything I have eaten for the last day, and I am not in the mood right now.”

  I lift a strand of blonde hair from her face and push it behind her ear. “Did you eat something bad this morning?”

  “No, the cake is the first thing I have eaten all day. Tyler had a workout with his trainer this morning, and I forgot to eat since he wasn’t around.”

  “You’re not…” I bite down on my bottom lip, unsure why I am even drawing this conclusion. But there’s the what if lingering in the back of my head.

  I don’t even have to finish the thought before Kennedy realizes where I was going with this conversation.

  “No.” Her tone lacks confidence. “Tyler and I stopped using condoms a while ago, but I am on birth control. It’s…no—”

  “Babe, it’s okay if you are preggers. You’re both adults.” I run my hand down her back to soothe her except this talk seems to be putting her more on edge.

  “I’m telling you, Syd, there’s no way I am pregnant.”

  “Because you are on birth control? While it may be super useful most of the time, it can fail.”

  Taking her purse from my arm, she slips it onto her forearm and reaches inside to retrieve the empty birth control pill packet. When she opens the pack, one last pill in the row above the sugar pills is left. Did she mix them up with the real medicine?

  “Fuck,” she mutters to herself under my breath.

  I take the pills from her hand, feigning a smile for her benefit that she sees right through. “You will be okay. No matter what, I am here for you and Tyler will be as well.”

  “I have to call Tyler,” she tells me as we exit the restroom. “He is going to freak out.”

  “Maybe not. For all you know, Tyler wants kids. Besides, you could be fine.”

  I take the lead, keeping my fingers crossed for Kennedy as we stroll through the café and out the front door in complete silence. This cannot be happening. Saying a silent prayer for Kennedy, I keep my thoughts and words to myself and hold out hope that we can resolve this with a pregnancy test. I hope the odds work in her favor; otherwise, I will be an aunt and Kennedy…a mom. The idea both excites and terrifies me at the same time. So, I can only imagine how Kennedy feels right now.

  On our way to my apartment, we stopped by the pharmacy and bought three pregnancy tests—because one did not feel like enough at the time. You can never have enough when you’re in crisis mode. What if one is wrong? We need to be sure before Kennedy runs back home to have a talk with Tyler. Either way, she has to tell him, which kind of sucks, because he might end up going ballistic.

  As I unbox all three tests, Kennedy waits on the toilet for me to hand them over. I insisted I do this with her, regardless of how awkward it is for me to stand here as I give her the sticks. She needs me now more than ever. Because what if she’s pregnant?

  Kennedy pees on each stick and sets them on the counter next to her. I cannot even imagine how afraid and scared she must be for both Tyler and her and what effect it might have on their relationship as we wait for the results.

  Kennedy holds her breath, sinking her elbows into her thighs and glancing over at me as we wait for the tests to change color. This is the longest three minutes of both of our lives. Now, I want to vomit. But I need to give Kennedy some words of encouragement to calm her down.

  “It’s going to be okay, babe.” I sit on the floor next to her and rub my hand down her forearm. “No matter what the tests say, you have Tyler and me. You have your family. We will all be here to support you. If it’s Tyler you’re worried about, he’s a grown man who can handle it.”

  “We haven’t been together long enough for us to be thinking about having children.” She shakes her head, frustrated and irritated with herself. “As much as we have sex, we were running through condoms every other day, and with my irregular periods, I was already on the pill, so I didn’t think anything of it. I never mess up like this. How did I not see that I was taking the wrong pills?”

  “You didn’t mess up. It was an accident.” I sigh, taking her hand in mine and give it a squeeze. “Let’s just wait and see what the sticks tell us before you go beating yourself up over missing a pill. It happens to plenty of people.”

  Digging her fingers into her hair, she stares at me, making me wish I had the answer. She always comes to me for the answers. Not like I’m any kind of expert. I usually know the right things to say, but even I am having a hard time with this situation. A baby would change everything.

