KENNEDY

As per the usual, I am waiting on Sydney for our lunch date. No matter what the occasion, I never expect her to show up on time, so I thought ahead and brought my laptop with me. Pounding on the keys of my beat up Macbook, I peek at my notepad on the table next to me, stealing a few glances at the shorthand notes I had taken during my interview with the Sixers head coach.

I had asked Sydney to meet me at Broad Street Beans because I was in Philly this morning. It has been three days since I last saw Sydney for our spa date. Now that Tyler and I live together, the distance makes seeing Sydney a lot harder. While I am only a half hour drive away, on a good day and without traffic, I have become lazy, too used to working from the office Tyler had setup for me on the second floor of his house.

It still feels weird to call it our home. He insists that I make his house our home, act as though I have lived there my entire life. But after having my family’s fortune stripped away, I have a hard time settling down anywhere for long. His invitation to live with him came at the perfect time because I was running through my savings and close to living on Sydney’s couch if I didn’t score another big break.

It’s not as if I moved in with Tyler to help myself out of a shitty financial situation. Tyler was aware of the mess I had to deal with, and to him, me moving in was not only a step in the right direction for our relationship but also for me and the future of my paper. He offered to help with Sports Buzz, but I have to finish what I had started without his intervention.

While I have no doubt his connections could open up doors for me, the Lockwood name no longer held in high esteem with investors, I want to do this on my own. He may not understand my need to be independent, just as much father has a hard time grasping the concept, but he respects me enough to allow me to make whatever choices I deem necessary, regardless of the outcome.

By the time Sydney arrives, she’s already twenty minutes late. Of course, she looks gorgeous, as always, her silky black curls styled to perfection and framing her heart shaped face. She exudes so much confidence as she walks toward my table, waving at me. I raise my hand in acknowledgment, a wide grin plastered on my face.

Sydney sits across from me, draping her purse strap over the back of her chair, and gives me a toothy smile. Her eyes pop from the dark shade of blue she has coated on her lids, and combined with the long, dark lashes, she looks even more alluring.

“You look like crap, babe.” She flattens palms on the table, appraising me and taking in every detail of my face, as she leans forward. “Has Tyler been keeping you locked up in a dungeon over there?” Reaching across the table, she attempts to take a lock of my hair in her hand, but I back away from her before she can patronize me further.

I fold my arms across my chest, my leg crossed over the other, and shake my head. “You know you can be such a brat sometimes, Syd. Tyler is taking care of me in more ways than you can imagine. I am doing just fine. Maybe you’re the one who needs a man to tend to your needs.”

Her face grows serious for a second before she breaks our intense staring contest, the two of us fucking with the other.

She breaks out into laughter. “Carter and I are fantastic, thank you very much.”

“Did you have sex with him yet?” I know the answer to my question after all of Carter’s phone calls and visits to bitch to Tyler and me.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder and glances out the window. “Let’s just say I am making Carter work for every second he spends with me. And he can’t get enough of what I’m putting down.”

“You have him wrapped around your finger, huh?”

Sydney has been toying with Carter Donovan for two weeks now, and he has fallen into her trap. As someone who likes attention, craves it even, she thrives on torturing the men in her life. For the most part, her games work on the opposite sex, but there have been a few times her plans have backfired, and she regretted stringing the men along after they had the nerve to walk away.

Some guys can only take so much. Despite her many charms, Sydney has a way about her that wears men down. But she usually brings them to their knees. If she had a super power, that would be it.

She shrugs, unaffected by the mental pain she is causing Carter. I know this because of his many complaints about my friend, the evil vixen who leaves him with a never-ending case of blue balls. “More or less. I think he likes playing the game just as much as I do.”

“You might end up losing him if you don’t give in a little bit. Carter is also Tyler’s best friend, and I’d like to avoid any awkwardness that your pretend romance will end up causing in the future.”

