"What's going on with you?" I ask, softer this time.
Wren takes a deep breath, squares her shoulders, and meets my eyes directly. "I'm pregnant."
Two words. Just two fucking words, and my entire world tilts sideways.
Yup, I knew I’d be getting a new tattoo.
"You're..." My brain checks all the way out while I try to process what she's just said. "With a..."
"Baby. Yes." Her voice is steady, but her hands are trembling slightly at her sides. "I’m approximately eight weeks along. Which means?—"
"Vegas," I finish for her, my voice barely audible.
Suddenly I'm thrown back there, to the sheets tangled around our bodies, to her skin slick and sweaty against mine, the taste of whiskey and insanity on both of our tongues. Did we use protection? I thought we did, at least the first time. But after that, when we moved to the jacuzzi tub, then back to the bed...
"Are you sure?" I ask, even though I know it's a stupid question. Wren Callan wouldn’t come to me unless she was one hundred percent.
"Blood test confirmed." She doesn't elaborate further, just watches my reaction.
I need to move. I need to do something with the burst of adrenaline coursing through my body. I pace to the small fridge, pull out a water bottle, then change my mind and close the door without taking anything, moving to the bar instead.
I need a fucking beer.
My mind is racing, spinning through implications and possibilities faster than I can track them.
A baby. With Wren. My wife.Christ.
"Say something," she says finally, her voice holding an edge of vulnerability I've never heard from her before.
I turn to face her and I just stare at her. No words will come. They just… aren’t there.
She’s the woman who’s driven me to drink since the day I met her. And now she’s my wife, my secret obsession, andapparently the mother of my child. I don’t know how to handle this, but I do know I can't get enough air.
And why the fuck is it so hot in here?
"I'll support you," I say, the words tumbling out. "Whatever you decide. If you want to keep it, I'm all in. If you don't..." The thought is like a knife between the ribs, but I push through. "It's your choice. But I'm here."
She can’t hide the surprise on her face and I don’t know whether to laugh or be pissed off at how she sees me. What kind of guy does she think I am?
"I haven't decided yet," she admits. "But I thought you should know."
"Thank you." The words feel inadequate, but I mean every one of them. "For telling me."
Holyfuck.
An awkward silence stretches between us. There's too much to say and no easy way to say any of it. I move back to my table, needing to do something with my hands.
"I talked to Dr. Walker," she continues. "He confirmed everything."
My head snaps up. "Reed? My Reed?"
"He's the best OB/GYN in Portland," she says defensively. "And I got an emergency appointment because I mentioned knowing Clover."
"Does she know?" Panic surges through me at the thought of my sister finding out about this mess from someone other than me.
"No." Wren shakes her head. "No one knows except Dr. Walker. And now you."
Relief washes over me, followed immediately by a strange possessiveness. This is our secret. Our baby.
