Hollywood Prince (Hollywood Royalty 3)

I grab my keys and rush out of my house and go to her. I run up the steps and ring the bell, and after one second, I knock. I don’t hear anything, but then I look out into the parking lot to make sure her car is there. I turn again and knock when I hear the lock click. She opens her door just a touch, and I see that her face is so white, and her lips are even whiter. “Are you sick?”

“Yeah,” she says softly. “It’s like my body just realized I’m pregnant and now the morning sickness starts,” she says. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to talk,” I tell her, and she nods. But then her eyes go wide, and she turns to run away, leaving the door open. I follow her, but the bathroom door is closed and locked. “Erin,” I say softly, and then I hear her getting sick. I grab my phone and google what I can do for morning sickness. I turn and go to her kitchen and try to find crackers, but there isn’t much. I walk back to the bathroom and hear her getting sick again. “I’m going to be right back,” I tell her, and I don’t know if she is grunting to tell me she heard me or to get sick again. I rush out of the apartment and go to the closest store, pulling up Google. I grab a cart and rush through the aisles, throwing things in the cart. I check out and carry the bags to the car, then go back over to Erin’s. I knock on the door, and she opens it, and the color is returning to her face but it’s still white. “I’ve got some things,” I say, holding up the bags in my hands, and she walks away from the door and goes to the couch.

“What did you get?” she asks.

“I got a whole bunch of things to help. Saltines, ginger ale, ginger tea, ginger root. Also, I got some prenatal vitamins for you,” I tell her, grabbing the box of crackers and walking up to her. “This should help.” I sit on the table in front of her.

“Thank you, but you shouldn’t have done that. Someone probably snapped pictures of you buying prenatal vitamins, Carter,” she whispers. “What are you doing here?” She looks up and shivers, and I pull my jacket off and slip it over her shoulders.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to speak before you ran out,” I tell her, and she looks down at the pack of crackers in her hands. “We need to talk.”

“There really isn’t much to say,” she says to me. “I’m pregnant.”

“We are pregnant,” I tell her.

“Pretty sure I’m the one carrying the baby,” she tells me. Opening the crackers, she grabs one and puts it in her mouth. I reach out to push her hair away, but she moves out of the way to make sure I don’t touch her.

“We need to talk,” I tell her.

“There really isn’t much to talk about. The result is still the same,” she says, folding her legs under her. “I’m pregnant.”

“How far along are you?” I ask her. I want to know everything. “Do you feel the baby moving?”

“I have no idea. Maybe like a month,” she answers and then throws the crackers down and runs to the bathroom. This time, I take off with her, and I reach out and hold her hair back.

I squat next to her and rub her back. “Can you go away?” she croaks.

“No,” I say. “Never again.” She looks at me and shakes her head and slowly gets up, walking to the sink and leaning down to take a couple of sips of water and rinse out her mouth.

I walk out with her and grab a can of ginger ale, bringing it to her. “I never slept with her.” I say the five words that I’ve been repeating in my head since she walked out of my house. Her eyes look at me with tears, but I don’t stop. “It was all a lie.”

“What?” she asks, getting up now and walking away from me.

“I fucked up because I believed something that wasn’t true,” I tell her. “Honestly, that is what it comes down to.” She looks at me, shaking her head.

“You broke my heart on purpose.” She holds her chest, and I want to kick my own ass.

“It was a misunderstanding,” I tell her. “Jennifer told me that you were taking a job in New York at that party.” Looking at her, I say, “It was a misunderstanding.”

“It was a misunderstanding? You had a naked fucking woman in your bed and a condom wrapper on the table by the bed,” she points out, a sob escaping from her. “Why?”