“Just because you’re ready to walk down the aisle with Tyler doesn’t mean I want that for myself, K. I am having too much fun with Carter to stop. You have no idea what it’s like to see a man like him grovel and beg. It’s so sexy. He will be rewarded in time, and I will make it worth his wait.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that you should ease up on him. If you like him, you should give him a real shot, maybe let him take you out on a date. I know for a fact he would kill for the opportunity to take you anywhere you want. You could tell him you want to eat dinner in Paris and Carter would have a flight booked ten minutes later. Trust me, girl, this one is boyfriend material. Think about it.”

“Fine. I will consider it.” She pushes her chair out from the table and stands, her breasts falling out of a tight black top that leaves nothing to the imagination. “I need some coffee. Do you want a refill?”

Staring down at my empty mug, I nod. “Yeah. I’ll have a nonfat caramel macchiato and a piece of chocolate cake.”

“Be right back,” she says with a wink, and then strolls over to the front counter in five-inch heels that accentuate her long legs in the short skirt so tight I wonder how she even got into it.

I go back to typing up the article I was working on before Sydney showed up. The piece needs a few final changes, so I do a quick proofread and schedule it for an early morning release tomorrow. If only I could land a better story, one that would bring my paper enough publicity to get myself out of the hole.

A few minutes later, Sydney reappears with a young boy who is holding a tray with two coffee mugs and two plates of chocolate cake. She acts as though we are in a restaurant, and as if the barista is one of the servants she had grown accustomed to having served her as a child. Spoiled does not even cover how we both were raised, except I have adjusted to the real world, while Sydney still lives insider her little bubble.

“Thank you, darling.” She shoots the young boy a wicked grin, her smile reaching up to her eyes.

He sets our drinks and food on the table, ignoring me and checking out Sydney’s ass as she takes a seat across from me. “Any time,” he mutters, afraid to make eye contact with her, something I have seen more men do than I can count.

The boy must be a student at Strickland University, and since we’re on the campus and sitting in their coffee shop, Sydney and her ass have also attracted the attention of other young males in the café. Wherever we go, we have to deal with the same glances in our direction.

Sydney says thank you to the boy again before he leaves our table, stealing glances at her as he walks back to the front counter.

I lift my fork and dig into my cake, devouring each bite. “This is so good,” I mutter as I chew with my mouth full and chocolate stuck to my teeth.

“I’m breaking my no carb diet since every time I see you now is a celebration.” She cuts a tiny piece of her cake and looks down at it, the disappointment she feels registered all over her face. Holding the fork to her mouth, she stuffs the chocolate in her mouth and moans. “Mmm…It has been months since my last pastry. You are a bad influence, K.”

Shoveling the food in my mouth, like a human garbage disposal, I finish in record timing and set my fork down on my plate, washing down the food with my coffee.

It takes Sydney a few minutes to catch up to me, her quiet grunts making me laugh as I watch her in action. She has such a good figure because she works for it. On the other hand, I am her carb-loving friend who cannot live without bread and snack foods.

For the most part, Tyler eats healthy, especially now that he’s back to training again. Some of his habits have rubbed off on me and eating salads is one of them, which shocked the hell out of both of us.

As I drink the rest of my coffee, the food churns up in my stomach, bile rising up from my throat and choking me. Maybe I just ate too fast and need to let it settle. My mouth waters, and combined with the chunks rising, I feel as though I could puke. Grasping the edge of the table, waves of nausea almost knocking me out, I push my chair out and come to a standing.

I bend forward, pressing a hand to my mouth and the try to get this under control.

Sydney peeks at me from beneath her long lashes, the fork still in her hand and full of cake. “Are you okay, babe? You don’t look so hot.”

I shake my head, hoping I can make it to the restroom. “No, I think I am going to be sick. I guess I ate too fast or something.” Before she can get in another word, I turn around and run toward the back of the café, my stomach doing somersaults and kicking my ass as I push open the restroom door.

Forcing my way past two girls hogging up the mirror, I step into the first stall and hunch over in just enough time to lose my lunch. It feels as though it will never end, my insides clenching and in pain from exercising the contents of my stomach. I can hear the girls on the other side of the wall as they make gagging sounds before they exit. Not like I want an audience as I finish up by dry heaving over the dirty toilet.