  “One more minute,” I say, glancing down at the cell phone in my trembling hand.

  “I cannot believe this is happening,” Kennedy says more to myself than to me. “I am so fucking stupid. How could I swap them out without noticing? I’ve been taking the same pills for years. My schedule is like clockwork. I wake up, grab my medicine, brush my teeth—”

  “Stop dwelling on it,” I say, trying to snap her out of one of her self-loathing rants. When she does that, I get so pissed. She should believe in herself a lot more than she does. “There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

  “I finished the sugar pills days ago and hadn’t even noticed I still had one left. How? Was I half asleep when I took them? Probably,” she says, answering her own question.

  The alarm on my phone beeps, causing my heart to pound out from my chest with each ring. I shut it off and pull myself to my feet, using the edge of the vanity for support.

  “I’m afraid to look,” she tells me. “You have to do it for me.”

  Kennedy watches me, most likely praying for a sign of relief. But I am not sure how to feel about the results. Part of me is happy, the other part sad. I am in charge of delivering the biggest news.

  How will she handle it? Is she ready to be a mom? Am I ready to become an aunt? Can I even help her care for a baby? I sure hope so. This is a significant step for all of us.

  The corners of my mouth pull up into a happy smile as I turn to face her, hoping she won’t have a stroke. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I am going to be an aunt, and I am so damn excited about it.”

  I think I am. It’s too soon for me to process this information. My best friend is going to be a mother. All of this feels so surreal.

  “I’m pregnant!” She shoots up from the toilet seat to check out the tests for herself. All of them have two lines, indicating that Kennedy is having Tyler’s baby.

  I think a small part of her is excited. After their first sexual encounter, Tyler had a fit and threw Kennedy out of his house. I quickly learned that Tyler has a bit of a temper and a mean streak. So, I hope he doesn’t do the same when Kennedy tells him the news.

  I wrap my arms around Kennedy and snuggle my cheek against her, the scent of vomit still on her breath. At the very least, I should have her brush her teeth before she goes home. “You’re going to be a mom, K. This is so exciting.”

  I want to be happy, and I am to some extent. But I have trouble being enthused about the situation without knowing how Tyler will respond. She left the house this morning as his girlfriend, and now she’s the mother of his child. Talk about going from baby steps to crossing the Gra
nd Canyon in one day. And they haven’t been together long enough to know if they can make this work. I have legitimate concerns, so I know Kennedy’s are a thousand times worse.

  “How do I tell Tyler?” She stutters the words, her nerves getting the best of her.

  I take a step back from Kennedy, holding her at an arm’s-length and staring into her eyes. “You tell Tyler he’s going to be a father, and if he has a problem with it, he will have to deal with me.” My smile reaches up to her eyes, and it must be contagious because Kennedy finally joins in. I guess my words provoked a reaction from her. About damn time.

  For the first time in over an hour, she’s smiling. No matter the outcome of her conversation with Tyler, it does not change the fact that she is having his child. He will have to suck it up and learn how to deal with a baby. Kennedy is strong and can make it work with his hockey schedule, her paper, our blog, and a baby though I suppose she will have to cut down on some of those things once she has a screaming child to take care of.

  “I guess I better get home.” She slips away from my grasp, throwing her hands onto her hips as she stares down at her stomach. “What will I look like a few months from now? With the way I eat, I will end up being the size of a house, and Tyler will be repulsed by me.”

  I shake my head and then brush a loose curl behind my ear. “I can see you already, glowing and gorgeous and the cutest mother to ever rock Chanel.”

  “There’s no way I’ll fit into Chanel in a few months. The last time I checked, they don’t sell maternity clothes.”

  “Hey, they have a maternity wedding gown. I’m sure we can find you some maternity clothes to go along with it.”

  “Oh, God. Now you’re freaking me out. Wedding gowns, babies, this is all too much at one time.”

  “Just focus on my little niece or nephew that is cooking inside your belly, and I will worry about you being the best dressed baby mama this city has ever seen.”