Chapter 24

Riley

Two entire weeks had passed since I’d walked out on Jax in his office at Club Queen. He hadn’t contacted me once. Which was exactly what I’d wanted, right?

I chewed my bottom lip, nerves burning in my belly. Two weeks since I’d walked out on him. Two days since my period had been due. I brought up the brown paper bag and set it on my knees. Perched on the edge of the bathtub, I caught every one of my movements in Veronica’s bathroom mirror.

Pale face, round eyes, lips thinned and dry from stress. I licked them and swallowed, but my mouth was still dry.

This is not happening. Not like this.

“Knock, knock!” Veronica called out, from the hall. “Nessy’s fast asleep, our popcorn is popping, the TV is on, and I’ve got the box set of Game of Thrones ready to go. If you take much longer in there, I’m going to call the fire department. I’m in serious need of butter and salt.”

God.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I said. “Sorry, Ron, I’ve got a—I think it’s a stomach bug. I’ve been throwing up and—”

“Hey, I said salt and butter, not vomit and poop. I don’t need the details.” A beat passed. “Do you need anything? I could run down to the drugstore and pick up some Pepto-Bismol or something.”

“No, I’m good. I’ll be out soon,” I said.

“All right.” Veronica’s footsteps receded, and I let out a sigh of relief.

God, this was tough.

It’d been bad enough tucking my tail in between my legs and apologizing to her, admitting that I’d fucked up, bad, and it’d been worse knowing that me sleeping on her couch probably made things more awkward for her.

Now this? I looked down at the bag.

I’d gone to the drugstore this afternoon when Ron had gone to fetch Nessy from school. I’d planned on taking the test tomorrow morning when she had a shift at the restaurant, but I couldn’t wait a second longer. The fact that I had the pregnancy test right here—I’d hidden it behind the laundry basket—chewed a hole through my psyche.

I had to know now.

I had to know how bad things were going to get and how fast. If I was pregnant, there was no question in my mind as to what I’d do. Keep it. But everything else was up in the air.

Questions marks multiplied in my mind.

“Stop it,” I muttered. “Just take the test.”

I opened the bag and extracted the box, stripped it off, and read the instructions twice over. And then, I couldn’t stall a second longer. How strange was it that I both wanted to get this done and dreaded doing it all in one?

I shimmied out of my jeans, sat down on the toilet and, well, followed the instructions. I capped the stick after I was done and set it on the side of the bathtub, then flushed, wiped, washed and stared at myself in the mirror again.

“Come on, Riley,” I whispered. “You’re better than this. You’re not afraid. You’re fine. You can do this. It’s just a test. It’s just…” the biggest moment in my entire life.

I timed for exactly three minutes, my heart shimmying up into my throat, pounding out a rhythm that threatened to make me sick. I walked to the edge of the bath and sat down next to the stick. I’d placed it with the digital indicator facing down.

I squeezed my eyes shut, lifted it from the bathtub’s side, turned it over, and felt the plastic screen with my thumb.

“Do it,” I whispered.

I opened my eyes and stared at the screen.

Tears spilled down my cheeks.

Pregnant.

3+.

The set of numbers had to be the weeks. I frowned. Wait a second, how was it possible that I was more than three weeks pregnant? I’d stayed with Jax for four. It’d been two weeks since then.

I counted back in my head, then gasped. It had to have happened one of the first nights. But we’d used a condom both times, and neither of them had broken.

The night he fell asleep inside you.

I’d lain there with him in the bed, his dick growing soft inside me, condom still on. That had to be it—it’d—oh god.

It didn’t matter how it’d happened. I was pregnant with Jax King’s baby. A man who owned strip clubs and picked up women sleeping in their studios. Who cooked a mean lasagna but treated me like I was nothing but his property.

If that was how he thought of me, how would he think of the baby?

It didn’t matter now that I cared for him, only what was best for my unborn child. I couldn’t not tell Jax, but I had to figure out when the time would be right, how I would do it, and how I would get him to back off if he tried to take charge of every little part of my life.

“Riley?” Veronica again. “Seriously, I can run down to the drugstore for you. I’m starting to get more than a little worried here.”

“Don’t,” I said. “I—uh, I haven’t colored your tiles in shades of puke.” Ew, bad joke, but I was hardly in the state to make a good one.

“Ew, that’s gross.”

“I’m done,” I said. “I’m coming out.” I flushed the toilet again, then snatched up the brown bag, shoved the spent box and test inside it, and hurried to the little wastepaper basket next to the sink. I shoved it right in the bottom, grabbed a handful of tissues from the dispenser on the counter, and piled them on top.

It would have to suffice as a hiding spot for now.