“You okay, K?” Sydney’s singsong voice fills the quiet room.

“Syd, my stuff is out at the table. I’ll be fine just go keep an eye on things.” I wipe my mouth, flush the toilet, and try to get the spins under control.

“I’ve got you covered,” she says, confident. “Do you need me to hold your hair or anything?”

“Nope. I’m good. Thanks.” My throat is so raw it hurts when I speak.

When I open the door, Sydney is waiting for me on the other side with her back pressed against the wall, our purses dangling from her arm and my laptop bag slung over her shoulder.

“What about our table?” I ask but could care less at this point, because all I can think about is going home and laying in bed for the rest of the day.

“I let a group of girls have it. We need to get you back to my place stat.”

I walk over to the sink, slap some water on my face, and wash my hands, staring into the mirror in horror. My skin has a yellowish tint, and I look like fucking death. Tyler will have a stroke when he sees me like this.

“That was so weird,” Sydney says, adjusting the strap on her shoulder with laughter in her voice. “One minute you were fine, and the next you turned into the Exorcist.”

I cup my hands together and fill them with water to splash on my face one last time. “Shut up. It’s not funny. I just hurled up everything I have eaten for the last day, and I am not in the mood right now.”

She lifts a strand of hair from my face and pushes it behind my ear. “Did you eat something bad this morning?”

“No, the cake is the first thing I have eaten all day. Tyler had a workout with his trainer this morning, and I forgot to eat since he wasn’t around.”

“You’re not…” She bites down on her bottom lip, her expression turning grim.

She doesn’t even have to finish the thought before I realize where she’s going with this conversation. But that is not possible.

“No.” My tone lacks confidence. “Tyler and I stopped using condoms a while ago, but I am on birth control. It’s…no—”

“Babe, it’s okay if you are preggers. You’re both adults.” She runs her hand down my back to soothe me except this talk is having the opposite effect on me. I may puke all over again at the thought.

“I’m telling you, Syd, there’s no way I am pregnant.”

“Because you are on birth control? While it may be super useful most of the time, it can fail.”

Taking my purse from her arm, I slip it onto my forearm and reach inside to retrieve my empty birth control pill packet. I finished my entire dose five days ago. But when I open the pack, I spot one last pill in the row above the sugar pills. Somehow, I must have mixed them with the real medicine.

“Fuck,” I mutter to myself under my breath.

Sydney takes the pills from my hand, her face twisting into a mixture of surprise and disgust before she gives them back to me and feigns a smile. “You will be okay. No matter what, I am here for you and Tyler will be as well.”

I cannot and will not accept reality, my entire world feeling as though it is crashing down on me all at once. How will Tyler take the news if it turns out I am pregnant?

“I have to call Tyler,” I tell her as we leave the restroom. “He is going to freak out.”

“Maybe not. For all you know, Tyler wants kids. Besides, you could be fine.”

I still haven’t told Sydney about Blake or Tyler’s extended family. She has no idea how Tyler may feel about this situation. Keeping my fingers crossed, I follow behind Sydney as we stroll through the café and out the front door.

* * *

On our way to Sydney’s apartment, we stop by the pharmacy and buy three pregnancy tests—because one did not feel like enough at the time. Sydney unboxes all three while I wait on the toilet for her to hand them over. She insisted she does this with me, regardless of how awkward it is for her to stand here as she gives me the sticks. I pee on each one and set them on the counter next to me, afraid and scared for both Tyler and me of the results.

While I know he wants kids, children are a sensitive subject with Tyler. The outcome of the tests holds our future. I am beyond terrified.

I hold my breath, sinking my elbows into my thighs and glancing over at Sydney as we wait for the tests to change color.

“It’s going to be okay, babe.” Sydney sits on the floor next to me and rubs her hand down my forearm. “No matter what the tests say, you have Tyler and me. You have your family. We will all be here to support you. If it’s Tyler you’re worried about, he’s a grown man who can handle it.”

