Karma’s Kiss

Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

After last night, my childhood bedroom is a sanctuary. My Harry Potter sheets are threadbare from being washed eighteen thousand times and my pillow is so mushy it barely supports my head, but in this room, I can almost pretend I’m a child again, problem-free outside of a few puberty pimples and annoying homework assignments.

I could lie here for all of eternity if I had my way, but my anxiety about last night has made it impossible to sleep late. I’m drooling on Hermione’s faded face as vivid memories torture me. My heart rate spikes with each remembered moment. Sawyer’s mouth. His possessive hands. The delicious ache he sated oh so skillfully.

What would have happened if Officer White hadn’t busted us? Would I be waking up in his arms? In his truck?

I throw off my blankets, ignore my pounding headache (hungover doesn’t begin to cover how I feel), and decide I’m going to push through and finish the run I started last night. I need to sweat out the booze and bad decisions.

I change my route this time, hightailing it away from Doc’s and instead looping past my old elementary school and dance studio. Without having had breakfast, I don’t make it as far as I’d hoped, and by the time I’m back at Queenie’s, I’m practically dragging my feet up the front walk.

Inside, my mom is perched in her favorite chair in the living room watching her morning show. Her favorite anchor is talking about the health benefits of eating casseroles (I didn’t think there were any) when Queenie mutes the TV. She’s surveying me with interest.

“Sawyer came by this morning looking for you.” The twinkle in her eyes tells me we’re clearly not done discussing last night. I wrongly assumed I could slink off to bed after Officer White dropped me off on the front porch and that’d be the end of it. “He brought a whole tray of coffees from Golden Harvest and a pastry bag filled to the brim. I already ate one of the cinnamon rolls, but there are a few more in the kitchen.”

What?! Sawyer came here this morning while I was on my run?

“Why’d he do that?” I sound almost distraught.

“I don’t know, hun. From the sounds of it, you two had quite a crazy night. Maybe he just wanted to check up on you?”

“What’d you say to him?” I holler to her from the kitchen as I open the pastry bag and find not just cinnamon rolls but a whole selection of mouthwatering treats.

Panicked, I close the bag and stare at the tray of coffees sitting there waiting for me. On the lids, a thoughtful barista took the time to write all the different drink options: latte, coffee w/ cream, cold brew. Sawyer wanted to make sure I had something I like.

Dammit!

“I asked how his night was and if he got home safe,” my mom yells.

I pluck the latte from the tray and head back into the living room. “I’m sure he got home just fine . From what I understand, Officer White planned to drop him off right after me.”

She hums and gives me a sly smile over the top of her steaming coffee. “Must have been some ride in the back seat of that cop car together. Wish I could have seen it.”

I shudder at the memory. Officer White did all the talking, chastising us about our poor decisions. Sawyer and I couldn’t even look at each other. I was so embarrassed. I assumed Sawyer had sobered up enough to regret what we’d just done together and I didn’t want to see confirmation of that, so I kept my focus out the window. When Officer White pulled up in front of Queenie’s house, I practically wept with relief.

“You sound entirely too amused by this situation,” I say after my first sip of latte. “You’re supposed to reprimand me, you know.”

Queenie arches a brow. “What I don’t understand is what you two were doing before Dylan picked y’all up. What warranted all the fuss? Did you two get into a fight or something?”

“Not exactly…”

“Well you don’t just get arrested over nothing, Madison.”

“We didn’t get arrested.” I’m quick to point this out with an air of superiority. “Just warned.”

“About what?”

I wave away her question. “Something to do with drinking.”

Queenie cracks up at this. “If it had to do with drinking and only drinking, half this town would be getting rides home in the back of Dylan’s car.”

I turn away so my voice is hard to hear. “Okay, it was indecent exposure something or other.”

She cocks her head to the left, leaning her ear toward me. “Come again?”

“Sawyer and I were…together in his truck.”

Queenie’s jaw drops and then she blushes. BLUSHES. Queenie who proudly devours motorcycle sex scenes on her Kindle is officially scandalized by my slutty behavior.

