I haven’t cried since Harper’s wedding in July, a little thing I’ve been immensely proud of considering how stressful everything has been in my life.
But today? Today I feel like I want to cry, and it’s all because I just had to get out of my apartment and try working somewhere else for the day.
The moment I walked into the cute little coffee shop I found a couple of weeks ago, I knew it was a bad idea. The smell in here is…ugh, it’s awful today, and it’s making my stomach turn like crazy. It usually smells like a sweet, delicious baked good, a big reason I come here.
Not today.
Today, the coffee smells burnt, the hazelnut syrup is making me gag, and if I have to smell one more heated-up egg sandwich, I really may hurl.
I clutch my stomach, willing myself not to puke. I just have a bit more left to finish writing, and after that I’m golden and can take the weekend and Monday off.
It’s one of the things I love about content writing—the flexibility. I also love being able to pick up and work anywhere I want. It made packing up my entire life and moving across the state after the divorce a whole lot easier to do.
Leaving my mother and trying to get her to understand that I was going to be just fine on my own? Well, that was a whole different story.
My stomach protests again and I press my hand against it, hoping to calm it down. I close my eyes, sucking in a few deep breaths so I don’t hurl in the middle of the shop.
Come on, Hollis. Just half an hour longer. You got this.
My phone buzzes against the table, and I’m embarrassed by the way I rush to check it.
I deflate when I see it’s just my mom calling for the fifth time today even though she knows I’m working. I send her call to voicemail and wait for my phone to light up with an angry two-minute-long message.
I don’t know why I expected it to be anyone different. It’s always just my mom calling, no matter how badly I want it to be someone else.
It’s silly for many reasons. One, I never gave him my number. And two, I shouldn’t want him to call.
I knew the score the minute I asked Lowell to take me to bed. It was a one-time thing. That was it. So me waking up disappointed by the cold spot next to me the following morning is my own fault.
Him not contacting me is probably for the best. I mean, he is my brother-in-law’s teammate. Getting involved with him—again—wouldn’t be the best decision. I think I’m all tapped out on bad decisions lately.
“Welcome to Cup of Joe’s! What can I get you today?”
“I’ll have a hazelnut latte, and then I’ll take an egg—”
I reach for whatever is nearest to me—which just happens to be my laptop bag—and I lose all the contents of my stomach. I groan, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I reach blindly for a napkin off my table and use it to wipe my sweaty forehead.
What the hell is wrong with me?
This is the second time this week I’ve thrown up. First, it was from bad leftover pizza—something I never believed was a thing until I saw it splattered in the toilet. Now, judging by the noodles in the bottom of my laptop bag, it’s the Chinese food I had delivered last night.
“Ugh,” I grumble, tossing the napkin into the now ruined bag and sitting back against the booth I’m sitting in. “Great. Just what I needed.”
“Are you all right?” someone asks from beside me.
I wave a hand, not really paying attention to them as I close my eyes and suck in a few deep, steadying breaths because my stomach is turning again.
I don’t know how long I sit like that, but I’m interrupted by a sweet old voice.
“Here you are, dear.” I peel my eyes open to find a woman who looks about sixty holding a cup of water out to me. “Drink this. It’ll help.”
I reach for the cup and gulp it down without question. My stomach rumbles again as the water hits it, but it doesn’t take long for it to settle back down.
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out, my throat hurting from the puking. “And I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed.”
“It’s all right, dear. We’ve all been there before.”
“We’ve all puked in public before?”
“Well, most of us mothers have. It’s really no big deal.”
Mothers? What is she talking about?
“I’m not a mother.”
“Oh, sorry. I thought…” She waves a wrinkly hand. “Well, never mind what I thought. It’s not important. Do you need another glass of water?”
“Actually, that would be great, thank you. I don’t think I can stand the smell of walking through the place.”
She purses her lips like she wants to say something, then shakes her head, thinking better of it. She takes the cup from my hands and makes her way back up to the counter for a refill.
Mothers? I shake my head. Does the old bat think I’m pregnant? Do I look pregnant? I know I ate a lot of Chinese last night, but I’m not pregnant. That’s not—
“Oh fuck.”
