I do as I’m told and turn around. That nurse thinks we’re together. She thinks I’m the father. She would be right, but Sunday doesn’t know that. It almost doesn’t seem fair. Hell, I know it’s not.
Sunday takes off to the restroom to pee in a cup, and once she’s through we head into a private room and Sunday is given a paper gown to put on. As soon as the nurse leaves, I hold up a hand.
“I know the drill.” I turn and stare at the pebble grained wallpaper while listening as she jumps around behind me, the rustle of paper as she curses under her breath. I’m not big on doctors’ offices. Heck, I can’t remember the last time I was at the doctor’s myself, but the scent and the look of this place makes me feel lightheaded. I’ve got an iron stomach. I can watch a gory horror flick with the best of them, but you put me in a tiny cubicle filled with needles—that aren’t even pointed in my direction—and I’m tempted to voluntarily black out. “Anytime you want to give me the boot, just say the word.” Please say the word.
A laugh bubbles from her. “Turn around, you coward, and come here.”
Sunday greets me with an unsure grin as if maybe she was feeling a little cowardly herself. But she’s no coward. Sunday is the furthest thing from it. She’s been sicker than anyone should ever be, and I haven’t heard her complain about it once.
Her eyes flash to mine. “I’m not a fan of being poked and prodded. And for the record, I’m not a fan of spreading my legs for a man I don’t know.” She rolls her eyes. “My God, how ironic is that?” Her chest bounces with a sad chuckle, and that pink gown opens enough for me to have a view I shouldn’t be looking at. “That’s what landed me here to begin with.”
I take a seat on the rolling stool and land beside her. “Don’t beat yourself up over anything. What’s done is done.” Let me beat myself up over it, because at the end of the day, this is my fault. If I didn’t coax her into imbibing half that keg with me, neither of us would be here right now—certainly not that baby we made. I look up, and her pale amber eyes connect with mine. You can see the fear percolating in them, and all I want to do is hold her. “Sunday”—her name presses out of me with grief—“I want you to know that you’ll never be alone in any of this. You’ll always have me. I’ll help you raise the baby. I’ll be there for you, on call, at all hours. If you need diapers or sushi at three a.m., I’m your man. And that offer stands for as long as I’m breathing.”
“Seth”—she breathes my name as if it took everything in her to say it—“that’s awful nice of you.” A swell of tears fills her eyes, and she blinks them away. “But life is going to change for the both of us. You’re going to get married one day and have a family of your own. I’m pretty sure your wife isn’t going to appreciate me and my kid taking up your time.” She averts her gaze to the floor a moment. “You know I used to hear that phrase damaged goods and never thought anything of it, and as silly as it sounds, that’s exactly what I feel like. For so long I thought I had the advantage in life, and here I am at Whitney Briggs, one of the top private schools in the world, and I’ve just altered my destiny in a huge way before I even got out into the real world with my golden ticket—the degree that it will probably take me ten times longer to earn if they don’t kick me out before I finish it. I’m already struggling to keep up in my classes. I’ve gone from being an A student to a failure at life.”
“Hey”—I bark it out a little harsher than I meant to before picking up her hand—“you’ll never be damaged goods. You’re beautiful, smart, and funny. You’re going to make a great mother. Don’t get discouraged, and don’t let those negative thoughts weigh you down.” It’s clear she needs me here more than ever, if for nothing else than to present her with the truth when her mind insists on heading into dark places.
Her fingers press over mine, and that heavy look of grief on her face lightens. “What did I ever do to deserve you? You’re way too good to me, you know that?”
Here it is, that cracked door I’ve been waiting for to share my true feelings for her. Sure, that kiss should have shouted it from a mountaintop, but things have been so insane I think I need words to get it out. “Sunday, I’ve been meaning to—”
The door swings open, and in breezes a six-foot wall of muscles with a toothy grin, and the worst part about the dude is he actually seems likeable. He’s young, just a little older than us in fact. There’s no way this is a real doctor.
“Dr. Green here. Look at this”—he grins our way before glancing over the chart—“lovebirds. I’ll admit, it warms my heart to see people so in love.” The nurse comes back in and gets quietly to work pulling out a plethora of medieval looking devices.
That’s two for two. Maybe they’re supposed to say things like that—keep it light, avoid the fear and bloodshed most couples want to resort to in places like this. I bet wives want to slaughter their husbands once they realize a human the size of a football has to squeeze out of their most delicate orifice. Heck, I’d be pissed.
“Oh”—Sunday laughs as she pulls her hand free—“we’re not together. Seth is just a good friend I brought along for support.”
Dr. GQ leans back on his Italian leather shoes as he cuts her a curious look. “So, he’s not the father?”
“Nope.” Her cheeks flush a bright pink. “The father’s not even in the picture.”
Yes, I am. I’m right here, Sunday. I promise you I’m not going anywhere.
“So, you’re single?” the not-so-good doctor dares to ask as he pulls on his latex gloves.
Sunday giggles like a schoolgirl and, holy crap, is she still blushing? Is that for him? She’s not into this crackpot, is she?
“I guess, if you say so.” Her eyes fall to mine for a moment. “Single and eating for two. Not exactly where I thought I’d end up on Valentine’s Day this year.”
“Ah”—he rolls over on his seat and pumps up the table Sunday is sitting on—“it’s rare for any of us to end up where we think we should be. Life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”
“That’s for sure,” she chirps as she falls back on her elbows, knees parted, that paper gown opening like a flower for him.
He taps her thigh. “Lie down and put your feet in the stirrups. I’ll take a look and feel around, then we’ll get to the fun part.”
I bet you will, dude. My blood boils so hot so fast I’m this close to pushing him through a wall. Who the hell does he think he is talking to her like that?