She points a red manicured finger at me. “You better hope you didn’t get pregnant.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not getting pregnant. We used—”

I stop talking. I stop everything, breathing being top of the list. My heart is on pause. My brain is no longer working. Every single fiber of my being is focused on the fact that Sawyer and I didn’t use a condom last night in his truck.

Queenie—upon seeing my expression—leans back in her chair and looks up at the ceiling. “Oh lordy, here we go…”

“Good news, it says your chances are only ‘ good to very good ’. Whereas the last website said it was ‘ highly likely ’. How certain are you that you haven’t been taking birth control?” Kendra asks.

“Uh, pretty freaking sure, Kendra.”

I stopped taking my prescription birth control two months ago. I’d made it perfectly clear to Matthew that I was eager to start a family right after our wedding. While he wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the idea—Matthew’s father didn’t have kids until he was thirty-five, thus Matthew felt that was the perfect age for him to start a family as well—I was confident I’d convince him to come around to my way of thinking.

I told him I wanted to start trying to get pregnant right after the wedding. I even discussed it with my doctor and she recommended I stop taking the pill sooner rather than later if I was really eager to conceive.

After my breakup with Matthew, I forgot to renew my prescription. I’d set a reminder on my phone to call my doctor’s office, but that reminder has been blaring again and again for a few weeks now and I’ve tuned it out, distractedly promising myself I’d get around to it eventually, but now…welp, maybe there’s no point.

Kendra and I have been doing some research online, putting the first day of my last period into various calculators to see whether or not I might be ovulating. We have scoured every corner of the internet. No stone has been left unturned.

“There are options here for you to explore,” Kendra points out. “You aren’t stuck.”

My chest feels tight. “I don’t want to do anything yet. I just need to think.”

“What do you mean you need to think? What is there to think about?”

“I want kids…” I point out weakly.

“Listen, I know that, Madison, but LIKE THIS ?”

I don’t know! It’s unconventional, absolutely no doubt about it, but it’s not totally out of the question. I’ve always thought it would be fun if my children were close in age to their cousins and I know Lindsey and David have talked about trying for baby number two soon. Not to mention, Kendra has Nathan and Ava. She loves being a mom, and I’ve always been a bit envious of that. When Matthew ended our engagement, I assumed I was years away from thinking about children, but maybe this is another way. A blessing.

“I’m considering it…”

Kendra blows out an unsteady breath. “Then you have to talk to Sawyer. He deserves to know what’s going on.”

“You think?”

“Um yes , Madison! You cannot let this turn into an episode of Jerry Springer . Recent events aside, I don’t actually condone duping or lying to your partner. Especially about something this important!”

“Could have fooled me… What was all that ‘teach him a lesson’ nonsense you were spewing last week?”

“Yes well, that was before last night! Now, I want you to do the right thing. Talk to him. Now. Before things get out of hand.”

It would have been convenient to see Sawyer this morning when he came by Queenie’s house with coffees and pastries. I could have seen where his head was at, whether he was regretful about last night or not, before I found myself in this current predicament.

Now, it’s gotten complicated.

Queenie’s all too happy to let me have the morning off from work even with Amber and Michael’s wedding next weekend. “Go. Do what you need to do.”

I take her car and blast old Shania Twain to give me strength as I drive to a pharmacy two towns over—just to ensure I don’t bump into any familiar faces in the “family planning” aisle. After I’ve made my purchases, I go into the crummy bathroom, shove myself into a stall, and read the instructions for the ovulation test under the yellow-tinted fluorescent lights. Simple enough. We’re looking for two dark lines, similar to a pregnancy test.

Except, I can’t do it. My hand shakes as I stare at the box. Do I really want to know one way or another? So soon?

It’d be simpler if I wasn’t ready, if I was feeling the way I should right now: panicked and nauseous. I can’t get over a broken engagement, move states, bounce between jobs, be in a weird situationship, and have an unplanned pregnancy. The Madison McCall at Auburn would have died if she found herself in these circumstances. Peeing on a stick in a public bathroom? Plunging into the unknown? Oh no. Never.

