“Just…water would be nice,” she said.

We gathered ourselves together and I handed her some toilet paper to clean herself with. We straightened our clothes up in the mirror and I unlocked the door, sticking my head out to see if anyone was there. Once there was no one watching, I took Delilah’s hand and led us to our table. There were glasses of water and a chilled bottle of white wine settled for us, and I held her hand as she sat down into her chair.

Delilah grabbed her water and began to chug, droplets of water falling from the side of her lips and dripping down her neck.

“Oh my gosh,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

But all I could do was watch those trails find their home between her tits.

“Don’t worry,” I said with a grin. “They’re just laying a trail for my tongue to caress later.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk with you about,” Delilah said.

“Can’t get enough?” I asked.

“Actually, I think we got more than we bargained for.”

I looked up into her eyes as a darkness crossed over them. There was a sadness looming behind her eyes, beneath the nausea and the upturned nose. Did something stink to her? I sniffed the air to see if there was a putrid smell tainting the air around us. But then I began to drop the pieces in place.

The nausea. The hesitancy. The need to talk. The aversion to smells.

“Delilah?” I asked.

“I’m so sorry, Preston,” she said breathlessly.

Tears were rising to her eyes as I leaned back in my chair.

“Delilah,” I said. “What is it you have to tell me?”

I watched her close her eyes as she grabbed her water again, taking another long pull that sent me reeling. I looked over at the bottle of wine. Chilled and unopened. I had planned on spoiling her tonight. On treating her to the finest foods and the most decadent wine pairings before taking her home and having my way with her. The breakfast plans I had of decorating my kitchen island with her fell to the wayside as my world began to turn upside down.

I knew what she was going to say. I just needed her to confirm it. To say it out loud. To materialize it so I couldn’t talk myself out of it.

“I’m pregnant, Preston,” she said. “About seven weeks along, to be exact.”

Fifteen

Preston

I felt the entire world recede behind me as I swallowed hard. Seven weeks? If that was true, there was no denying she was carrying my child. Delilah didn’t strike me as the kind of girl to sleep with more than one man in a weekend. Hell, she didn’t strike me as the kind of girl that had ever slept with more than one man! The noises of the restaurant faded into the background as Delilah’s face came into view. The worry in her eyes. The trembling of her hands. The pictures she was pulling out of her purse.

Oh shit. She had ultrasound pictures.

“That’s not all,” she said.

Her voice sounded so far away as she slid the pictures towards me.

I took them within my fingertips and scanned them. There were black and white pictures fading in and out. Like someone was turning on and off a light. I blinked and grabbed my water, taking a big gulp to try and steady myself. Now I was the one feeling nauseous. Now I was the one that felt the world was about to tip over.

I studied the pictures more, taking in the notes the doctor had made. There were numbers on the picture next to little sacs with dots in them. So tiny I almost couldn’t discern them. But the numbers were clear. The date of the ultrasound and the predicted conception date fell right in line with the night we had spent together.

But those fucking numbers on the pictures. There were three of them.

“Three?” I asked.

“Mr. Walker, I had her triple-check everything, no pun intended. I knew she had to be wrong, so I went to another doctor. I had another round of tests done with another ultrasound.”

She pulled out another line of pictures and slowly handed them to me.

Tags: Nicole Elliot Romance
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