“I need to call Tyler. It’s only fair for me to give him the same choice.”
The urge to argue the point is strong, but I hold back. I understand her reasoning. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
She tries to pull her legs away, but I trap her in place with my forearm. “Whoa. Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get my phone from the kitchen so I can call him.”
“Gravity, remember? I’ll get it for you.”
I reluctantly let her go long enough for me to grab herphone from the island and place it in the palm of her hand. When I take a seat again, I slide in closer this time.
I can’t help but laugh when I see the nickname she’s given him in her list of contacts. “Runaway Groom?”
“The alternative wasn’t as nice.”
She draws in a long breath through her nose and lets it out, then she calls him. It rings twice before Tyler answers. It’s muffled, but I’m still close enough to hear everything he’s saying.
“Hey, Ange. Is this where I get to say I told you so?”
“I’m pregnant.” She blurts it out with all the ceremony of a contestant on a game show.
“Is it mine?” he asks in a disturbing monotone.
My hands fist and unfurl against my thighs as I fight to contain my anger. This piece of shit never fucking deserved her—that much has been abundantly clear for years—but the callous way he’s speaking to her now has my hackles rising.
Angie’s voice never falters. “I don’t know.”
There’s movement on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a door closing. Tyler scoffs. “Then why the fuck are you calling me? Don’t you have a husband you can call?”
Her fingers twist in the tassels of a pillow, the only outward sign of distress. “I have an ultrasound on Tuesday. We should know more then. Do you want to come?”
“I’m good. Do whatever you want.”
“You don’t want to know?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“And if it is?” she asks. “Yours, I mean?”
“Let’s just hope it’s not.”
And with that, the line goes dead.
Angie stares at the blank screen for the longest minute of my life. Just when I think she’s about to say something, her phone drops to the rug, and her hands cradle her belly.
She folds herself in half and vomits into the bowl.
I run my palm up Angie’s back, making soothing patterns along her spine. If she didn’t need me right now, I’d hop in my truck and beat the ever-loving shit out of Tyler for the way he responded to the news that he might be a fucking father. His reaction only fortified my resolve.
They’re mine. No matter what the ultrasound says.
Chapter 15
Right Where He Wants To Be
? Your Everything - Keith Urban
Angelina