But I’m not that girl anymore.

Weirdly enough, here, at rock bottom, I feel stronger and more independent than I have in years. Living in Matthew’s shadow made me feel small and helpless—I’m so resentful of the position he held over me, that I let myself be put in that role.

There is a way forward here, and it might not be picture perfect, but it’d be quite an adventure. I can make my move back home permanent. I can ask Queenie to bring me on full time. I can be a single mom. I’ve watched Queenie do it for more than a decade; I know what it takes and I’m not scared of the work. Not when I think of the alternative.

I look down at the ovulation kit again, and a surge of hope makes me feel unsteady on my feet.

In the end, I take the test. I find that I’m ovulating, just like Kendra and I determined I would be. And I walk out of that pharmacy bathroom with a dopey smile on my face right up until I get to my car and check my phone to see a missed call from Sawyer.

I know I can’t avoid him forever, but I can’t call him back today, right now! It’s out of the question. I need time to wrap my head around everything before I drag another person into this chaos. He and I still have so much to work out between us without throwing a child into the mix.

A CHILD.

I gulp at the thought of what he’ll do when I tell him there’s a possibility we conceived last night. He’s going to flip out. He might even be mad; a lot of men would be.

Not wanting to go down that murky path right now, I shove my phone back into my purse and bury it deep at the bottom. For today at least, avoidance is the name of the game. I turn Shania way up on my drive home.

Fortunately, there’s too much going on this week at the Wildflower Wedding offices to allow me to wallow in my own feelings for long. Everything is falling to pieces around here. Queenie finally found the slip of paper with her business bank account login information. We’ve been looking for it since I arrived back in town.

What I find on her online banking portal is nothing short of disastrous. I try to remain calm as I explain, “Your accounts are overdrawn and your business credit card is maxed out. How can that be?”

I look at Queenie over my shoulder. She’s squinting at the figures on my screen like they’re hieroglyphics that mean nothing to her.

“Didn’t you send out invoices this month, Marge?” Queenie asks.

“Invoices?” It’s like Marge has never heard the word before.

I try not to panic. I spend the next three hours combing through records and correcting old, never-sent invoices because as it currently stands, Queenie can’t pay her bills this month. She also can’t run payroll. Marge and Queenie don’t seem to think this is a big deal. As if paying rent and overhead is just something that will happen on its own.

“Should we get sandwiches for lunch?” Marge inquires mildly.

Queenie hums in agreement.

“You can’t afford sandwiches!” I cry, desperate for them to understand how bad this is. Queenie isn’t running her company properly. This place is a house of cards waiting to collapse. How does no one else see it?!

“Okay, everyone calm down,” Queenie says, giving Marge a private look that clearly says What’s up with her? “I’m going to run out for some Schlotzsky’s, and once we eat, we can worry about everything else.”

After lunch, we have to switch gears though. Queenie and I form an assembly line putting together Michael and Amber’s welcome bags. I’ve seen my fair share of wedding swag while working at Evermore Events, but the items they’ve selected are excellent. It’s clear Michael and Amber really want to spoil their guests. We layer in an assortment of luxury items everyone will love: La Mer night cream, small bottles of Veuve Clicquot, gourmet nuts and popcorn, and organic honey from Gwyneth Paltrow’s bees. (Who knew Gwyneth Paltrow even had bees?)

No wonder our credit card is maxed out. Marge should have invoiced Amber and Michael for these items weeks ago when they were originally ordered. While I stew, Marge is really on one about the amount of meat Schlotzsky’s put on her sandwich at lunch.

“I’m telling you, they skimped. They’re doing it with everything these days! I swear this can of Coke is smaller than the one I bought last week.”

“Shrinkflation, they call it.” Queenie nods.

“Does this Coke look small to you, Madison?”

She holds it up beside her head as if that’s a good metric for measurement. It looks like a standard-issue can of Coke, but I’m not about to go against Marge. “Tiny.”

“See?!” She shakes her head. “I’m calling them. Do you guys know the number?”

