Silas (Dirty Aces MC #4) - Lane Hart Page 0,47

on fire. He should have that cleaned up in another week or so. I’d watch my step out back on the porch until the repairs are done.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised,” I mutter.

“What about you?” Malcolm asks.

“What about me?”

“How are you doing?”

“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I snap at him.

“Calm your tits. I was just asking a simple question,” he grumbles with a shake of his head.

When the rest of the guys come in, they all welcome me back, and then Malcolm starts the meeting. I’m only halfway paying attention, though, looking forward to afterwards when Lucy can hopefully find the men who hurt Cora and make them pay.

Cora

* * *

My grand opening of the Southern Comfort Café wasn’t so grand. In fact, it was impossible to be happy when everything in the whole damn place reminds me of Sam – the tables he built, the chairs he put together, the appliances he bought, the divider wall he put up. I should’ve known then that the damn wall would end up being a metaphor for our relationship.

I’ve been so depressed and lethargic the last few days, that I even broke down and hired a waitress so that I could just stay in the back cooking and not have to face anyone. It’s probably better this way, avoiding face-to-face contact with diners who may recognize me from Carolina Beach.

“We’ve got a full house!” Tiffany says when she comes into the kitchen and puts another order for my chicken and waffles up on the order wheel that I immediately start working on.

“There are only four tables and three booths,” I remark.

“I know, but that’s a great sign for a new business,” the natural blonde says cheerfully. God, I wish I had some of her peppiness. “Soon, we may even have to put people on a waiting list.”

“Yay, us,” I mutter.

“Hey, boss?”

“Yeah?” I ask while preparing the batter.

“I’m so embarrassed to have to ask you this, but, um, do you have any…tampons?” she whispers the last word even though no one out front can hear us thanks to the thick wall and the upbeat music playing from the jukebox.

“Oh. I think so. Hold on a second,” I say, caught off guard by the question before I force myself into motion. After washing my hands, I go over and grab my purse from the safe. The damn thing Sam insisted I get is big enough for me to fit in, so I figured I may as well make good use of it. Digging around inside, I finally find what I’m looking for. “You’re in luck. I found one,” I say when I hold up the feminine product.

“Thanks! I owe you,” Tiffany says in gratitude.

“No problem,” I reply before she hurries off to the bathroom.

Once she’s gone, it hits me that I can’t remember the last time I even had a period. I’ve been so busy the last few weeks between talking to the detectives and relocating, all the preparations of opening my own restaurant and dealing with the loss of Sam…

It’s probably just the stress of everything that has me off schedule.

Except, I can’t remember having a single period since before I left town, which was…six or seven weeks ago?

No, that can’t be right. I should’ve had at least one period while living here, even with the stress.

I haven’t missed a single pill.

What if the pills were a bad batch or something?

I quickly pull out my phone, not caring if the waffles burn, and do an internet search to see if there are any recalls that I may have missed.

Oh no!

No, no, no!

Several articles say that both antibiotics and anxiety medications can make birth control pills less effective, and I took both without a clue weeks ago!

This cannot be happening.

There must be some other explanation. I cannot be pregnant by the man who up and left me by leaving a stupid note! He didn’t even leave a phone number or way for me to reach him, like he hoped not to hear from me ever again.

Maybe I’m just overreacting, so down and depressed that I’m being overdramatic.

First things first, I need to get a test from the pharmacy; and as luck would have it, there’s one nearby.

And then, if it’s positive, I can finally panic.

Until then, I just need to stay calm, keep cooking, and assume it’s just the stress making me nearly two months late.

That night when I got home, after taking five tests, there’s no doubt about it.

I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant, and I have