“Pardon?” the old woman says, setting a new cup of water on the table.
“I…”
I have to go.
I have to go now.
I rise from the booth so fast water sloshes out of the cup. I don’t even care that it almost hits my laptop. I’m too busy freaking the fuck out.
“Thank you so much for your help,” I say to the old woman as I pack up. I toss my laptop bag into the trash, then gather up the rest of my things, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “But I have to go.”
“Go? Are you sure you’re in a condition to go, dear?”
No. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you again. And sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m—”
I don’t hear the rest of her words.
I’m already out the door, flying down the sidewalk to the nearest drugstore. I go immediately to the family care aisle and grab no less than six kits. As a last-minute decision, I grab a bag of Solo cups and head for the bathroom.
I don’t even bother paying for anything. I’ll do that after. I am way too freaked out to wait around for someone to ring these up. I need to know now.
I rip them all open, along with the cups, and hover over the toilet, willing myself to pee.
After I dip every single stick, I wait.
And watch.
And wait.
And watch.
And wait.
And finally…I cry.
I cry because not one, not two, but all six tests say the same thing.
I’m pregnant.
“I’m preg—”
The word gets stuck in my throat, and I swallow it down.
Once. Twice.
I run my tongue over my lips and try one more time.
“I’m pregn—”
It gets stuck again.
It’s the same thing that’s been happening for the last three days since I took those tests. After I cried in the bathroom of the drugstore for twenty minutes, I paid for the tests and grabbed three more just to be sure, then took them home and did it all over again. The results were the same on every single one.
Just like the results were the same this morning when I heard back from my doctor.
“Congratulations, Ms. Kelly, you’re pregnant.”
I threw up in her office at her words. She wasn’t too happy about that, or the fact that I was already nine weeks along and didn’t have a clue.
After I explained that I’ve always had erratic periods and have been under a lot of stress since my divorce, she understood. She asked if I was going to tell my ex-husband about the baby.
I laughed until I cried.
Then I puked again.
I still can’t believe it.
How the hell did this happen?
I mean, I know how. I just…how?!
We used protection. I know we used protection. I literally watched him roll the condom on.
But maybe something happened. I mean, we were going at it pretty hard. Maybe it broke and neither one of us realized it. Maybe it’s all my fault because I genuinely can’t remember the last time I took my birth control pill because I’ve been too distracted by everything else going on in my life.
Maybe…
No.
I’m going to drive myself crazy thinking of all the different scenarios. None of them will change the outcome.
“I’m pregnant.”
I blow out a stuttered breath, completely shocked to my core. I just got divorced three months ago, and the first guy I sleep with—completely on a whim—gets me pregnant. What the hell did I do in my past life to deserve this kind of karma?
I rest my head against my steering wheel only to jump in surprise when the horn blares. Well, if Harper didn’t know I was here before, she definitely knows now.
Just seconds later, the front door opens, and she stands there, staring at me, perplexed as to why I’m just sitting in my car, beeping my horn. What she doesn’t know is that I’m sitting in my car beeping my horn because I’m terrified to walk in there and tell her I’m pregnant…with Lowell’s baby.
I’m mostly terrified because she has no idea we slept together.
Just then, Emilia’s car pulls into Harper’s driveway, and she waves excitedly at me. I don’t even have the heart to wave back.
I asked Harper if we could have a girls’ day today at her house. Figured I might as well let them know the consequences of my actions together rather than having to repeat it over and over again. Mostly because I’m not sure I can.
I gather my purse and my confidence and step out of my car just as Emilia exits hers.
She claps her hands. “I am so excited about today. I need a break before all those smelly stinky boys start coming back to the rink in a few weeks.”
Just thinking about the rink and hockey players has me wanting to toss up my breakfast.
Or maybe that’s just the morning sickness.
Either way, I hold my hand to my stomach, trying to push the feeling down. It’s something I’ve been catching myself doing a lot over the last few days, touching my stomach.
There’s a baby inside me. I’m growing human life.
It’s not that I never thought I would have a baby or a family. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want those things with Thad once upon a time. In fact, I had our whole life planned out pretty much from the start.