“For Coke ?” I sound incredulous. I want to shout, We have bigger problems!

Marge nods, already reaching for the phone on her desk. “Someone’s gonna hear what I have to say.”

Between the welcome bags and Marge’s hunt to contact a higher-up at the Coca-Cola Company, the afternoon flies. Marge, to her credit, manages to find the number for the vice president of distribution, but she’s forced to leave a message with his secretary’s secretary. “You just let him know Marge Buchanan called and I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Got plans for the evening?” Queenie asks when it’s quitting time.

I’m still glued to my desk. I can’t leave until I get these invoices done. I’m about to tell Queenie this but when I look up, I see she’s eyeing my purse and the ovulation tests gently peeking out. I shove them back in and shake my head.

“I’ll be here.”

She purses her lips but otherwise keeps her opinions to herself.

It serves a dual purpose to stay late at the Wildflower Weddings offices. I can chip away at my mountain of tasks and also ensure I’m safe if Sawyer decides to show up on Queenie’s doorstep. After all, he brought the coffee and pastries this morning and he’s called me a few times today. It’s not out of the question that he’d try to see me again tonight, but it’s another day before we bump into each other organically.

I’m walking out of Golden Harvest the next morning, on the phone with Kendra—complaining to her about the current state of my mom’s business—when I see his truck pull up into the parking spot out in front of the coffee shop. My nerves seem close to bursting out of me.

“Kendra…I gotta go.”

I’ve already stopped dead on the sidewalk, but now I hang up and let the phone slide from my ear as Sawyer steps out of his vehicle. Handsome, put together, the man of my dreams . When he spots me, he stills for only a second before he slams his car door. His warm gaze slides down me, like he’s checking to see if I’m all right before he walks over.

“So you’re alive,” he notes casually. “Wasn’t sure since you didn’t return any of my calls.”

I cringe. “Yesterday was hectic…”

It’s not even a lie.

He nods and looks off, clearly annoyed with me.

“You doing okay?” I ask lightly.

His expression darkens. Somehow, I’ve offended him with the question.

“We should talk,” he states plainly.

Oh hell. Here we go.

I swallow past the nerves tightening my throat. “I agree. Yeah. Tonight?”

“Can’t. I’m leaving town this afternoon for a buddy’s bachelor party. Won’t be back until late Sunday.”

“That’s okay!” I almost sound too happy about the fact that he’s leaving town and giving me a whole weekend to ruminate on my decision going forward, so I tone it down as I continue, “Why don’t I reach out next week?”

His expression displays his frustration, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s so hard to read him. Is he upset I’m not willing to push more? Wishing he could be done with me altogether?

With a nod toward Golden Harvest, he asks, “You getting coffee?”

I hold up my latte and smile weakly. “Beat you to it.”

With that, he steps toward the door of the coffee shop, but it feels like I can’t just let him go like that. “Sawyer.”

He looks back at me over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, not wanting to hear it. “We’ll talk next week.”

Saturday night, I’m sitting beneath the red and white twinkle lights on the patio of my family’s favorite Mexican restaurant. We’ve been coming here since I was a kid, and all the waiters know us. Too well in fact.

“Margarita pitcher? Salt on the glasses?” Matt asks the table.

It’s our usual MO, but not tonight. I’m about to say I’m not drinking, but Lindsey actually speaks up first.

“None for me tonight.”

She slyly looks at David, and he smiles and leans over to squeeze her leg beneath the table. Sure, she could be skipping margaritas for a slew of reasons, but I can’t help but wonder if she’s newly pregnant.

David looks to me. “You in?”

I shake my head and quickly pick up my menu, hoping he won’t question me about it.

“Well Queenie, looks like we’ll have to hold it down for everyone tonight.”

I’m quieter than usual, happy to let David and Mom chatter away while I watch Cruz enjoy the small jungle gym the restaurant was smart enough to install just beside the patio. It’s one of the reasons the restaurant’s a fan favorite in our town. Parents can come have dinner while their kids run around, wild and free.

“I’ll be back,” I tell the group, heading down to join Cruz.

