But they won’t.
They’re far too conservative to happily accept a pregnancy out of wedlock. And I’m far too confused to even tell them yet. Especially when I still have no clue what plans the father has made.
I stare at Josh’s house, dreading the way he’ll look at me in his condescending manner. I’m sure he blames me for all of this. I was the one to provide the dodgy condom, after all. And if I would’ve given it more thought, I’d have realized that it was at least two years old because I got it when I went to one of Kate’s book signings in Florida ages ago. Clearly, I wasn’t in my right state of mind that night with Josh. And now I have a baby to show for it.
I pull out my phone to text Dean.
Me: Last chance to rescind your invitation to let my pregnant ass in your single dude residence.
Dean: New phone. Who dis?
Me: You suck so much.
Dean: Lynsey, stop. I’m joking.
Me: My entire life is a joke, so it’s hard to tell what’s funny and what’s not these days.
Dean: Your life is not a joke. In fact, this could all turn out pretty amazing if we let it.
Me: You really think so?
Dean: I know so.
Me: Well, after one night with my parents, I’m already googling how to get away with murder, so if your offer still stands, I just might be desperate enough to take you up on it.
Dean: You’re my best friend, Lyns. I can help you through this. Now go dump that baby daddy and call me when you’re ready to move your shit over here.
With a renewed sense of determination, I get out of my car and walk up the five stone steps to Josh’s front door. I didn’t even notice the neighborhood when I was here before. I guess it’s kind of hard to see the sights when you have a hot doctor with a big dick pressed against your body.
It’s a quiet cul-de-sac with small, well-cared-for homes. Each one has its own mountain-style charm with rustic stone accents and natural siding. It’s not exactly where I’d have pictured Dr. Dick when I first met him. I’d have pegged him more for a sparkling new, overpriced condo in the new construction areas of Boulder. These homes look like they were built in the sixties and have been really nicely updated.
Josh’s door is flanked by two stone pillars, and the front is half stone, half cedar siding. It’s cute. Maybe the good doctor has had some time to decorate the inside since I was here last.
I ring the bell and hold my breath until the door swings open to reveal Dr. Josh Richardson. Also known as my baby’s daddy.
When I saw him a few days ago in the ER, I didn’t really have time to take in the sight of him. But he’s every bit as hot as I remember him to be that night.
I gaze at his tall form. He might actually be hotter. No wonder I’m pregnant. One look at him and my ovaries are screaming to reproduce with this man even though I already have.
Good God, what the hell am I thinking? Is this my hormones talking or just my normal level of crazy? Probably something I should figure out in therapy someday.
He stands before me barefoot in a pair of well-worn jeans. His chest is covered in a fitted gray sweater that’s rolled at the sleeves, revealing an expensive watch and muscular, veined forearms. His sandy brown hair is mussed and damp as though he just got out of the shower, and his eyes are greener than I remember.
“Hi, Lynsey.” Josh’s tone is crisp and all business.
Dr. Dick, I reply in my mind while my lips say, “Hey, Josh.”
“Come in,” he says, stepping back to give me a wide berth.
I make my way inside, glancing up at the rustic exposed beams in the vaulted ceiling. Under my feet is wide plank wood flooring that looks original to the old home, and interestingly enough, the living room doesn’t look a whole lot different than it did the last time I was here. “I like what you’ve done with the place.” I unzip my coat and point at the lonely white chair by the stone fireplace.
“I’m not much of a decorator.” When he reaches for my coat, our hands brush, eliciting an electric pulse all the way through my body.
Chill the fuck out, stupid pregnancy hormones. We’re supposed to hate this guy!
Seemingly unaffected, he turns to tuck it into the entryway closet while I nervously tug on my teal slouchy sweater that took me thirty minutes to find in my suitcases this morning. Who knew finding an outfit to meet up with your one-night stand turned baby daddy would be so hard?
I walk into the living room, and my eyes widen when I see the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows. That night I was here, I never noticed that his house was built at the top of a bluff and offers sweeping views of the Boulder skyline and the Front Range. Through the windows, a large deck wraps the back of the house, loaded with cozy furniture that’s covered up for the winter.
“You have more furniture outside than inside,” I point out dumbly.
“It came with the house,” he says from right behind me, eliciting a little jump from me.
A slight shudder runs through me when I catch a whiff of his spicy aftershave. He has his hands stuffed in his pockets, and the way he’s looking at me makes me feel two feet tall.
“Can I get a water maybe?” I croak, my nerves causing all the spit in my mouth to turn to cotton.
His brow furrows before he turns on his heel and heads to his kitchen, giving me room to breathe.
God, this is awkward. The urge to leave pushes at me so badly, but I need to at least confirm the fact that he doesn’t want anything to do with the baby. I don’t want to be raising this kid on my own and have him show up out of the blue asking to play catch with the little guy.
Or girl.
Oh my God.
Do I want a boy or a girl? I’ve never even had a boyfriend long enough to ponder these kinds of things. I’ve only recently given it the gender-neutral term, peanut.
Josh returns, handing me a bottle of water. “Do you want to sit down?” he asks, gesturing toward the chair. “How’s your ankle?”
I move away from him and wave him off. “It’s fine. The swelling has gone down a lot already.”
“Good.” He gestures to the chair again, and I sit because…well, knowing how klutzy I am, sitting is probably wise when I’m in the presence of this domineering man. I chug half the water and try to ignore the fact that he’s watching me again.
“How are you feeling?” Josh paces the empty room in front of me.
“Fine, I guess,” I reply meekly. “I mean…now that I know I’m pregnant, I’m fine. I still can’t believe I was walking around like those women on that show I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant. Can you imagine if I’d have just popped into the ER six months from now, complaining of abdominal pain, and you would have been like…oh, bt dubs…you’re having a baby right now.”
Josh hits me with a flat look. “I have never used the phrase bt dubs.”
“It means by the way.”
“I know what bt dubs means. I’m just saying I’ve never used it.”
“Okay, you’re hip,” I state defensively and shake my head because we’ve gotten off track. “All I’m saying is now that I know I’m pregnant, I understand why I’ve been feeling a bit off these past couple of months.”
“What are your symptoms?” he asks.