We’d get married and it would be just us for a few years so we could navigate life as newlyweds together without the extra stress of starting a family. Then, when I turned thirty, I’d stop taking my birth control and we’d start trying. We’d have been together for eight years at that point. We’d be ready.
What I never planned on was him cheating on me and throwing everything away.
Now I’m divorced, single, and pregnant by a man that I hardly know. I have no idea how Lowell is going to react at all.
Will he be upset? Will he deny that the baby is his? Will he step up and help me raise it? Do I want him to help me raise a kid? Will he even want the baby?
Do I want the baby?
The moment the question crosses my mind, I know the answer.
Yes. I want this baby even if Lowell doesn’t. Even if he doesn’t want to be part of this child’s life, I’m okay with that. I can take care of it on my own. I’m strong and independent and I—
Oh god, I’m crying again.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Emilia says in a soothing voice, pulling me into her arms. “What’s going on?”
“It’s… It’s… I-I’m…”
But the words don’t come.
“Shhh. It’s okay. Let’s go inside and get some wine in you. That will make you feel better.”
That makes me cry even harder because I can’t have wine and she doesn’t even know that.
We slip into the house, past Harper, who shoots me a concerned look full of so many questions. Emilia steers me to the living room and plops me down on the couch, handing me a box of tissues and a pillow as she takes a seat next to me to console me.
“I’ll grab the wine,” Harper says, heading for the kitchen.
“Stop!”
The word comes out harsher than expected, and she halts in her tracks.
“Stop? Is everything okay? I…” She trails off when I start shaking my head.
“No, nothing is okay.”
Harper swallows thickly, then glances over at Emilia, who just shrugs.
“Can you sit?” I ask her.
She slowly lowers herself to the couch across from us. “I’m… You’re… You’re scaring me, Hollis. What’s going on?”
I suck in several deep breaths before finally gathering the courage to meet my sister’s curious gaze. When I do, I have a feeling she already knows what I’m about to say to her.
“I’m pregnant.”
Emilia gasps next to me.
But not Harper. She doesn’t react.
I don’t think I like that she doesn’t react.
“Shut up!” Emilia says, jostling me. “You’re lying.”
I turn to her. “I wish I were.”
“How? When? Is it”—she shudders—“Thad’s?”
“No.”
She blows out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank god. Dodged that bullet.” The light bulb goes off for her. “Well, if it’s not Thad, then who?”
I slide my eyes over to Harper.
“Lowell,” she says quietly.
I swallow harshly just hearing his name.
“It is, isn’t it?” Harper pushes.
When I nod, Emilia gasps again.
“W-W-What?” she sputters. “How! Where! When!”
“My wedding,” Harper answers for her.
I nod again.
“That’s where you disappeared to?” Emilia slaps at my shoulder. “You lied to me! You said you went back to your room because you weren’t feeling well and thought you had come down with something.”
“More like came down on something—some dick.”
I burst into laughter at Harper’s blunt words, and it’s exactly what I needed. I laugh and laugh until my laughter turns to tears once again.
I don’t know how long it takes me to stop crying, but when I do, there’s a tissue in my hand courtesy of Emilia, and I dry my eyes.
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m kind of a hormonal wreck right now.”
“Don’t apologize. This is kind of a life-changing situation right here.”
I laugh sardonically. “You can say that again.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, I’m sure I’ll probably cry some more, but after that, I’m not sure.”
Emilia laughs. “No, I mean, with the baby. Are you going to…”
“Yes,” I answer her unasked question. “I’m keeping it no matter what.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile because we all know my life is about to change entirely. Hell, my life already has changed entirely. Since the moment those tests in the drugstore bathroom came back positive, I’ve known nothing will ever be the same again.
“What happened? I thought you two weren’t getting along,” Emilia says.
I think back to the wedding that now seems so long ago—probably because I feel like I’ve lived three lifetimes over the last three days—and frown. My problems that day seem so silly compared to this.
“We weren’t. Then we were. And then we really were.” I shrug. “You know how weddings go—they make you horny and you do stupid things.”
