Okaaaaay. I could get really angry over that statement, but I thought about that same thing. Coming from him, though, it makes me wonder if he’s accusing me of something. “I was. At the time, I was. It’s not 100 percent—”
“I know.” I watch as Nate slides his hands into the front pockets of his trousers. He’s looking down. “I went to the doctor.”
I know what he’s going to say next. That he or she told Nate that his swimmers are working just fine. So, I ask to be sure, “And your vasectomy didn’t stick?”
Nate snorts, or maybe it’s a scoff. Yeah, with him it’s a scoff. “No. It definitely didn’t stick.”
So now what? I’m speechless, that’s for sure. Until the phone rings again. “Bloom’s.” It’s all I can seem to say. I’m still staring at Nate as the man on the phone rambles on about flowers for his wife of fifty years. I have to shake off whatever I’m feeling so I can help this sweet man. “Oh. Hang on one second. Let me get my order pad.”
As soon as I’ve written the order, I hang up the phone and place my hands on the counter. I’ve got something to say. Or ask, I guess. “So, what does this mean?”
“What does what mean?” Obtuse asshole.
“What happens after you learn this baby is yours?” I place my hand over my stomach.
“Let’s cross that bridge—”
“You’re such an asshole,” I spit, because, damn it, I’m angry. “I haven’t been with anyone else.”
“Look.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I believe you.”
I glare at him.
“I really do. But I need to do this. As soon as it’s safe—”
“We can do it anytime. It’s just a blood test.”
“Oh.” Why do I get the feeling he was hoping he had more time?
“I’ll set something up for next week. Can I get a phone number?”
“Right.” He pulls his phone from an inside pocket of his suit coat.
Oh, shit.Why is that sexy?
“Why don’t you give me your number, and I’ll send you a text from mine.”
I don’t argue. I need to get back to work, so I recite my phone number. I hear a ding from the back room and know it’s his text message.
“Is there a day or time that works best for you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Just give me a day or two notice and I can make it work.”
“Fine.” Just then, the phone rings. I pick it up without giving Nate Black any more of my time. I’m over this. Him. “Bloom’s. How can I help you?” I look up and see Nate heading toward the door. He turns and raises his hand in a weird kind of wave. I half expect a little smile from him, but that doesn’t happen. Not with that cranky prick.
8
Nate
That went betterthan I expected.
What was I expecting? Well, I pictured her throwing a heavy glass vase at my head for one. In another scenario, she threw her arms around me and kissed me senseless, but that one was way too far-fetched. Yeah, the glass vase at my head was what I anticipated.
But that’s not what happened. Sure, she wasn’t happy to see me. Not in the least. But she wasn’t shocked to find out my vasectomy failed. It makes sense. I believe her—when she said she hadn’t slept with anyone else—
I’m such a fucking idiot. Inevergo bare. Ever. Thinking back on that night, I remember everything. The third time, the last time we did it, she was bent over the back of my sofa. Goddamn, she was beautiful. The condoms were in my nightstand drawer. I could have paused and grabbed one, but I wanted, no, I needed to feel her around me without the rubber. When she said she was on birth control and we both admitted that we were clean, well, that’s all it took for me to slide in.
Just recalling that night, that moment, makes my dick come to life.
