The vibrations in my palm from the same number calling me back jolt me into reality.
This can’t be for real.
I swipe the phone screen to answer the call, anger surging through me.
“I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Abby, but this is a new low, even for you.”
She huffs and then hisses, “I’m telling you the truth. I just found out less than an hour ago.”
My blood turns to ice. This can’t be happening. We only had sex once, in a damn kitchen pantry, and I pretty much pulled out.
Pretty much.
“You took a test?” I demand.
“No, I just guessed. Yes, idiot, I took a test.”
Fuck.
“How do I know it’s mine?”
She snarls from her end. “You think I’m some whore? Screw you, Rhett.”
This time, she’s the one to end the call. For half a second, I’m grateful. But then I realize this isn’t going away. If it is mine, I need to manage the situation. Quietly. And quickly.
I dial her back and grit my teeth as I wait for her to answer. Finally, she does, and sighs heavily as if I’m the nuisance here. She just blew up my fucking life with two words.I’m pregnant.Yet, I’m the annoying one.
“So, the baby’s mine,” I say under my breath, not trusting my voice to carry through the walls at my house. “And you’re sure.” I scrub a palm over my face as panic consumes me. “It’s okay. We can fix this.”
Silence greets me in response.
“Hello?” I grumble. “Did you hang up on me again?”
“No,” she says icily. “I’m wondering what your idea of ‘fixing this’ entails.”
Is she really going to make me say it?
I guess fucking so.
“Get rid of it,” I grit out. “I’ll pay for it. Hell, I’ll even take you to the appointment.”
“I’m not killing our baby,” she says, voice shrill. “Are you insane?”
Ourbaby.
I’m going to throw up.
“I don’t wantourbaby,” I snap as bile burns the back of my throat. “It’s a mistake just like that night in the pantry.”
She scoffs. “Didn’t seem like you thought it was a mistake when you begged me to put my lips around your dick. And you certainly weren’t complaining when you were balls deep inside me.”
My traitorous cock thickens at the memory.
“Trust me,” I growl. “It was the worst mistake of my life.”
I’d been so consumed with lust that the entire sexual encounter now feels like a blur. I don’t even feel like it was me who participated. It was some awful part of myself that momentarily took the steering wheel and drove me straight into a fucking wall.
“I’m keeping it,” she says, fatigue in her words.
