After we left things at the restaurant the other night, the last thing I expected this morning was to receive a call from Lowell asking if he could come over.
I told him no at first because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to deal with the stress of seeing him before my appointment this afternoon, but he insisted on it and eventually I caved. Which is why I’m currently standing in front of my mirror in my third outfit of the morning trying to talk myself out of changing again.
Part of my brain is screaming that I should wear that leather mini skirt I bought two months ago because pretty soon I’m going to be too big to even get it up past my hips, but I know that’s completely impractical.
If it wasn’t for nausea and headaches and hormonal changes, you wouldn’t know I was pregnant. Everything looks the same, though I know that’s not going to be the case in the coming months.
I don’t know how I feel about that yet, seeing my body change like it’s going to. I know some women love being pregnant and love the way their bodies look while others loathe it. I wonder where I’ll fall on the spectrum.
I tuck two rolled-up pairs of socks into my bra, then grab a pillow off my bed and stuff it under my shirt. I check myself out in the mirror, trying to imagine what I’ll look like waddling around with a little human inside of me.
It’ll be…different, that’s for sure. I’m going to look like a whole different person. Hell, I’m going to be a whole different person. That’s hard to reconcile sometimes.
A knock sounds at the door, pulling me from my thoughts.
Shit! Lowell.
My heart rate picks up and my palms start to feel sticky. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t feel this way about the man whose baby I’m carrying, but I do.
I’m nervous because he makes me nervous.
I’m nervous because I have no idea how this conversation is going to go.
I’m just…nervous.
I pull the pillow from my stomach and toss it to the bed before darting for the front door. I take a deep, calming breath, brushing a hand through my hair. When I feel like I’m not going to pass out, I pull it open.
Collecting my breath was a smart move because the moment my eyes land on Lowell, he steals it back. He’s just so…magnetic. I don’t want to be drawn to him. I don’t want him to be north and me to be south.
He’s wearing a simple light gray shirt and a pair of jeans that hug his thighs just a little too well. There’s a baseball cap slung backward on his head, and he’s sporting what looks like a fresh cut on his lip that I want to ask him about.
When I reach those green eyes that make me feel all kinds of things I don’t understand, I find that he’s looking at me with a searching gaze, like he’s looking for any indication I’m going to slam the door in his face.
I won’t…yet.
Instead, I move aside, allowing him to pass. The moment he steps over the threshold, I breathe again.
I close the door behind him, leaning against it because all of a sudden I’m feeling lightheaded. I don’t know if it’s from being close to him or just being plain exhausted, something I am more than not lately.
He looks around the small apartment, and I realize then this place must be laughable compared to wherever he lives. He’s a freaking hockey player. He probably has a mansion…or two.
When he’s done with his perusing, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans and looks at me. His eyes do a slow scroll of my body, starting at my feet, going all the way up. He inspects me closely, not missing a single inch, like he’s looking for any sign that I truly am pregnant. I want to tell him I’m not showing yet, but before I can get the words out, he grins.
“Well, those grew a lot faster than I expected.”
My brows pinch together, and I look down.
Oh god.
My cheeks are on fire as I reach into my bra, pluck the rolled-up socks out, and toss them onto the couch.
“I was…practicing.”
“Having tits?”
I glare at him, pushing off the door and heading into the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Uh, yeah. Vodka if you got it.” I send him a look, and he laughs. “I was kidding. Though a drink does sound good right now. I’m, uh, kind of nervous.”
“You? Mr. NHL Superstar, nervous?”
He grins at the nickname as he takes a seat at the little breakfast nook. “Hockey players do get nervous, you know.”
“Huh. Would have figured you’d be used to the pressure by now.”
“This kind of pressure is a bit different.”
“That’s fair.” I pull open the fridge and reach for the container of orange juice. “I don’t have vodka, but I have mixer.”
“Mixer works too.”
I grab two glasses from the cabinet and pour each of us a cup. It’s funny because I’ve never been a huge orange juice person, but for some reason, it’s almost all I want to drink these days.
I slide a glass Lowell’s way, then return the juice to the fridge before grabbing my own glass and leaning back against the counter.
“Should you be standing?”
My eyes fall to slits. “Fair warning, there are many sharp objects in this kitchen I can stab you with.”
“I will take that into consideration.” He smirks at me over the rim of his orange juice before taking a sip, wincing at the sting of the acidity on the cut in his lip.
“What happened to your face?” I ask.
“Collin.”
