Page 36 of Trials of a One Night Stand
“Yes.” I want to tell her there’s no rush, but it’s not like I’m here for a social visit or any reason other than to know if she’s pregnant with my baby.
My baby.
Holy shit. I never thought I’d think those two words together, especially in this situation with a woman who ignores my calls and messages. I get the case is important to her, but I really like her. Or liked her. I’m not ready for another bout of unrequited love. Zelda cured me of that.
Jayne hasn’t moved. She’s hesitating. I’m sure this isn’t what she thought would happen either after our night together, and no matter how she feels about me right now, I need to stay calm and keep her from freaking out. That might help me from losing it too.
“Hey, I know this is a lot.” I try to keep my tone light while my heart’s pounding in my chest. “Do the test, and we’ll go from there.”
“Should I wait in the bathroom?” Her voice trembles, and I see the woman beneath the professional clothing and top-notch litigator demeanor.
I fight the urge to open my arms, wrap them around Jayne, and pull her against me. That would only complicate things. My ego’s bruised from the way she’s so casually ghosted me with all the messages I’ve left on her work voicemail. I get the professional concerns. I have them, too, and respect how hard she’s trying to do the right thing for her profession. But would it really hurt for her to give me her personal number? Not to use now, but for later. Again, I do understand she could get in trouble, but it’s just a fucking cell phone number. Seven digits. Ten if you include the area code.
And I do get it.
When it comes to the trial, she’s the enemy, and I’m hers. But when you look beyond the case, there’s so much more.
When it comes to bed partners, she’d be my number one pick. And if the test’s positive…
I realize she’s waiting for my reply. I swallow. “Whatever makes you most comfortable.”
Biting her lip, she sets her briefcase on the floor by a nondescript loveseat, goes into the bathroom, and closes the door.
I blow out a breath, not sure if I should call out support. Cheering seems a bit much. How hard is it to pee on a stick? Of course, the result of said urination could change our lives forever.
Fuck.
A baby.
My baby.
Harlowe and Willow come to mind. My nieces mean everything to me. I love them and would do anything for them. Honest, I would. But babies are hard work. I’ve experienced that firsthand. They get sick too often, hurt too easily and hardly ever do what you want them to do…
Fuck.
And Chloe had issues with her pregnancy. Jules is having them now. Women die from childbirth, and there’s often nothing to stop that from happening. It’s just…life.
As I consider Jayne, something in my chest shifts.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I remember my poor excuse for parents. They liked the idea of having children rather than the actual raising of them. Ashton is nothing like them with his daughters, so I’m not destined to repeat Mom and Dad’s mistakes with us. At least in theory.
Please don’t be positive.
The four words become my mantra. If I keep thinking them, maybe that’ll be the outcome.
Not pregnant. Jayne can’t be pregnant.
Mano always talks about speaking things into existence, but I wouldn’t want Jayne to overhear me, so I only mouth the words. Over and over again.
That does nothing to calm the way my stomach twists into a helix. I need to move.
I pace back and forth, which only ramps up my nerves. I could sit, but if I had a black light handy, I’m sure I’d find all kinds of bodily fluids left behind by past room guests on the couch. Yes, you can know too much about science for one’s comfort level. At least the bedding is presumably washed and changed.
I stare at the closed bathroom door. Jayne’s been in there for a hot minute.
How long will it take?
