Love Me (One Night with Sole Regret 12)

“At least you’re getting interviews. What kind of job are you looking for?”

“Finance. Or banking.” She cringed. Being a teller or approving loan applications was not her idea of a good time. “Preferably finance.”

“A numbers girl?”

She nodded. She loved the predictability of numbers in the unpredictable world of the stock market.

“I’m sure you’ll land the perfect job soon,” he said.

“I hope you’re right. The problem is that the second I walk in there all hugely pregnant, my resume looks a bit less impressive.”

“They can’t discriminate against you, can they?”

“As long as it doesn’t look that way on paper, they’re in the clear.”

“When are you due?”

He was staring at her belly as if an alien might burst out at any moment. And as active as the baby was, she was thinking one might. “In ten weeks.”

“I haven’t met Owen’s new girlfriend yet, but I’d have to say he’s a complete moron if he chooses her over you.”

“I think once Owen holds our baby, he’ll have a change of heart.” She jumped when a small foot or fist jabbed her insides. “The sound of your voice makes him turn cartwheels.”

He extended the palm of his uninjured hand toward her belly. “May I?”

She placed his hand over the baby’s roaming foot.

“Wow,” he said, leaning closer. “I’m your Uncle Chad. When you get out of there, I’ll teach you how to make life difficult for my punky little brother.”

Lindsey blamed hormones again for the sudden rush of tears that sprang to her eyes. Chad believed as much as she did that the baby was Owen’s. Of course, he didn’t know the whole story. He knew that the baby might be someone else’s, but he didn’t know that she’d engaged in wild sex with every person on the Sole Regret tour bus Christmas Eve, and she wanted to keep it that way. She wasn’t sure she could handle Chad thinking less of her. It was hard enough knowing that her father thought she was a whore, that her mother refused to speak to her, and that women she once thought of as friends talked about her behind her back. She wanted this man to keep his illusion of normalcy a bit longer. Well, as normal as becoming an uncle to his brother’s unwanted baby could be.

“Have you picked out a name yet?” he asked.

“Liam,” she said, surprised it popped out of her mouth so easily. She hadn’t even shared that with Owen yet.

Chad lifted both eyebrows. “And Owen is okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“He must not have told you about Liam from high school. The jerk that got the entire school calling Owen Oinky McPiggerston.”

Lindsey scowled. “Why would anyone do something so mean?” Especially to someone as sweet as Owen Mitchell.

“High school jerks always pick on fat kids.”

“Fat? Owen was fat?” He sure wasn’t overweight any longer. He looked like some high paid underwear model, which had made it even easier to hop into bed with him.

Chad shrugged. “I didn’t really notice. He was just Owen to me.” He shifted away and turned his attention to the movie that was back on after the commercial break.

“So I guess Liam is out,” she said.

“Liam is out of what?” Owen said, entering without bothering to knock.

“She was going to name your kid Liam.”

Owen licked his lips and gestured to Lindsey. “Can I talk to you out in the hall for a moment?”

“Keeping secrets from your big brother?” Chad asked.

Owen shook his head. “I don’t think she’ll want to discuss this in front of you.”

What could it possibly be? If he didn’t want to name the baby Liam, that was fine. She wasn’t that attached to the idea. Cringing, Lindsey rolled off the bed.

“I’ll be back in a few,” Owen said, leaving the room with Lindsey following behind.

“Bring back more Cheez-Its!” Chad called out.

Once they were in the cool sterile-white hallway, Lindsey said, “We don’t have to name the baby Liam.”

“That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what?” Lindsey asked

“I just got a call from the clinic. About the paternity test.”

Lindsey’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t gauge from his expression if it was good news or bad news. Honestly, she didn’t even know what he would consider to be good news. He seemed to be coming around to the idea of being a father. Or maybe she was just wishful thinking again.

“Even though the baby’s not mine—”

Lindsey’s legs went weak, and she would have dropped to the floor if Owen hadn’t grabbed her arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Maybe you should sit down.”

It wasn’t his? But it had to be his. It just had to be.

She was vaguely aware of being led to a chair and pressed into it. She leaned forward, breathing hard, feeling as if she would throw up the few Cheez-Its churning about in her belly.

It had to be his. Those tests weren’t foolproof, were they? It was a mistake. This baby was Owen’s. She knew it was his. She knew—

A sob broke free of her strangled throat, and Owen dropped down in the chair beside her. He rubbed her back.

“I want you to know that you still have a place to stay, Lindsey. If the biological father doesn’t take responsibility, I won’t turn my back on you. Okay? I’ll help you in any way I can.”

And that was exactly why she wanted this baby to be his. This was the type of man she wanted to father her children. This was the type of man she wanted to marry, to love forever.

“Oh God,” she whispered, pressing fingertips to her trembling lips. What was she going to do? “I can’t ask that of you. I’ll figure something out.”

“You’re not asking anything of me. I’m volunteering.”

Why did he have to be so sweet? It made it so incredibly hard not to want him.

“Did they tell you . . .” She sucked in a deep breath. “Did they tell you who?”

He shook his head. “They only told me my own results.”

Was she imagining things, or did he look a little saddened by the news?

Lindsey tried swallowing down her tears; she didn’t want to make him feel even sorrier for her than he already did. She wanted to be strong. To stand on her own feet. To be one of those amazing single mothers who did it all on her own. That was her new goal. It seemed completely impossible and hopeless, but she’d figure it out. She didn’t have a choice if she wanted to raise this child, and she did. She wanted to be a fantastic mother, even if the fantastic father of her dreams—sitting right next to her—was well out of her reach.

Owen lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe at her tears. “Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re off the hook.”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It isn’t your fault your sperm are duds.” She grinned, trying to make light of the situation. Hoping that by laughing, she’d stop crying.

“Hey!” Owen poked her in that brotherly teasing manner of his. And maybe that was all his feelings toward her had ever been—brotherly. “I’m sure my sperm are excellent swimmers.”

After several deep breaths, she sank back into the chair and tried to think. “I figured they’d call me before calling the candidate fathers.”

Candidate. Ugh, what an awful way to think of the father of her child. The sad thing was that the only candidate she’d been willing to accept wasn’t the father.

“Maybe they left a message,” Owen said.

She gasped. “That call I let go to voice mail!”

She’d left her purse in Chad’s room, which meant she had to face him. Tell him he wasn’t going to be an uncle after all. At least not by blood.

“Are you okay?” Owen asked, squeezing her elbow.

“It isn’t the outcome I’d hoped for, but that’s only becau

se you are such a wonderful man. How could I not wish it was yours? I’ll be fine. No matter who the father is, I love this baby. And as shitty as my life has become since I got pregnant, I know this child will be the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“I know I don’t have a say in this, but can you promise me one thing?”