Sunlight beat through my closed eyelids, sending a spike of pain through my skull. I turned away from the bright, offending light with a low, miserable groan.

Slowly, I managed to peel one eye open to take in my surroundings. Panic at the unfamiliar room crashed over me like a wave for a few seconds. Then my brain reengaged and I remembered exactly what had happened, and I found myself smiling despite my hangover.

I forced both eyes open and reached across the soft, cushy mattress in search of Garrett’s big, warm body, but came into contact with nothing. Sitting up with the silky sheet wrapped around my naked breasts, I scanned the room in search of him only to discover I was all alone. A sudden bang on the bedroom door gave me a start just before it crashed open, and a woman I’d never seen before sauntered in like she owned the place.

Her glossy ebony hair hung past her shoulders in perfect waves. While I had no doubt I looked like a rumpled, thoroughly fucked mess, she looked like she’d just stepped off a runway. She was, by far, the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes on, and I may have been a bit envious at how put together she appeared. But the most unsettling thing about her sudden appearance was the frigidness in her ice blue eyes as she scowled down at me.

“Uh… hi.”

“Get your shit and get dressed. Time for all groupies and gold-digging whores to exit the premises.”

“Excuse me?” My back shot straight at her insult, and anger began clawing at my stomach. “Who the hell are you?”

Her red-painted lips curved up into a hateful sneer. I didn’t know who the woman was, or what had crawled up her ass, but if she didn’t drop the attitude I’d show her I was capable of out-bitching her. I’d dealt with too much shit the past few years, and I wasn’t willing to put up with any more from the likes of her.

“I’m Kimber. I’m the personal assistant for the guys.”

“What guys?”

She rolled her heavily shadowed eyes like dealing with me was beneath her. Seriously, who the hell was in full makeup and hair that damn early in the morning? “The band.” She was the assistant for the band? What in the world did that possibly have to do with Garrett and me? “Come on, honey. Try to keep up. I know their hookups aren’t normally known for being all that bright, but this is just ridiculous.”

“Where’s Garrett?” I asked, my jaw clenched tight in order to keep from leaping across the bed and throttling the she-devil. “I want to talk to Garrett.”

Her malicious laughter echoed in my ears and bounced around my aching skull. “Oh, you poor, stupid girl. That’s not going to happen. Give yourself a pat on the back for managing to fuck the drummer of Civil Corruption, then get your shit. It’s time to go.”

“Wait….” The lingering hangover made it difficult to process what she’d just said. “No… that’s not…. He wasn’t.”

“Ohmigod!” she laughed hysterically. “This is great! You actually thought he liked you? Let me guess. You thought there was a connection between the two of you? That it was something special, that you meant something to him?”

When she phrased it like that, I started to feel just as pathetic as she was insinuating. Uncertainty and insecurity began to creep in.

“Let me tell you something, sweetie. You. Are. Not. Special. I mean, I get it, I do. The man is unbelievable in bed, but you were nothing more than some chick willing to spread her legs and keep him entertained for a few hours. I’d be willing to bet he doesn’t even remember your name.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” I whispered lamely, blinking back the sudden burn behind my eyes.

“Oh, but it is,” she said with false pity. “As a matter of fact, his instructions to me just ten minutes ago were ‘There’s a brunette in my bed. Make sure she’s gone in the next ten minutes.’ That sound like an everlasting connection to you?”

I was absolutely mortified. For the first time in my life, I’d slept with a man just hours after meeting him, and not only did he lie to me about who he was, but he sent someone else to kick me out of his home first thing in the morning. I was such an idiot.

Ignoring the smug, condescending look on Kimber’s face, I jumped from the bed and frantically dressed, doing my best to keep the sheet in place as I slid my dress and panties back on. As soon as I was covered I threw the sheet aside, stood, and prepared to look for my shoes, only to find she already had them in her hands and was holding them out for me.

Snatching them away, I slid them on my feet, grabbed my tiny purse from the bedside table, and started out the bedroom door.

Her voice followed me down the hall, each nasty word from her mouth a piercing barb against my skin. “There’s a cab waiting outside for you. And no need to worry your pretty little head, the driver’s already been paid. Standard procedure for one-night stands and groupie hookups.”

I ran like the Devil himself was chasing at my heels, nearly face-planting on the tile floor at the bottom of the stairs. I didn’t once bother to look at my surroundings; instead, I got my footing and hightailed it out the front door.