He’s very busy toddling after big kids, but once he sees me, he points to the swing, telling me in his sweet one-year-old babble what I can only assume means, “Swing me NOW.”

I plop him into the swing and get it going, then once the momentum is carrying him back and forth, I come around to the front and play peekaboo every time he swings close to me. Not to brag, but my silly faces get a laugh every single time, and my already overly emotional heart melts even more.

“Do you think I’d be a good mom, Cruz?”

Cruz kicks his feet with glee as I push him higher.

“I could have one of you, couldn’t I?”

I wouldn’t be alone. I know Queenie would basically act as a co-parent with me, helping if I ever needed it.

“Do you want a little cousin to play with?”

He claps his hands, which obviously means he’s on my side.

While I’m helping him climb up a short ladder to a slide, Lindsey joins us.

“You’re so good with him,” she says with a smile. “You know we’re all so glad you’re back in town. You’re not planning on leaving again, are you?”

Cruz squeezes my hand as he finishes climbing the last stair. “No, actually. I’m probably here to stay.”

“You hear that, Cruz?! Your auntie Maddie might be sticking around for good!”

My weekend without Sawyer starts out nice. I’m able to revel in all the joyful hope of what could be without feeling crushed by the weight of worry about what Sawyer is going to say once I finally tell him the truth. But by Sunday evening, I’m too antsy to appreciate the peace anymore. I want to get it over with, rip off the Band-Aid, endure the awkwardness and figure out a way to come out the other side.

My impatience has me driving Queenie’s car out to Starlight Vineyards first thing Monday morning. There’s probably a better time and place to have this conversation, but I can’t wait another minute. I need to talk to Sawyer and I want to do it in person, before I lose the nerve.

When I pull up and park, I find the vineyard busier than I’ve ever seen it. Men work efficiently, loading crates of wine into the back of Starlight Vineyards delivery trucks. A group of women are being led around on an early-morning vineyard tour, glasses already in hand. Small Gator UTVs haul in grapes freshly plucked from the vines. (They aren’t relegated to the metal buckets like I was. Ha. )

No one pays me any attention as I set off to look for Sawyer. The chapel’s empty and I’m too scared to go into the other industrial buildings where busy workers pour in and out. I don’t want to be in anyone’s way. The tasting room seems like as good a place to search as any, and I luck out when I tug the door open and peer inside. Sawyer’s standing with a small group. Seeing him in a button-down and blue slacks is an unexpected gift. Last time we were together together, we were disheveled in the front seat of his truck, and when I bumped into him on the sidewalk on Friday, he was in his usual work clothes.

This is Sawyer the businessman, the future heir to a wine empire. I almost forget he has that side of him, but he fully looks the part.

I recognize another person in the group, a handsome older man with deeply tanned skin and a stature that’s a perfect match for Sawyer’s. I haven’t seen Mr. Garnett in a few years. He used to be David and Sawyer’s Little League baseball coach and I remember him always being nice to me after the games, tousling my hair and making sure I got the same post-game treat the boys got: orange slices and Ring Pops, or if it was a morning game, a warm glazed donut.

The rest of the group has badges pinned on the lapels of their suits. I recognize the logo of the nationwide liquor store chain printed on them right away, as anyone would. This meeting is obviously significant, but it’s too late to slink off undetected now. Good going, Madison. The door creaked loud enough to call attention to me when I first peeked in, but I offer a small don’t-mind-me wave and make it clear I’ll hover near the entrance until they’re finished. I don’t want to screw up this opportunity for Sawyer.

It’s his dad who stares at me with curiosity after the others return to their discussion, and once the meeting wraps up, he walks straight to me with a big, welcoming smile.

“Madison McCall, your mama said you were back in town, but I didn’t believe it.”

I grin. “Sawyer didn’t tell you we’ve been hanging out?”

A crease forms between his brows. “No. My son failed to mention that. Though I should have realized something was up when I caught wind of that picnic he set up in the vineyard the other week. The guys were ribbing him about it.”