I wasn’t ready to tell Veronica about this. She’d been super uncomfortable about Jax, and our relationship had taken a huge knock because of it. The pregnancy thing? God, who knew how she’d react.

I scurried over to the bathroom door, smoothed my palms down my sweater, then clicked the lock and stepped out.

Veronica immediately pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “You’re hot,” she said. “You’ve got a fever. Should I call the doctor?”

“Relax, Mom, I’m fine. I’m in perfect shape for a good, old series marathon.”

“No Netflix and chill,” Veronica said and dropped her arm. “Netflix and popcorn, though, if you can stomach it.”

“I’ll see how I feel,” I replied. And I wasn’t faking. It wasn’t that I had morning sickness or night sickness or whatever. It was that my stomach burned with a mixture of shame and fear.

How would I tell Jax?

How would I tell Veronica?

And how the hell would I come up with the money to look after my baby?

My baby.

I followed Veronica down the short, dingy hall into her tiny living room, my hand on my belly. My baby. This was what I’d always wanted, and sure, I’d never expected it to happen like this, but for all my nerves and fear for the future, there was still a spark of joy.

A baby!

I sat down on the sofa, tucked my legs underneath myself, and dragged the blanket into my lap. Veronica grabbed the popcorn and held the bowl on her lap, then hit play. She sang along to the intro tune loudly, conducting the invisible orchestra with both hands, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

We settled in to watch.

It was a marathon, all right. We got halfway through season one before Veronica broke into a massive yawn and clicked off the TV. “Ugh, I can’t believe I have to sleep. I would so love to stay up until six a.m. just watching this.”

“But you’ve seen it all already.”

“I know, right? Addictive.” She scooched off the chair, placed the bowl on the coffee table, then kissed me on the top of my head. “Good night, Riley,” she said. “See ya in like six hours.”

“Night,” I replied.

She tottered off down the hall, bare feet whispering on wood, then disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door behind her.

I let out a sigh. Tension leaked from my shoulders.

Thank god. I could quit pretending I was fine, that I’d actually taken in anything happening on the screen. I sat frozen on the sofa, my hand on my belly, my gaze on my cell phone, silent on the coffee table.

Jax wouldn’t call me first. I’d told him to back off, and he’d done exactly that.

I reached for the phone, then snatched my hand back as if it’d been bitten.

“Not yet,” I whispered.

What would I do? Call him up and say, “Oh, hey, yeah, remember me? The girl who told you I never wanted to see you again because you work with strippers? Well, I’m pregnant with your unborn child. Also, I’m broke, I have no place to live, and I have no job at the moment apart from the prospect of becoming a server at one of those topless restaurants. Let’s meet up and talk.”

He’d immediately assume I wanted his money or help. Isn’t that what you want? No, it wasn’t what I wanted. It would help to have support, but I wanted to stand on my own two feet.

I’d had to after my parents disowned me, and I’d do it now, too.

I got up and fetched my pillow from the pile of bedclothes in the corner. I plumped it, set it down on the sofa, then lay down and covered myself up. The TV was off. The bathroom light was still on, but everything else was in darkness. I stared at the ceiling, imagining shapes and images on it.

I’d done that growing up—I’d seen my favorite dancers or clips from music videos, and when I was older, the faces of the boys I’d had crushes on. Michael’s face once. Now, it was gone, replaced by—

“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut and guarded myself against Jax’s handsomeness.

Being pregnant didn’t change anything.

He was still a strip club owner. He was still the guy who did nothing but own things. I was still the woman who didn’t believe in love. The baby would be my world, and that was it.

A knock rat-tatted against Veronica’s front door.

I opened my eyes, frowning.

Who the hell was that?

She wasn’t expecting visitors—apart from one waitress at work, I was her only friend. Unless it was that waitress at work come to ask for help. Apparently, Veronica was a sucker for helping people out, and she’d mentioned that this waitress chick had been having trouble with her boyfriend.

Another soft knock, not loud enough to wake Ronny.

I scooched out of bed and padded over to the door, placed my palms against it, shut one eye and peered out the peephole.

My insides convulsed. They threatened to explode.

Jax stood on the other side, his face beautiful even through a fish-eye lens.

The strong jaw beneath the rough, blond beard. The sparkling blue eyes, sapphires in the dingy light out on the front step, the street dark behind him. And those lips—the ones that’d captured my nipples and lips, that’d spoken words which made me want to cry, scream, laugh.

The father of my unborn child was out there.

Why?

There’s only one way to find out.

“Riley,” Jax said, softly. “I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing, and I can smell your perfume.”

He could hear me breathing? I clapped my hand over my mouth—seriously, was I that loud? Maybe it was just because he was here. I’d gone into hyperventilation mode.

“Open the door,” he whispered. “We need to talk. Now.”