“We haven’t been together long enough for us to be thinking about having children.” I shake my head, both frustrated and irritated with myself. “As much as we have sex, we were running through condoms every other day, and with my irregular periods, I was already on the pill, so I didn’t think anything of it. I never mess up like this. How did I not see that I was taking the wrong pills?”

“You didn’t mess up. It was an accident.” She sighs, taking my hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. “Let’s just wait and see what the sticks tell us before you go beating yourself up over missing a pill. It happens to plenty of people.”

Digging my fingers into my hair, I stare at Sydney, wishing she had the answer. She always has the answers, knows the right things to say, but even she seems as if she’s having a hard time with this situation.

“One more minute,” she says, glancing down at the cell phone in her trembling hand. “

“I cannot believe this is happening,” I say this more to myself, but Sydney can still hear me. “I am so fucking stupid. How could I swap them out without noticing? I’ve been taking the same pills for years. My schedule is like clockwork. I wake up, I grab my medicine, I brush my teeth—”

“Stop dwelling on it.” Sydney snaps me out of my self-loathing rant. “There’s nothing you can do about it now.”

“I finished the sugar pills three days ago and didn’t even notice I still had one left. How? Was I half asleep when I took them? Probably,” I say, answering my own question.

Most mornings, Tyler wakes me up with a hard-on, wanting sex before I can even stretch my arms out. He’s insatiable. He can never get enough of me, and the feeling is mutual. But we are not ready for children.

The alarm on Sydney’s phone beeps, my heart pounding out my chest with each ring. She shuts it off and pulls herself to her feet, using the edge of the vanity to brace herself.

“I’m afraid to look,” I tell her. “You have to do it for me.” Tasting the bile rising up from my stomach in the back of my throat, I try to choke it back down along with my nerves. But nothing can help quell my anxiety.

I watch Sydney, praying for a sign of relief. Her face brightens, the corners of her mouth turning up into a happy smile as she turns to face me. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I am going to be an aunt, and I am so damn excited about it.”

“I’m pregnant!” I shoot up from the toilet seat to check out the tests for myself. All of them have two lines, indicating that I am having Tyler’s baby. Our baby. We are pregnant.

A small part of me is excited because a child is what Tyler has wanted every since the day he signed the adoption papers for Blake. He has regretted his decision from that moment on, forced to live with his choice.

What if this news sends him over the edge?

Sydney wraps her arms around me and snuggles her cheek against mine, the scent of her sweet perfume making my stomach churn. “You’re going to be a mom, K. This is so exciting.”

I want to be happy, and I am to some extent. But I have trouble sharing Sydney’s enthusiasm without knowing how Tyler will respond. I left the house this morning as his girlfriend, and now I’m the mother of his child.

“How do I tell Tyler?” I stutter the words, my nerves getting the best of me.

She takes a step back from me, holding me at arm's length and staring into my eyes. “You tell Tyler he’s going to be a father, and if he has a problem with it, he will have to deal with me.” Her smile reaches up to her eyes, and I can’t help but join in because her words provoke a reaction from me.

For the first time in over an hour, I am smiling. No matter the outcome of my conversation with Tyler, it does not change the fact that I am having his child.

“I guess I better get home.” I slip away from her grasp, throwing my hands onto my hips as I stare down at my stomach. “What will I look like a few months from now? With the way I eat, I will end up being the size of a house, and Tyler will be repulsed by me.”

She shakes her head and then brushes a loose curl behind her ear. “I can see you already, glowing and gorgeous and the cutest mother to ever rock Chanel.”

“There’s no way I’ll fit into Chanel in a few months. The last time I checked, they don’t sell maternity clothes.”

“Hey, they have a maternity wedding gown. I’m sure we can find you some maternity clothes to go along with it.”

“Oh, God. Now you’re freaking me out. Wedding gowns, babies, this is all too much at one time.”

“Just focus on my little niece or nephew that is cooking inside your belly, and I will worry about you being the best dressed baby mama this city has ever seen.”

I laugh at her insanity, keeping my fingers crossed that Tyler will respond in the same fashion as Sydney.