Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,96

with two guys in the same week.” It didn’t sound any better than she’d imagined it would.

He said, “You went back to that boyfriend?” Which was not the question she’d figured would come next.

“What? No. Of course not.”

“Oh.” Something in his face changed. “Somebody else.”

“Seriously? I went back to Wild Horse with my stitches and my crutches and hooked up with some guy I met in a bar, because I was convinced said random guy would also provide me with mind-blowing orgasms, as had happened in my previous life precisely never? No. At least—no. I broke up with my boyfriend two days before I met you, though, remember? And even though our date matches with what the sonogram showed, I need to be sure. You need to be sure, before I ask you for anything.”

“Wow.” He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “You know what? Let’s get something to drink. I need a second here.”

He was only breathing because it was an autonomic function that didn’t require conscious effort. He thought, Drink, headed to the kitchen, grabbed a plastic bottle out of the fridge, and asked, “Do you want one?”

“Chocolate milk?” she asked, with a funny look on her face.

“Yeah. Recovery drink. Probably good for … for pregnancy, too. It’s organic.”

Pregnancy.

“Or tea,” he said. “Not sure I have tea, though.” He rooted through the fridge. “Kombucha. I’ve got that. That’s close, right?”

“I’ve never known what that is,” she said.

“Fermented green tea. Sort of a yeasty thing. You telling me Dyma isn’t lecturing you on the benefits of kombucha yet? Wait until she goes to college. It’s pretty disgusting, but some people like it. I’ve got a buddy who drinks it. That’s why it’s here.”

“Harlan,” she said, “I’m pregnant. Do not say ‘yeasty fermented green tea’ to me. It’s not going to end well. I’ll take the chocolate milk, please.”

He handed her a bottle. This still felt surreal, like it was happening to somebody else, but she was still Jennifer. That part felt the same.

“Come on,” he said. “We’ll sit by the fire.”

Another walk across the stone floor, past the twelve-person, iron-and-glass-and-leather dining set, sitting like an island in an endless sea of limestone, and she said, “This is a different house. I said I wouldn’t comment, and here I am, commenting.”

“Yep.” He pressed a button on the remote, turned on the gas fire, and sat on the enormous semicircular pale-brown leather couch, or whatever you called it, because it didn’t really have enough cushions to be called a couch. Another item of furniture that could probably seat twelve. “This part is sort of the living room, I guess. A friend’s wife told me this place has all the homey appeal of a modern-art museum. I don’t think it was a compliment.”

She sat down beside him, but not too close, and twisted the top off her chocolate milk. “On the other hand, it probably has a great echo, if you want to practice your yodeling.”

He grinned, and she smiled. “I rent it,” he said. “I’ve never owned a house, actually.”

“You mentioned that. When you were explaining how you’re not a sticking-around guy.”

“Oh, yeah. I did.”

Silence for a minute, and he said, “So …”

“So,” she said, “it’s pretty simple. We go to a clinic. There’s one that’s open on Saturday, because I checked. I also made an appointment, which is in about an hour and a half from now. They take my blood. They swab your cheek. We wait a week or two, and you find out if you’re on the hook.”

“I didn’t mean that. I meant …” He waved his bottle of chocolate milk. “The whole thing. How. All that.”

“Ah,” she said. “Well … because the condom broke. And I forgot to take my pill for two days. I took extra the next day, but I guess … And I’m not apologizing. I’ve spent the whole way down here telling myself I’m not apologizing. I didn’t mean to do it. You didn’t mean to do it. It happened anyway.”

He said, “I guess this is where I get mad, but it was my condom. And I put it on in too big a hurry.”

He was floating somewhere above this, observing himself down here interacting. That was bad. He took a breath and brought himself down. You couldn’t handle the moment if you weren’t in the moment.

There’d be an answer. He was the father, or he wasn’t. It felt like he was, though. And after that …

There went