Truth be told, I had bigger things to worry about than Clara finding out. She was the one person in my life who’d probably judge me the least for the predicament I’d found myself in.
I’d called the doctor’s office as soon as they opened this morning. They could squeeze me in tomorrow afternoon, which gave me just over twenty-four hours to write down every question I could think of—and I had plenty.
How does all of this work?
When does the morning sickness stop?
Is this why my boobs have been so sore lately?
The list kept growing with every passing thought. I wasn’t only about to be a first-time mom, I was about to be asinglefirst-time mom.
It took a while for it to sink in after Liam left last night, but once it did, the tears came fast and heavy. I cried myself to sleep, thinking about all the things most moms would have help with that I wouldn’t.
Who would cut the umbilical cord? Who would be there to hold my hand when I went into labor? Who would drive me to the hospital if my water broke? I didn’t have that person—and I had nobody to blame but myself.
This was what I got for sleeping with my brother’s best friend. He wasn’t the man we all thought he was, and I should’ve known better than to believe he ever would be. Sure, we’d grown up around each other, but we were still practically strangers.
I could usually handle whatever life threw at me by laughing it off and believing that, in the end, everything would work itself out. But this was the curve ball I never saw coming.
The soft thud of Clara’s shoes grew louder as she got closer. I straightened up, grabbed the piping bag, and acted like nothing was wrong. When she stepped through the doorway, I gave her my best pretend smile.
“Cut the show, sister. You’re not fooling me. What’s wrong?” she said, catching me off guard.
“Nothing,” I said, watching her carefully.
“Normally you’re out there talking to every single customer who walks in. You’re the biggest social butterfly I know. But today, you’ve been hiding back here all morning, pretending to decorate this cake, and every time I check, you’ve barely made any progress. So I’ll ask again. What’s wrong?”
Damn, she was good. That was why I liked working with her so much.
Most days. Today it was biting me in the ass.
I contemplated my options. Of course, I could lie and say I wasn’t feeling well, but that lie would only work for so long—and I’d look like a jerk. Clara was like family to me. I owed her the truth.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, honey, that’s amazing,” she said, her face lighting up. “Wait… by who?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“Well, that’s the thing…” I rubbed the back of my neck.
“Please don’t tell me it’s that guy who took you to the movies a couple months ago and made you pay for half of everything,” she said.
“No, it’s not him.”
“Is it that guy last year who told you you’d look prettier if you got a nose job?” she asked, looking downright terrified.
“No, it’s not him either.”
“Then who is it? Spill the beans already.”
“It’s Liam.”
“Liam Carson?”
I laughed nervously. “That’s the one.”
“Does he know?”
“That’s where it gets hairy,” I said, wringing my hands. “I told him last night, as soon as I found out—and he flipped. He took off after telling me he wasn’t ready to be a dad.”
