Plan B (Best Laid Plans #2) - Jana Aston Page 0,14

come to rest at the nape of my neck and he leans in, lips again to my ear, though I don't think anyone is watching or listening to us at the moment.

"You crazy fucking bitch," he hisses. "Are you drunk?"

There is no end to my humiliations today, it would seem.

"No." I shake my head both in denial and because I want his hand off of me. "I'm pregnant."

6

Kyle

"It's eight PM."

That's what I finally come up with after staring at Daisy for endless seconds and only after she's added a sarcastic, "Congratulations," to her announcement, presumably to let me know it's mine. It. A pregnancy. A baby. Mine.

"Goddammit," I hiss.

"Sorry, I'm not in charge of how morning sickness works. Nor was I in charge of the condom. Asshole."

That fucking condom.

"Watch your mouth."

"Watch my mouth? Are you serious right now? Do you hear yourself?" It's clear she's feeling better, her color returning along with her attitude. I get her out of the party and into an elevator before she balks, shooting me a dirty look and yanking her arm from my grasp when I hit the button for the lobby.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere we can talk."

"Yeah, fine." She exhales loudly as if being around me is a real trial for her. "Let's get this over with."

Get this over with? It's a fucking baby, this is far from over. I lean against the elevator wall and stare at her, in disbelief that she's here, at my grandfather’s goddamned retirement party. A retirement he prolonged for a decade while I worked to prove I was ready to take over the company.

I get her outside and into my car without any further arguments. She looks sad. Sad and pissed off as I glance at her in the passenger seat of my car while we're stopped at a light. She's not saying anything, her head turned slightly down and her fingers tapping nervously in her lap.

"Couldn't get enough of me, could you? That was a hell of a way to make a re-entrance into my life, Daisy." This stunt of hers puts me in a bad position. It might have been possible to control this story with Margo, I could rely on her jealousy to keep her from spreading the news. But Wyatt? Fuck. He'll drop this supposed engagement into every conversation he has tonight. I can't damage-control this.

Daisy's head snaps up, eyes flashing. "I couldn't get hold of you. Do you have any idea how hard you are to get hold of?"

I don't actually.

"I'd have sent you a message on Facebook, but you don't have an account. Who doesn't have a Facebook account, Kyle?"

"A lot of people don't. I'm surprised you have one. Statistics show the majority of millennials are on Snapchat and Instagram."

"You don't have a Snapchat," she grits out between clenched teeth. “Or an Instagram. Or a Twitter." She's stopped clenching in order to raise her voice an octave with each social media account I do not have. She's also pointing at me as if she'd like to stab me to death with her finger. "There's literally no way to get hold of you. Do you have any idea how annoying that is?" She exhales loudly and flops back into the seat, arms crossed and knee bouncing. There's a long slit in the material of her dress, her bouncing knee making the material slide and exposing her left leg to mid thigh. Behind us a car honks, the light green. My attention is distracted by smooth skin, a shapely thigh and keeping my hands to myself.

This reunion is off to a great fucking start.

"So you pretended to be my fiancée? That was the best plan you could come up with to get to me?" I wonder if she’s nuts. Wouldn’t that serve me right? If the one woman to catch my attention in forever is a bona fide nut job?

"Yeah. Sorry, not sorry. I've got things to do. I couldn't devote the rest of my life to finding you."

"Sorry, not sorry? Are you twelve?"

"Look." She uncrosses her arms and holds her hands up in some kind of very hostile jazz hands maneuver. "I told one person. One. That vile woman named Margo, because she wouldn't let me into the party. Which, by the way, I didn't realize it was going to be such a big, dumb, pretentious event that I'd need to be on a stupid list to get inside. I wasn't planning on any of that, okay? I said I was your