Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 393(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
“Look,” I said, blowing out another breath. I took a step backward, calming that anger inside me. “I meant what I said. I don’t want a thing from you. The last thing I need or want is money or material things. They’ve never meant anything to me.” I shrugged, benefits of being raised on the road. “You can sign over your rights to me,” I said. “If that makes you feel better.” Something heavy sank on my chest for the baby at the thought that its father would want nothing to do with it.
The words seemed to sink in because Nixon shifted slightly, the tension in his muscular shoulders loosening a fraction.
“I know that being together for twenty-four hours doesn’t give us a history, Nixon,” I continued when he hadn’t bothered to respond. “But you’re the only man I’ve slept with in over a year, so, yes, it’s yours. And as long as you don’t ever ask that question again, I can forget the other questions.”
Nixon nodded rapidly like I might’ve broken him.
I gave him a saddened once-over—when I found out, I’d been scared, sure, but mostly excited. He clearly was leaning toward suspicion and paranoia.
A soft night breeze rose more chills on my skin, grounding me to the present. “So, I’m going to go,” I said, pointing toward the direction of my apartment. It was only a few blocks down the road, thankfully. “Nice knowing you, Nixon.” I smacked his hard chest, perhaps a bit harder than necessary, and walked past him toward home.
“Wait,” he called after me, and I paused. “Can I have your number?”
I snorted a laugh, glancing upward as if the stars would make sense of what my life had become.
My long-time celebrity crush—Raleigh Raptor Quarterback, Nixon Noble—was asking for my number.
And I was having his goddamn baby.
What kind of romantic comedy had I fallen into?
“Sure,” I said, holding out my palm. He dropped his phone into my hand, and I quickly added myself as a contact. I gave him my cell too and waited for him to do the same. “Are you actually going to use it?” I asked, handing his phone back to him, and taking mine.
He pocketed his, something like devastation coloring his features. “I don’t know yet.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. Fine, fair enough. “Don’t wait too long, Nixon,” I said, turning back around to walk home.
“Or what?” e called to my back, something lighter touching his edged tone.
“Or I might disappear.”
“Wait, what?” He jogged to catch up to me, but I didn’t stop walking.
I shrugged. “I have one semester to complete after my summer courses,” I said. “And once I have my doctorate, I’m heading out. I’ve never put down roots for long. So, if I were you, I’d think long and hard about what, if any, role you want in your kid’s life. No judgment either way,” I assured him despite the weight sinking my chest. I wasn’t moving anywhere for a while—not with the final classes I had to take—but I never let my life be set in concrete. He needed to know that up front. “Just know that I’m not some crazed fan of yours who will wait around forever, hoping you’ll call.”
He stopped in front of me, blocking my path. “You’re saying you don’t want me to call?” Challenge lit his eyes.
I tilted my head before shoving past him, completely done with this day. I’d set out to do the right thing and tell him the truth about the results of our crazy night in Vegas. And he’d insulted me twice. I was beyond done.
So, I glanced over my shoulder, allowing him to see the severity in my eyes. “I’m saying I don’t care either way.”
And I kept on walking, not once looking back.
3
Nixon
“You said what?” Nate barked through my speakers.
“I asked her if it was mine,” I repeated slowly as I turned left onto the street that led to The Barn.
“Holy shit, you can’t ask her that!” he shouted.
“Why the hell not?” I fired back.
“Because you just can’t!” he sputtered. “It’s on the list of shit you’re never allowed to ask a pregnant woman. That’s right up there with ‘are you pregnant?’ Why the hell would you do that?”
“I can think of about thirty-six million reasons, one of which might just be Lila.” I slowed the car as I approached the gate.
“Shit.” My brother sighed so hard I felt it all the way from South Carolina. “I get it. I really do, but Liberty isn’t your ex.”
“Oh, and you got to know her character so well during those twenty-four hours we were in Vegas?” I questioned and waved my access card at the panel. The gate opened before me.
“Fair point. Call your lawyer. Even if she is pregnant and it is yours, you’re going to need him. And as hard as I’m cringing as I say this, you’re going to have to ask her for a paternity test.”