It was only once the cab started down the long, circular drive that I allowed myself to cry.

But only for a minute. That asshole didn’t deserve any more than that.

* * *

Three months later

“You have to call him.”

“I’m not calling him,” I managed to say through the dry heaves.

“Gwen! You have to!”

I stopped hugging the toilet bowl and scooted back until I was resting against the side of the bathtub, the offending stick that started the puke-fest laying on the bathroom floor right beside me. I curled my lip at it like it had personally offended me.

Reaching for the cold, wet washcloth Corrine held out to me, I closed my eyes and placed it on my forehead while working to calm my pounding heart. “Corrie, even if I wanted to call him—which I absolutely don’t—I wouldn’t have the first goddamn clue how to reach him. I was a one-night stand, remember? The dickhead didn’t even have the decency to walk me out the morning after. He sent his snarling pit bull to do it for him.”

“I’ve got it!” she yelped, making me jump in fright. “Be right back!”

I sat on the floor while I waited, staring up at the old water stains on the ceiling above our tub/shower combo, wondering, once again, how I’d gotten so lucky in the best friend department.

She’d been by my side the past few weeks while I woke up every morning, sick as a dog, barely able to hold anything down. She’d fretted over me, insisting I go to the doctor because she was convinced I had some sort of virus. She’d held my hand in the pharmacy while we looked through the shelves of pregnancy tests. If it hadn’t been for her taking the reins, I probably would have still been standing there, frozen in a state of shock and horror.

“Here!” She ran back into the bathroom, waving her phone in the air. “I struck out with Declan Forrester the night of the party, but I did have a rather steamy make-out sesh with one of the sound tech guys. He’s been texting me nonstop ever since. Bet he’d have Garrett’s number.”

I chewed on my bottom lip as I stared at her phone like I was scared it would grow teeth and bite me. After running out of the mansion in Clyde Hill that fateful morning, I’d been determined to put the entire horrifying experience behind me. I was happy to pretend it had never happened, and I’d done everything in my power to avoid any and all mention of Civil Corruption and Garrett Wilder. I’d done pretty damn well up until this morning.

“I don’t know…,” I muttered.

“Babe, you know I’m totally on your side, but you can’t keep this from him. You’re pregnant with Garrett Wilder’s baby. You have to tell him.”

I looked down at my still-flat belly and placed my palm against it in a protective gesture. It hadn’t really hit me until that very moment, but once it did it was like being run over by a semi. I was pregnant. I had another life growing inside of me. And as much as I hated admitting it, I didn’t want to do it alone.

“Okay,” I finally relented, looking up at my best friend. “Call the guy. See what he can do.”

“On it.” Corrine leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “You know,” she paused, waiting for me to look up at her. “Lydia would be beside herself with excitement.” Corrine gave me a small, sweet smile as the mention of my mother’s name filled my eyes with tears. “She’d want you to be excited too, honey. A baby isn’t a bad thing.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“This is all going to work out just fine, Gwennie. I promise.”

* * *

A month and a half later

When my father died, I thought it wouldn’t be possible for my life to get any worse. Then I lost my mom and the family farm, and I thought I’d finally hit rock bottom.

But if the past month and a half had taught me anything, it was that I had much, much further to fall.

First there was the embarrassing fact that I hadn’t actually spoken a word to Garrett since finding out I was pregnant. The first person I’d told—outside of Corrine—was Civil Corruption’s asshole manager, Chris, a guy I would have personally loved to waterboard. And since that fun conversation, all contact had been closed with anyone except Garrett’s lawyer. I’d been ostracized by Civil Corruption’s inner sanctum and humiliated by their legal team. They’d treated me with cold cynicism when they demanded a paternity test and had refused any further communication until the results arrived.

Which led us to now.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled my attention from the surface of the imposing conference room table. Garrett’s lawyer, a tall, lanky man in an ill-fitting three-piece suit, stared down his nose at me disdainfully. I focused solely on the lawyer’s arrogant face, ignoring the only other two people in the room, Garrett’s manager, Chris, and that pinch-faced bitch Kimber.

No Garrett in sight. That was absolutely fine by me. With the shit-show that had become my life the past month and a half, I’d somehow managed to grow cold at just the thought of him. I’d actually become quite adept at numbing the pain, internalizing it and letting it form an impenetrable, protective shield around me.