I lift my brows, surprised.
“And Rhodes,” he adds.
“Because of…?”
He shifts uncomfortably on the stool, not meeting my eyes when he says, “You.”
Ah. So that’s why he called me up—because Collin and Rhodes made him, not because he actually cares.
“They aren’t why I called, though,” he says like he knew exactly what I was thinking. “I was going to call before they…well…” He motions to his face, then clears his throat. “I just didn’t really know what to say.”
“And now you do?”
“No.” He laughs humorlessly. “Not a damn clue, but I couldn’t just sit by and let you think bad thoughts about me either.”
“I wasn’t thinking bad thoughts about you.”
It’s not a total lie.
Did I think he was a dick for questioning the legitimacy of my accidental pregnancy? Most definitely. But…I also understood. Given the way we met, I’m not entirely sure I can blame him for lashing out during an emotional moment.
He lifts his cap off his head, then scrubs a hand through his deep brown hair before replacing it. He sighs. “I, uh, was engaged before.”
My brows shoot up because this is very much news to me, especially given how much he protested weddings.
“It was several years ago. I was seeing this girl for about eight months, and it was pretty serious, you know.” He shrugs. “I loved her.”
He chugs the rest of his orange juice, then gets up and heads for the sink. He rinses the glass out, sticks it in the dishwasher. I watch him move around my kitchen as if he lives here too, and I’m not sure how I feel about the fact that I don’t exactly hate it.
When he’s finished, he turns to me, resting his back against the counter opposite me. He crosses his arms over his chest, and I do my best to ignore the way his shirt stretches over his muscles as he stares a hole into the floor.
“I proposed when she got pregnant.”
My eyes snap to him, surprised.
Is he…already a father?
“We made the engagement announcement, planned the wedding…the whole thing. I was happy. I was excited. I wanted the wife and the baby and future. Four months.” His lips pull tight, and he shakes his head once before finally looking me in the eye. “It took me four months to learn she was lying.”
The pain in his eyes is so clear, and I have the urge to cross the kitchen and wrap my arms around him. Whoever this woman is, she did a number on him, and it really makes me hate her for hurting him.
“She was never pregnant. She just wanted me to propose and shotgun the wedding so I couldn’t back out. And I bought it, you know? I was so young and stupid and in love that I bought it. I didn’t question a thing. All of her doctor’s appointments were on days I had games, and I never once thought to question it because who actually thinks the person they love is out to screw them over like that?”
He stares at me but not really at me. It’s more like he’s staring through me, like he’s back there in the past and hearing all over again that she lied to him.
He looks so…broken.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” I say quietly, and he snaps out of whatever haze he’s in.
He sniffles a few times, then shakes himself off like he’s shaking off the memories.
“It’s why I assumed the worst about you—because I’ve been there before—but I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have put my past on you like that. I’m the one who’s sorry.”
I nod. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Thank you for not lying.” He narrows his eyes. “Right?”
“I’d say my morning sickness the other night was a pretty good indication that no, I am not lying.”
He nods a few times. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you’re in this situation.”
“I’m sorry, too. I definitely did not plan this.”
He gives a halfhearted chuckle. “I definitely didn’t either.”
I finish off the rest of my orange juice, and he takes the cup from me, rinsing it and placing it in the dishwasher as well. I’m struck again by how comfortable he seems to be in my apartment and how much it doesn’t bother me. Normally if somebody came over here and started acting like this was their place too, I’d be annoyed, but—and maybe it’s because I’m carrying his baby—I don’t feel that way with Lowell.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Tired, nauseous. Like I have to pee a lot. I keep having weird dreams of blonde babies who are babies but also look like old people.” I shudder. “It’s weird.”
I don’t tell him the other recurring dream I’ve been having because it’s about him. I keep dreaming that he offers to pay me a million dollars to take my baby and leave, to never contact him and to never, ever breathe a word of it to anyone. It’s had me waking up crying the last two nights, but I keep that to myself.
He laughs. “And about the baby? How are you feeling about that?”
“Scared,” I say honestly. “Like really, really scared. But also…okay.” He nods like he understands. “And you? How do you feel…about the baby?”
“Scared. Like really, really scared,” he echoes.
I smile because it comforts me that he’s also terrified by this new adventure we got ourselves into.
“When did you find out?”
“Officially? On Monday. Unofficially? Last Friday.”
“How?”
“Hazelnut lattes and egg sandwiches.”