At the mention of that night, I glance down at my feet, slightly uncomfortable. “It was nice of him.”

“Well I’m sure he’ll be glad you stopped by.”

“If he’s busy, I can come back.”

Mr. Garnett pats my shoulder and I peer up again. “Nah, that boy’s not too busy for you.” Then he turns back to address the group. “If you all’d like to follow me, we can head over to the bottling room and you can see the exclusive labels we’ve printed for your wines. Sawyer, you can catch up with us in a bit.”

The group trickles out after Mr. Garnett, but Sawyer lingers, waiting until the door swings shut behind the last person, and then finally, he looks at me. We’re still half a room away from each other, far enough that I can’t discern the look in his eyes, but I see his jaw tense.

He speaks first. “If you’re coming to try to apologize again, I don’t want to hear it.”

I chuckle. Point taken. I guess we’re being straight shooters today. “All right.”

“And if you’ve come here wanting me to apologize, you won’t be getting that either.” His hands on his hips prove he’s in an obstinate mood.

I chance a little smile, trying to ease the tension a bit. “Well there goes all my negotiating power. I was prepared to arrive with my tail between my legs and give you a proper explanation for everything. It was foolish of me to even entertain Kendra’s silly idea, but I did and that’s my fault.”

His eyes narrow suspiciously. “Now see that sounds an awful lot like an apology to me.”

I almost laugh, but I manage to keep a straight face. “It’s not okay what I did. I should have never agreed to go out with you under those circumstances.”

He hums, annoyed that I’m pressing the issue, but if this is my one chance to put everything out there, I need to air it all: the good, the bad, the ugly.

“It’s true that I agreed to our first date because she pressured me into it, but truth be told, I was interested in you. It didn’t take long for me to realize what a horrible idea—”

He cuts me off. “I did way worse to you.” His dark brows furrow in frustration. “And I feel guilty as hell for the way I treated you once I found out about your silly plan with Kendra. It’s why I’m ashamed to even discuss it. Don’t keep apologizing or I’ll only feel worse.”

I smile and tip my head to the side, wondering about something, a question that’s been running through my mind the last few days. “Why’d you bring that coffee over to Queenie’s house the other morning?”

He straightens and squares his shoulders. It looks almost like he’s erecting armor around himself. “I wanted to check up on you. It’s not every day a girl gets arrested…”

“We didn’t get arrested !” I exclaim, annoyed that everyone keeps saying so.

He flashes his dimples. “No, instead we had to listen to Officer White reprimand us about practicing safe sex, which was worse if you ask me. I’d have rather been tossed in the slammer. We upset Santa Claus .” He says the last part in a whisper like we’ve committed a deeply shameful offense.

I burst out laughing and give in to the urge to walk toward him, glad when he meets me halfway.

“I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again. And forget about going to the Christmas parade.”

“It was dark,” Sawyer insists. “I doubt he saw anything.”

“Just my butt cheeks,” I tease.

Sawyer shakes his head, still grinning.

“What’d Queenie have to say about it?”

The mention of Queenie brings a flood of panic about the hard parts of our conversation we’ve yet to get to. I chew on my bottom lip wondering if this is the perfect segue to launch into it. I’d rather not, of course. We’ve reached a sort of tenuous peace here, one that might last if I only walk away here and now. I’m almost tempted to take the coward’s way out and make this a problem for future Madison, but I spent the weekend agonizing and I can’t let this continue to draw out, appealing as it might be.

Sawyer’s expression sobers as he sees me warring with indecision. I realize I’ve been wringing my hands and I let them drop back by my sides. “Queenie didn’t say much. It’s not like she can ground me or anything…” Now. Do it. “But there is something else I need to tell you.”

My heart pounds ceaselessly in my chest, so fast and out of control it almost hurts.

His mouth tightens into a speculating frown. “All right.”

“About the other night…what we did.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, waiting for me to get on with it. I glance behind me to make sure we’re still alone in the tasting room before I clasp my hands in front of me and stare at a speck of dirt on the ground. Better than meeting his eyes…

“I’m not sure if you realized we didn’t use protection.”