“Well, Miss Carson, it appears that my client is indeed the father of your unborn child.”

“You don’t say,” I deadpanned, keeping my expression as flat as my voice. I just wanted to get this over with so I could get the hell out of there. I’d promised myself I’d go for the biggest plate of chicken and waffles I could find—an unexpected pregnancy craving—after having to deal with these assholes.

“Since that’s the case, we’ve drafted the papers accordingly. You’ll discover that the visitation agreement is relatively standard. Of course, there will be situations were the schedule will have to be modified—for instance, when the band tours and such—but that is something you and Chris can work out when the time comes.”

Of course, because why would Garrett possibly want to communicate with the mother of his child on such inane matters as visitation when he could have his gophers do it for him?

“As you’ll see in the documents before you, Mr. Wilder has also been more than generous in terms of a financial settlement. On top of a monthly stipend, all medical bills for yourself and the unborn child will be covered by Mr. Wilder.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from telling him that if he kept referring to my baby as the unborn child I was going to kick him in the nuts.

“But there are stipulations,” he continued. “If you try to argue for more money, Mr. Wilder is prepared to take you to court.”

My blood began to boil. I could feel it burning in my veins as red coated my vision.

“If you do not agree to sign the nondisclosure agreement we’ve attached, again, Mr. Wilder is prepared to take you to court. If you intend on going to the media in the hopes of a larger payday, Mr. Wilder—”

Just like that, I lost it. “Is prepared to take me to court. Got it,” I seethed. “But what you three dumbasses clearly don’t understand is I’m not the gold-digging whore you’d love to make me out to be. I don’t give two fucks about Mr. Wilder’s money.”

“Now there is no need for such hostile language,” the attorney spoke, but I’d officially had enough.

“Oh drop the professional act, limp dick.” Also, pregnancy might have made me just a touch testy. Not that my attitude wasn’t called for, considering how I was being treated. I placed my hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’ll agree to your nondisclosure for the simple fact that I don’t want the goddamn media circus that surrounds your asshole client to invade my child’s life in any way. And I expect for Mr. Wilder to do the same. Under no circumstances whatsoever do I want him speaking about my child.”

“You seem to forget it’s his child too—” Kimber chimed in, but I shot her a killing look that instantly shut her up.

“When I think it’s necessary for you to speak, I’ll tell you. Until then, you’ll sit there quietly like the good little lapdog you are.”

“You have no right—”

“And as for the settlement,” I snapped, cutting her off and turning my attention back to the attorney, “I don’t want it. If Mr. Wilder is insistent on financial support, he can open an account for our child once he or she is born. That money will belong solely to my baby. I want no access to it. I won’t require assistance with my medical bills because I have insurance through my job, and I am more than capable of providing for my child and myself.

“I won’t argue visitation, mainly because I’m not a heartless bitch, and I want this child”—I placed my hand on my slightly swollen belly—“to have its father in its life. You make the necessary changes to the documents that I just stated and have them sent to me, and I’ll be more than happy to sign if it means never having to lay eyes on you three sons of bitches ever again. Do we have an understanding?”

Mr. Poorly Dressed Lawyer Man sat in silence for several seconds before finally coming to his senses. “I’ll have a revised copy messengered to you by the end of the day.”

“Wonderful,” I bit out sarcastically. Then I grabbed my purse and stomped out of the room. That plate of chicken and waffles was calling my name.

Unfortunately, before I could make it to the bank of elevators, one of them opened and off stepped Garrett Wilder, along with his three bandmates. Just fucking perfect.

His wide green eyes filled with trepidation when he caught sight of me. I was prepared to walk past like I hadn’t even seen him, but then the bastard had to open his mouth and speak.

“Hey, sweetness. Didn’t expect you’d still be here.”

I told myself that later I’d look back on that moment and blame what I did next on pregnancy hormones, but the truth was I just couldn’t stand the guy.

My fingers balled into a tight fist, my arm cocked back as I continued toward the elevators, and, without even breaking stride, I punched Garrett Wilder, famous drummer of Civil Corruption, right in his perfect, straight, model-worthy nose.

“Dude!” I heard one of the other guys laugh as I climbed onto the elevator they’d just exited. “I think I’m in love with your baby mama!”

I waited until the doors closed to cradle my hand and winced. “Motherfucker!”

Who knew punching someone could hurt so damn bad.