Page 94
People keep squeezing past us in both directions, carrying shopping bags and drinks and laughing like everything’s just great in the world while mine’s falling apart.
The two women at the wallet booth are still watching us, although one of them at least has the decency to pretend she’s looking at a display now.
I wipe my damp palm against my skirt. It’s hot out here, but the sweat gathering along the back of my neck has nothing to do with the weather anymore.
“It was before I was supposed to ovulate.”
Grant gives me a look. “Supposed to isn’t for sure.”
I don’t answer.
Because I know.
I’ve read enough pregnancy forums and fertility articles over the last year to know sperm can hang around for days. I also know an app telling me I’d ovulate Saturday doesn’t mean that’s when it actually happened.
My heart starts beating harder. And faster.
Ellie shifts closer until her arm presses against mine. “Goldie?”
I put my hand over my belly without thinking, my fingers spreading across the roundness under my crop top.
No.
Sumner’s been there for every appointment. He knows which foods suddenly make me gag and which side I have to sleep on when my hip starts hurting. There’s baby shit showing up at the house because he keeps finding things we “might need,” and half the time I wake up with his hand on my stomach like even unconscious Sumner needs to check that we’re both still there.
He’s this baby’s dad.
My fingers spread tighter over my belly. “Sumner is the father.”
Grant’s gaze drops to my hand. “Sumner?”
“My boyfriend.”
Something flickers across his face at that, but I can’t even begin to give a shit what it is.
“And you know he’s the father because...what? You have a feeling?”
My chest pulls tight.
Ellie steps forward. “You need to back the hell off, Grant.”
Grant doesn’t look at her. He keeps his eyes on me, and I can see from his expression that he knows he finally found the one thing he could say today that I can’t immediately tell him to shove up his ass.
Because right now, I don’t know.
And that scares the shit out of me.
Heat rushes into my face, and for a second the fear gets shoved aside by how badly I want to tell him to go fuck himself.
Grant studies my face. “So the thing with the new guy is serious.”
“Very.”
His gaze flicks over my face, then down to my stomach again. “That was fast.”
I actually laugh because the audacity is fucking incredible. “You were faster. I think you made it less than twenty-four hours from talking about starting a family with me to fucking your bartender in our bed.”
One of the women at the wallet booth gasps from somewhere behind him.
