I can’t help leaving Rose’s boutique in a near-rage, stomping across the parking lot before hopping in my car and driving back to the Mountain Spirit Resort. Before I know it, I find myself in the hotel bar, ironically the same hotel bar I first met Rose in.

“What’s your whimsy?” the bartender asks. “You look familiar.”

“Been here once before . . . and a double scotch, Glenlivet if you’ve got it. Neat,” I reply in a tone that says very clearly, ‘don’t ask.’ Besides, I seriously doubt he remembers me, probably something to spark up conversation.

The bartender gets my drink and I take a sip, the aged oak burn sliding down my throat and evaporating in my stomach while my brain swirls, lost in thoughts of what just happened.

Rose is pregnant.

Yep. That’s pretty much a given.

Pregnant with my baby.

Well, we could still call Maury Povich, but yeah, there’s a good chance that you ARE the father.

How did this happen?

You know, when a man and woman love each other very much, they wiggle their bodies together and that sends a signal to the land of the storks . . .

I never expected anything like this. I was coming back to town for a work trip, again, as always, and thought maybe I could see Rose one more time. Not for a booty call, though I admit I wouldn’t have complained about a happy ending.

We’d had such a hot night, and I’ve never felt chemistry like that with anyone before. Beyond that, I hadn’t really given it much thought until I saw her, her blonde hair floating out behind her like there were wind currents flowing by just for the chance to caress her hair.

I knew it was her instantly, but all of my joy faltered when I saw her rounded belly. Granted, it didn’t cross my mind that the baby she was carrying was . . . mine.

The word smacks me right in the brain. And again, I’m lost. Pregnant. My baby.

“I’m going to be a father,” I say to myself out loud. The words seem alien to me. Not that I never wanted to be, but I never expected it to be like this. I press back from the bar, tossing the rest of my scotch to burn down my throat, needing some privacy for the panic attack I’m afraid is coming.

Now? Of all the fucking times? I mean, I went through an acre of shit after meeting her the first time, and I’ve just started to pull myself out of that rut.

I virtually stomp to my room, leaning back against the door as it closes. I lift my chin, closing my eyes and talking out loud to the empty room. “I don’t know how to be a father. I barely feel like I can take care of myself half the fucking time. What am I going to do?”

I need to talk to someone, someone who’ll help me get my shit straight, because I’m veering a hard left into uncharted territory. I honestly feel like I just stepped off a bridge, intent on BASE jumping . . . and I now realize that’s not a parachute I’m holding but an umbrella from the dollar store.

Grabbing my phone, I dial Wes. He’s one of my only friends and I’m glad when he answers on the second ring. “Hey, buddy, you already get the contract approved and signed? Damn, I figured it’d take you until at least tomorrow. You’re a beast, man!”

It takes him a moment to realize that I’m silent, just breaths coming through the line. Contract? Shit, of all the things to think about. I’ve got more obligations now, and I don’t know how the fuck to balance it all. I take a deep breath, calming myself.

Wes speaks up again, his voice more subdued and concerned. “Hey, Nicolas? You there, man? Everything okay?”

I let out a shaky breath, running a hand through my hair as I feel my throat constrict while I try to fight back the tsunami of feelings inside. “Wes . . . she’s pregnant.”

There’s a stunned silence on the other end, and when Wes answers, I can hear the confusion in his voice. “Huh? Who’s pregnant?”

Pulling myself together with sheer will, I try to get it all out. I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to get through this again for a while. “Rose. She’s the woman here that I met last time. Remember when I told you about her? I saw her today and . . . she’s pregnant.”

Wes hums soothingly, supportively as he lets the news hit him. “Okay, she’s pregnant. First things first, I guess. Is uh . . . well, is it yours?”

I clear my throat, trying to get the words out. “It’s mine. Yeah, it’s mine.” Saying it out loud to another person makes it feel a little more real somehow. There’s no running, no hiding, although I’m not sure that’s even what I want to do. I’m just shaken, surprised at the turn of events I never saw coming.

Wes has always been the rational, proactive side of our Yin-Yang. That’s what makes our business so successful, and I’m reminded why I appreciate him when he automatically goes into planning mode. Instead of offering congratulations or condolences, his mind just shifts into ‘well, now what?’ mode. “Okay, so it’s your baby. What do you want? What does she want? And are they the same thing?”

All very good questions. I can almost imagine him scribbling them down on the legal pad he keeps next to his laptop for brainstorming ideas, but I have no idea of the answers. “I don’t know. She got mad and kicked me out.”

Wes’s voice raises a notch, in surprise or anger, I’m not sure. “Why would she do that?”

“I kinda fucked up. Long story short, I asked if she sabotaged the condom. And I asked the same thing you did, if the baby is mine.”

Wes sighs loudly, and I can picture him pinching his nose between his fingers like he always does when he’s exasperated. “Fair questions given the circumstances, if you ask me, but maybe not the best phrasing. I mean, this isn’t like asking if a customer intentionally fucked up something on a shipment.”

“I know,” I reply, starting to feel slightly calmer. “I was just surprised and confused and wasn’t thinking before I spoke. Holy shit, man, I’m going to be a father.”

Wes’s voice calms me as he continues. “Okay, back to the original questions. What do you want and does she want the same thing? Do you want to be involved? You’ve always been a man on the move, nomadic and chasing after the next new thing. This could change your life. Or not.”

I try to imagine myself traveling for work every week, going from place to place, all while Rose would be here creating a home for our baby. Our baby who wouldn’t even know me. Imagining myself as the guy who comes through every once in awhile with presents from afar, t-shirts from Tacoma and bumper stickers from Brooklyn or something, begging for awkward hugs, only to run off again.

The image makes me sick. I try to imagine an alternative, one where I’m holding a little blonde baby girl, sitting in the grassy yard with her as we wait for Rose to come home from work.

While that sounds idyllic, I’m not sure I’m set up to stay here all the time. What would it mean for me and my career? Besides, am I ready for that sort of life, the same day on repeat like it’s that Groundhog Day movie I’ve watched on reruns late at night?

Reruns about a day on repeat . . . the irony there makes me huff a bit, considering my life.

“Wes, I’ll do the contract while I’m here,” I finally say, “but I’m going to need some time. Check in with my assistant about my upcoming visits for the next few weeks and see who you can get to cover them. Also, Rose insisted that she tried to get in contact with me about three months ago, but I never got anything. I know that was right about the time we were busy as hell and having a few IT issues, but still, that was an important fucking message. If you need me, give me a call, but I need to stay in town here. I hope you can understand.”

“Sure thing, Nicholas. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll take care of things here. And man, good luck. It sounds like you’re gonna need it.”

“I appreciate that, and thanks for not saying it . . . contract first, then Rose. Don’t worry, I’ll get that handled quickly and then see what’s here and how this is gonna work.”

Wes makes a sound that I swear sounds like a cheer. “All right, Nic. Get your personal stuff settled and then we’ll talk.”

“Talk?” I ask. “About what?”

Wes sighs, I know he doesn’t want to bring this up right now. “Nic, you’re my boy and I understand that family comes first. But we need you. Hell, I need you to keep us growing and selling. I’ll do what I can to rearrange everything for the short term, but long term, we might need to revamp your role if you want the chance to be a father. If that’s your plan. Some food for thought. Good luck, man. It sounds like you’re gonna need it.”

I hang up the phone, a new fear settling in my heart after the feeling wears off.

How in the fuck is this gonna work?

I can’t go and leave my baby. I don’t even know if she wants me to stay. But I know that’s my baby in her belly, and I can’t imagine being an asshole who never knew his child.