Chapter One
Twolittle, pink lines are supposed to be a joyous thing. They're coveted by manyand impossible for too many. Yet, staring at my own two bright, pink lines,felt so unnatural, as the bottom of my stomach dropped out and my heart racedrapidly toward nausea.
Iknew they were supposed to be a joyous, wonderful, and celebrated thing, butinstead, these lines had now put me on a bar stool in the middle of New YorkCity, staring blankly into my untouched glass of water and wishing itwassomething stronger.
Justtwo days ago, I’d gone from those two pink lines, to a phone call with a doctorI didn’t know, to book today’s blood test. It seemed perfectly reasonable thata stick I had peed on could be telling me lies, and blood seemed much morelikely to tell the truth. So, I had found myself sitting in a doctor's examroom, nervously waiting on myresultsand hoping thatthe pregnancy test had been wrong. And it wasn't that I was necessarily againsthaving a baby. I really wasn't. But when I thought about it,reallythought about it, I couldn't decide that a baby would really fit into my life.
Ihad rented a one-bedroom apartment only one year ago.
Ihad only recently begun to make reliable money, in my temperamental career asan independent romance author.
Ihad just spent two nights straight wondering if I really wanted to be withBrendan.
AndI continuously thought aboutall ofthose very crucialdetails, as I sat on the exam room table, swinging my legs and biting my nails,failing to find a suitable place for a baby to slip into.
But,let'snot get ahead of yourself, Kenny, I thought, nodding withsolid determination.You don'tfeelpregnant. You can't even pinpointthe exact moment when you would've gotten pregnant in the first place. Youcould be worrying yourself to death for absolutely nothing, so chill. Just.Chill.
Exceptit hadn't been nothing, as Dr. Ferdinand so enthusiastically declared, as heburst back into the room wearing a proud grin.
“Kendall,”he'd said, “you should probably make an appointment with your OB/GYN.”
“Why?”I asked, unsure whether the cluelessness I was feigning and holding onto hadbeen convincing. “Am I due for a pap smear?”
Theman who I had only just met chuckled. “You’re a funny one, you know that?”
“That’snews to me.”
Hechuckled again, leaning forward in his rollingstooland patting my knee playfully. “You’re silly,” he declared, continuing tolaugh. “Andyou're having a baby!”
You'rehaving a baby.
Ishuddered now over my water glass. Those four words still felt so damning, likea life sentence to a prison cell full of diapers and bottles and burpingcloths.
Atthe time, the room had swayed and my face blanched, as Dr. Ferdinand led methrough my options: keep the baby, get rid of it, or give it up.
I'dnearly laughed in his face at that word,options.
Noneof them felt like options at all.
Noneof them felt right.
Noneofthisfelt right.
AllI really wanted to do was go back to whenever it had happened and take it allback. I wanted to tell Brendan to be more careful. I wanted to tell him not tohave sex with me that night at all, whatever night it was. But unless thedoctor had a timemachinehe could lend me, going backwasn't one of my options, and I was so mad about that.
Ihadn’t asked for this. Especially not now. And although I knew the part I’dplayed in the conception of this baby, I wasn't the one who had done somethingdifferently. I wasn't the one with the essence to make it happen. I—
“Youlook like you could use something a lot stronger than what you're drinking.”
Thebooming voice sliced through the damning thoughts and recollections cyclingaround my worried mind. I lifted my head, taking my gaze from the untouchedwater to the eyes of a Viking. He was enormous, but not in the way you'd findintimidating. A gentle giant, with a soft look in his eyes and an enviable headof reddish-blond hair. Shaggy and purposely messy without looking unkempt. AndI knew I shouldn’t have found him so attractive. I knew he shouldn’t haveimmediately caused my heart to skip a few beats. Especially not when I had onlyjust found out I was carrying my boyfriend’s baby. But I couldn’t help that hewas, in fact, attractive, or the sudden, erratic pause of my beating heart.
“Thatwould be lovely,” I replied sardonically, hoping he couldn’t sense thejittering in my chest. “Except I just found out I'mknockedup,so… I can't.”
“Itake it congratulations aren't in order.” His eyes swept over my slumpedposture and ensemble of yoga pants and my most comfortable sweatshirt.
“Let'sjust say it wasn't planned,” I replied, my tone dry.
Hehummed thoughtfully as he nodded and tapped beefy fingers against the bar,buffed to a brilliant shine. “Well, I can't do much about that.But,what Icando is, get you a virgin cocktailthat'll make you forget how badly you want the booze. How does that sound?”
