The ultrasound has been loomingover me like a shadow for the past week. I’ve thought of little else leading up to it, and the added anxiety is doing absolutely nothing to help with the nausea.
A loud knock sounds at the door as I hop to pull on my jeans. They’re tighter than usual, and the button doesn’t want to close.
“Heya, Darlin’.” Griffin flashes a sickeningly sweet smile as he deposits a drink tray onto the kitchen island. He looks damn good in a pair of Wranglers that hug his thick, muscular thighs in the most delicious way, and one of his usual blue button-downs.
I glance up at his messy bun, and a far-off memory hits me. “Give me your hair tie.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” I hold out my hand and flap my fingers. “Gimme.”
His wavy hair tumbles around his shoulders as he pulls on the elastic. It should be illegal to be this hot.
Officer, it’s this one right here.
I take the black band and wrap it around the button of my jeans before threading it through the opposite loop and securing them together. It’s a little trick Jess showed me when she was pregnant with Emmy.
“Huh. Impressive.” Griffin turns his attention back to breakfast. The scent of something sweet permeates the air right before I get a hit of coffee. He opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.
“Caffeine first. Talk later.”
He grimaces.
“Griffin Hayes, if you tell me that’s decaf, I’m gonna rip you a new one.”
He carefully slides a takeout cup across the counter. “Take mine. I’d much rather keep the old one.”
I quirk an eyebrow as I bring the cup to my lips. The sweet caramel hits my tongue first, followed by brown sugar and a hint of bitterness. “Since when do you drink brown sugar caramel macchiato?”
His mouth tips into a sexy smirk. “I don’t. I was just fucking with you.”
“You should know better than to mess with a woman’s caffeine.”
“That’s what Liv said when I was picking up the order.”
“I knew I liked her.”
He rifles through a Rosie’s Diner takeout bag and sets two containers on the counter. “I got a western omelet or buttermilk waffles. Take your pick.”
My stomach protests the very idea of food, but I have toget something down. I slide onto the stool at the counter and dig into the omelet. It’s delicious, but I only manage to get a few bites down before it threatens to resurface. I dash across the hallway to the bathroom, and loud footsteps follow me there as I crash to my knees and heave what little I’ve eaten into the toilet.
His gentle hands gather my hair, and goose bumps skitter across my overheated skin. As he holds it away from my face, his other hand runs up and down my back. “No omelets then.”
“I think it’s just food in general at this point.” My voice echoes out of the toilet bowl. It would be funny if it weren’t so humiliating.
“Olivia used to suck on peppermints for the nausea.”
A sad smile blooms across my face. “That’s exactly what Jess would’ve said. When she was pregnant with Emmy, she constantly smelled like peppermint.” I wait a few minutes before I decide it’s safe to move. “You can let me go now.”
Griffin releases my hair and steps into the hallway while I clean myself up.
After putting away the leftovers, he leads me out to his truck. All of my nerve endings are firing on overdrive as reality sets in. In less than an hour, I’ll know for sure who the father of my baby is. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s Tyler. He didn’t outright say he wanted nothing to do with it, but the sentiment—or lack thereof—was abundantly clear.
The leather seat creaks as Griffin leans over me from the driver’s side. I draw in a sharp breath and hold it. His warm amber scent washes over me as his lips hover barely an inch away from mine. I have the fleeting thought that he might kiss me, but he pulls back slowly, and my seatbelt clicks into place.
Griffin silently backs out of my driveway like he didn’t set my panties on fire. I’m pretty sure pregnancy is making me exponentially hornier. It’s probably one of the perks when you’re actually with someone who can fulfill those needs, butthe only committed relationship I’m in is the one with my showerhead, shotgun wedding notwithstanding.
My knee bounces against the seat as I fidget with the radio.
