Desperate Times (Boys of Silver Ridge 2)

I take a drink of my water and nod, not wanting to be the asshole who breaks it to her that I have a girlfriend. Had a girlfriend? Fuck.

Stacey has a few siblings, I think. I know her older sister has children. Stacey mentioned it a few times and tried to get me to go to one of their birthday parties last year. Luckily, I had to work and used that as the perfect excuse not to go.

“It can be scary,” Michelle says gently. “But once you see your baby for the first time, you fall in love.” She smiles. “Just looking at the ultrasound makes me tear up.

"Just look at my little gummy bear grandbaby!” Stacey’s mom pulls up a photo of the ultrasound on her phone and zooms in on the baby.

“I haven’t seen that yet,” I say, leaning forward.

“Oh, really?” She seems surprised and passes me her phone.

It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve looked at anything OB/GYN related in a clinical setting, but I know right away something is off.

“This is from the weekend?” I ask as I zoom out.

“Yes, Saturday morning. It was so exciting to hear the heartbeat,” she says right as I see the date and Stacey’s name…along with her estimated due date. What? This means—wait—I have to be sure. “Are there any other pictures?”

“Yes,” Michelle says enthusiastically. “You should be able to see them if you swipe.”

I nod and go to the next photo. This one has measurements of the baby, and again, Stacey’s name, the date the ultrasound was taken, and the due date.

“I’m getting sick of having to pee all the time already,” Stacey says, coming back to the table. “What you guys—” She cuts off with a gasp when she sees the ultrasound photo on her mom’s phone.

“We’re admiring how cute the little gummy bear looks.” Michelle beams. “Oh, I just can’t wait until he or she is here!”

I look up from the phone, meeting Stacey’s eyes. Her face pales and she slowly sinks into her chair.

“You’re nine weeks along,” I say, and some of the shock wears off.

“Nine weeks and four days to be exact!” Her mom takes the phone back, smiling again at the black-and-white photo.

“Mom,” Stacey says through gritted teeth. “No.”

“No?” Her mom gives her a confused look. “What do you mean?”

Calmly, I reach for my water and take a big drink. Stacey is only in the first trimester. Only nine weeks along.

“What are you playing at?” I ask, and anger starts to take over. “Do you have any idea what this has done to my life?” I ask, working hard to keep my voice low. “My relationship? And what? Did you think you could keep up the lie? That I wouldn’t wonder when the due date came and passed?” I huff and stand up, slowly shaking my head in disgust.

“I…I…don’t be mad,” Stacey tries and reaches for me. I jerk back, bumping into the table next to us.

“Why?” I say in a low voice, clenching my fists.

“I…I don’t know,” she whimpers. “I knew you’d take care of me and the baby. Please don’t be mad.”

Mad? I’m beyond mad and am fucking pissed. Resisting the urge to flip the table, I take my wallet out and put enough cash on the table to cover the food I ordered but hasn’t yet come.

“What’s going on?” Michelle looks from me to Stacey several times.

“She’s only nine weeks along,” I tell her, tearing my eyes away from Stacey. “There is no way that baby is mine.”“Sam, wait!” Stacey calls after me, but I keep walking, not stopping until I’m on the sidewalk outside the restaurant.

“What is wrong with you?” I ask. “You upended my life.”

“What about my life?” she blurts out and then shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I’m hormonal and I can’t help—”

“That’s not my problem, Stacey. You lied to me and you were set to continue lying? What was your plan? To make me think I had a child until they turned eighteen?” I look away and let out a breath. I don’t want to stand here yelling at anyone, let alone a pregnant lady. “I should have seen it coming. The first thing you did was ask me to buy you stuff.”

“Sam, no, it’s not like that. We’re good together. I know it. You’ll be an amazing father—”

“To someone else’s kid? I’m sorry you feel so desperate you have to lie, but keep me out of it. Good luck, and don’t ever talk to me again.”

I turn and walk away, digging my phone from my jacket pocket. I need to tell Chloe that everything is going to be okay again. Stopping myself at the last second, I call her dad instead.

“Hey, Sam!” Mr. Fisher says cheerfully. “Is Chloe all right?”

“She’s not sick again, if that’s what you’re asking. She had to go back to LA and I want to go surprise her. I don’t have her address, though.”