“Ha. You can say that again.” She doesn’t elaborate, but I’m sure it has to do with her mystery man who may or may not be a hockey player. “So, are you two like dating now?”
I shake my head. “No. It was just a one-time thing.”
“He is kind of known for that.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Ignore that.”
She has nothing to be sorry for. Based on the way he slipped out of my room so easily, I kind of figured it wasn’t his first time leaving a naked woman alone in a bed.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, though I don’t exactly feel fine. It worries me that Lowell might not take the news of the pregnancy very well.
“I, uh, hate to be the one to ask, but have you told Lowell yet?” Harper asks like she’s reading my mind.
“Not yet.”
“Tell him what?”
We all jump at the sudden sound of Collin’s voice.
He’s standing in the kitchen, staring out at us with his hands on his hips, watchful eyes darting between the three of us. He’s breathing hard, one earbud still in his ear, sweaty and gross like he just got done running ten miles, and hell, he probably did.
None of us speak up, so he says, “What are you telling Lowell?”
“That he’s got a nice ass!” Emilia blurts out in a panic.
It’s pointless. Collin isn’t stupid. He knows he just walked in on a serious conversation.
“Did he do something?”
“What? No! Well, yes, kind of.”
His brows inch closer together. “I’ll kill him.” He spins on his heel like he’s going to murder him right this instant, and I lurch from the couch.
“Stop!”
“No. If he hurt you or upset you, I’m killing him. Harper, where’s our shovel?”
“It’s in the garage.”
“Harper!” I yell at her, rushing into the kitchen after him.
She shrugs. “Sorry, just reflex.”
“Collin, stop. You can’t kill him.”
“And why the hell not?”
“Because I’m pregnant!”
He stops, eyes wide. “You’re pregnant? What does that have to do with Lo…” It takes a moment for him to work it out, but when it clicks, his brows slam together once more. “You’re pregnant and you’re saying the baby is Lowell’s?”
I place my hand over my belly. “Yes.”
“The wedding?”
“Yes.”
“I see.” He nods a few times, then claps his hands together. “Well, now I’m really killing him.”
“Collin!” Harper admonishes this time.
“What? You can’t expect me to not murder him! He’s an idiot and took advantage of your sister when she was vulnerable and knocked her up. He needs his head smashed in for that!”
He’s wrong and right.
He’s wrong because Lowell didn’t take advantage of me. Hell, I was the one who kissed him back. I was the one who told him I didn’t need a friend. I was the one who asked him to make a bad decision with me.
I try not to laugh at that because this was really not the bad decision I was talking about. I just meant sex, a one-night stand that would make being around each other a little awkward and uncomfortable because we’d seen each other naked.
I didn’t mean a get me pregnant kind of bad decision.
“You can’t kill him yet. He doesn’t even know. Let’s at least see how he reacts before we commit to several years in prison.” Harper tries to reason with her husband, going over to kiss him on the cheek to calm him down.
It works.
“Fine,” Collin concedes. “But if that fucker so much as reacts any differently than complete and utter fucking joy, he’s dead.”
That doesn’t sound fair at all, but I don’t tell him that. I’m sure the last thing he is expecting is to hear from me, and I bet he’s really not expecting what I’m going to have to tell him. If he reacts with anything other than complete shock, I’ll be surprised.
I just hope he doesn’t completely turn me away. I’ve had enough life-changing news this week.
“When are you telling him?” Collin asks.
“I, uh, was going to tell him tonight.”
“Okay. That’s probably best. We’re about to head into preseason soon, and…” He trails off.
Right. Because Lowell is a professional hockey player.
I’m pregnant, and the father is an NHL superstar.
I did not have this on my bingo card at all.
I nod. “I know. I’ll tell him.”
“Good.” He shakes his head, muttering something I can’t quite understand, but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing good about Lowell and this whole situation. He points down the hall. “I’m going to go take a shower, let you girls finish your little hormone fest.” He presses a quick kiss to Harper’s head, then takes off down the hall.
“Uh, hey, Collin?”
He turns back around. “Yeah?”
“Do you think I could get Lowell’s number?”
He blinks once. Twice. Then drops his head, shaking it.
“So fucking dead.”