He tips his head, brows drawn together. “Hazelnut lattes and egg sandwiches?”
“Yep. I was sitting at Cup of Joe’s, and the smell of those two things was so overwhelming that I vomited in my laptop bag. Honestly, if it weren’t for the old lady who commented on it, I wouldn’t have thought twice, and I still might not even know today. My period hasn’t been normal for a while because of all the stress with the divorce and everything, and since we used protection, I never even suspected I might be pregnant.”
I feel kind of stupid for not being more in tune with my body or questioning why I hadn’t had a period in months, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.
My phone buzzes against the counter, and I know what it is before I even look. I cross the kitchen to check it and can feel Lowell’s eyes on me the entire time.
“Did you need to take that?” he asks.
I shake my head. “It’s not a phone call, it’s an alarm. I have an appointment.”
“For the baby?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“And you’re going now?” I nod again. He pushes off the counter. “I’m coming with you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“You’re right. I don’t have to—I want to.”
“You…want to be part of this?”
He scowls more deeply than I’ve ever seen him scowl before. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? Of course I want to be part of this. Why wouldn’t I want to be?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. We don’t really know each other all that well. I mean, yeah, we had this connection and shared a night together, but that’s it. It’s not like either of us planned to continue seeing each other past that one night. This…this is different than just bumping into one another after having sex and doing the whole We’ve seen one another nude awkward dance thing.”
“I remember.”
“This isn’t something we just walk away from in the morning, Lowell.”
“I know.”
“This is a baby. This is forever.”
He growls. “I know what it means, Hollis, and I want it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Surer than I’ve ever been in my entire life.”
I try not to let my relief show. As much as I was prepared for the opposite, I was hoping he’d say that.
“Okay. Then we should probably go. My appointment is in an hour.”
“Remind me again why we got here thirty minutes early when our appointment was twenty minutes ago and we’re still waiting?”
Our appointment.
I don’t miss that he says that. The way he’s inserted himself into this makes my stomach flutter, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or bad thing yet.
He drove the exact speed limit on the way here, which drove me nuts. Then he wouldn’t let me out of the truck unless he opened the door, which was also annoying, albeit a little cute.
He insisted on helping me down and carrying my purse. I really wanted to remind him that I’m barely even pregnant and he was being extremely extra, but every time I opened my mouth to say something, I couldn’t get the words out. I think it’s because I’m just relieved he wants to be part of this with me.
I don’t have any crazy notions that we’re suddenly going to be dating and then get married and live happily ever after. That’s not going to happen, and I’m fine with it. But just the fact that he’s here? That he’s not running away or trying to toss money at me to keep quiet about the baby?
Yeah, it makes my stomach flutter for sure.
“I’m sure it’ll just be a few more minutes.”
He shoots me a look that says that’s not likely. “We’ve been here forever.”
“I know, but what can we do about it?”
He huffs, then before I know it, he’s marching across the room.
“Lowell!” I whisper-yell at him, and he ignores me. “Cameron!” I hiss.
This time he turns around, his eyes sparking at the use of his first name before he holds his hand up like he’s trying to calm me. He saunters up to the front desk with just enough cockiness, the kind that isn’t so much that it makes him look douchey. He rests his forearms—the forearms I know look incredible—on the counter and leans across it toward the young nurse sitting there.
“Hey there,” he says to her, using that same voice I’ve heard from him before—slick and silky and all kinds of hot. “I was wondering if you could tell me about how much longer it’s going to be, Josie.”
He puts extra emphasis on her name, laying the charm on thick.
And it works. Red steals up her cheeks, and she bats her lashes up at him.
“Let me just check really quick. What’s the name again?”
“Lowell.” Again, more emphasis on the name. “Was kind of hoping we could get in soon. I have hockey practice in a bit, and…” He trails off, waiting for her to connect the dots.
If the way her eyes sparkle is any indication, she knows just who he is, and I have a feeling we’re about to be next. She turns to the computer, her fingers flying over the keyboard, her mouse clicking rapidly.
And then… “Ah, you’re in luck. The doctor will see you now.”
“Really? Wow. Thank you so much, Josie.”
He sends her that same panty-melting smile he gave me at Harper’s wedding, and I’d bet a hundred dollars that girl’s chair is wet right now.
Lowell waves me over as she rises to buzz us in.
I lift my brows at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, holding the door open for me. “Now let’s go see our baby.”
Our baby.
I don’t miss that he says it.
And I don’t miss the way it makes me feel.