There’s an unbearably long pause, and I’m forced to glance up at him.

His expression has tightened, those warm brown eyes so impossible to read. “I’m aware, and I’m really sorry about that. I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”

Right. That issue hadn’t even occurred to me with everything else going on.

“Yes, well…I’m glad to hear that, but you probably assumed I was on something, a pill…but I’m not.”

I see the rise and fall of his chest, study his carefully guarded expression. I wonder how much he’s panicking inside right now, mentally calculating pregnancy odds the same way I did with Kendra.

I don’t want to keep going, but I have to. “There’s a chance…”

“Okay—”

I hold out my hand quickly to cut him off, not wanting him to say something I’ll never be able to unhear. I just need to finish this so he knows where I stand and then he can make his decision from there.

“I know there are things we can do. But…I was wondering, well I was thinking that maybe I wouldn’t do any of them. Maybe I’d just see what happens.”

My chin rises as I hold myself steady and guarded against his impending reaction to this unexpected news.

His eyes widen and his skin flushes, those handsome high cheekbones stained pink with color. “You’re thinking…”

“I don’t know,” I answer hastily. “I just don’t want to have to make a decision about it right now.”

This is a small lie. I know what I want to do, what I’m hoping for even this very minute, but I don’t want to scare him so I’ll make it sound like I’m still mulling things over. “I’d like to think on it for a little while. But I want to be perfectly clear that my decision doesn’t have to affect you in any way.” He needs to know that now, before he starts really freaking out. “I know it must be unexpected and scary to hear all of this, and I’m not trying to twist you up into anything. You can think of the other night as a donation.”

“ A donation? ” he sputters like he finds the idea ludicrous.

Now I’m pressing my lips together, restraining my smile. It sounds ridiculous to hear him repeat it back to me. “I’m just trying to explain that you’re off the hook. I’m not going to shake you down for child support for the next eighteen years or anything because of one careless night we shared.”

His jaw tenses. “Madison McCall, what kind of man do you think I am?” An angry one by the looks of it. “I want to be a dad. I always have. This is…a little different than I imagined it.” He rubs the back of his neck as he continues, “But I can adapt.”

I want to grin, but something holds me back: disbelief and skepticism, the inability to believe he could possibly be on board with this too.

“Really?” I ask with a hard stare.

But he’s smiling, unwilling to shrink under my intense gaze, and it feels like there’s a connection between us, something I could reach out and strum with my fingers if I tried.

“Really,” he replies confidently.

I blink away my shock, confused by this turn of events. I had a whole plan of attack, a way to assure him this wouldn’t affect him, promises to leave him out of it completely. I never allowed myself to hope he might be on the same page.

Now I find I’m the one tempering both of our hopes. “I won’t know for sure whether I’m pregnant for a few weeks. Not to get all scientific with you, but I’m ovulating right now.”

Sawyer nods with a look of intense concentration. “So then in a few weeks, we’ll know.”

I nod.

“But if you’re ovulating still, maybe we should—”

My jaw drops. “ Sawyer! ”

He looks mighty proud of himself for his suggestion. “Just saying…if we’re already fine with the idea, we might as well help ensure it happens.”

He wants a repeat of the other night? Do I?

I shake my head firmly. “No. That’s…that’s not a good idea.” My heart’s already fluttering enough as it is. I’m embarrassed by how easily I could get carried away, how simple it would be to let myself fall in love with Sawyer. “We should just take it easy until we know for sure one way or another. That way things don’t get overly complicated between us. It’s only been about five minutes since we finished up our last fight, you know.”

He tips his head from side to side, mulling this over before he agrees. “All right. So we’re friends?”

“Sure. Friends. For the next little while at least.”

His hand reaches out for mine so we can shake on this new agreement, and I can’t believe where this conversation has taken us. I thought I’d shock the daylights out of him with this pregnancy scare, but it’s been the exact opposite. It’s like he’s as excited about it as I am.

He looks me over, concentrating hard all of a sudden. “Now correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you supposed to be taking pregnancy vitamins or something?”