Sunday sets her feet in the tiny cradles at the end of the table, and my heart starts on what feels like an audible wallop. Shit. He really is about to have a king’s view of the girl I love.
Love?
I love Sunday.
I glance over at her, and it feels as if a weight has lifted from me. I do. I love Sunday Knight. A dull laugh strums from my chest.
She clicks her tongue at me. “Don’t be an imbecile, Seth. Give me your hand.” She flicks her fingers, clearly annoyed with me, and I can’t help but feel like an ass.
The doctor glances my way and winks before leaning in between her knees. “All right, girl, open wide.”
I jolt in my seat. “What the f—”
“Shh!” Sunday makes wild eyes at me. “Just sit there,” she hisses, and I tighten my grip on her as if I were the one in the hot seat.
He holds his hand out, and the nurse drops a mean looking tool into it.
“I’m going to insert the speculum,” he drops his voice to his lower register as if he were trying to seduce her, and Sunday bucks and grunts because I’m pretty sure it hurts like hell. That thing was a foot long at least, and all of it has disappeared underneath that paper gown. Shit. “That’s a good girl. Just relax. I’m going to feel around and make sure everything is where it’s supposed to be.”
“I bet,” I whisper, and Sunday gives my fingers a hard tug.
“Two hands,” he whispers as his other greasy mitt joins the party. His head disappears underneath her papier-mâché dress, and suddenly I am very fucking concerne
d.
And right about now, I’d like to break both his hands and his face for the hell of it.
Sunday tugs at me again and curls her head toward my chest. She looks up, and those beautiful eyes, those long lashes gaze up at me with an affection I’ve never seen in her before. Could it be that Sunday shares the same feelings I do? And why in the hell did we have to choose this moment, when some other dude who I’m not even sure is a doctor is having his way with her girl parts?
She lets out a moan and exhales, her lids hooded as if she were in the heat of something serious—but her eyes are still pinned to mine, and I can’t say I don’t appreciate the fact.
“All done. Everything looks good.” He comes up for air, red-faced, his hair looking as if he went through a war. Damn pervert. “Have as much sex as you like.” He looks right at her. “The baby is perfectly safe, so if you happen to get lucky this Valentine’s Day, no point in holding back. It is S-A-F-E. Now for the fun part.” He looks to his nurse. “How about a little mood lighting?” The nurse cuts out the lights, save for the computer monitor, and she slides that over to us as if we were readying to watch a movie.
“Putting a condom on the wand.” The demented doctor continues to talk to himself. “Warm jelly,” he says, dousing it with something that looks like a condiment container. “And inserting gently into the vagina.”
Sunday’s body bucks. “Oh, that is warm.” She bites down on a smile as she looks my way. “This is about to get real, isn’t it?” She pulls my hand to her chest and gives it a squeeze.
A loud walloping sound fills the room, the sound of a baseball bat twirling at Mach 1. Dr. Green grins over at Sunday, and I can’t help but note the fact his teeth glow as if they were painted with radium.
“And we’ve got a strong heartbeat,” he says, pointing up at the screen. “You see that tiny baby there?”
“Oh my God,” the words evict from me as I lose the wind in my lungs. “That’s the baby?”
“That’s the baby.” He moves the screen in close for Sunday and me to see. “It looks as if you’re ten weeks along.”
And there he or she is, a beautiful head, two delicate arms—legs.
“Look at those fingers!” Sunday’s body trembles as she giggles through the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Is it sucking its thumb?”
Dr. Green leans in. “That’s what it looks like. It’s not uncommon, but it does appear that your child has already found a way to amuse itself. Lucky you. A sign of good things to come.”
“Good things,” Sunday whispers, her gaze transfixed upon the screen in what appears to be an unbreakable bond. There’s no doubt she’s already unbreakably bonded to this baby, our baby. I know I am. There’s no way I want strangers raising our child. If Sunday wants to put it up for adoption, I’ll take it. It won’t be easy, but that baby is my flesh and blood, hers too, and I need to be near it just to breathe. I’ve never felt so connected to someone in all my life like I do with Sunday right now, with our baby.
The doctor finishes up, and as soon as Sunday dresses we take off. Neither of us says anything until we hit the parking lot, and in an instant she wraps her arms around me tight, burying her face in my chest, and I can feel the wetness from her tears. Sunday looks up with her lips quivering into a smile.
“That was incredible. Thank you, Seth. I’m so glad I had someone to share it with, and I’m glad it was you.”
“I’m glad it was me, too.” I press a chaste kiss to her forehead. “You have any plans for tonight?”
“V-Day?” She makes a face. “All my friends are either headed to a frat party or having a private party with their plus ones. I’m pretty sure there aren’t too many guys out there looking for a knocked-up girlfriend. He’d have to be a real pervert.”
“You sure about that?” I try to hold back a laugh. “I’m pretty sure that doctor back there was gunning to have a good time with you.”
“Did you see where he put his hands? He did have a good time with me.”
We share a quiet laugh.
“So have dinner with me.” I shrug as if it were no big deal. “If you’re nice, I’ll take you to a movie.”
“Oh, really? And if I’m naughty?” Her left brow hooks, and my insides explode with heat. It looks like I’m not the only pervert around here.
“If you’re naughty, you get a direct pass to my apartment. I might even build you a fire.” Crap. Did I just say that? I’m pretty sure flirting with someone who’s trusting you in the most delicate state of their life is a shitty thing to do—especially when you put them in that delicate state.
“Well then”—her fingernails glide down my back, and it feels electric—“I hope you have wood for that fire.” Her eyes widen a moment as if she caught the double entendre a moment too late. “Because I plan on being very, very naughty.”
Sunday plans on being naughty, and it takes everything in me not to grin like an idiot.
Sunday and I are unnaturally quiet all the way back to Briggs.
The Black Bear is in full-on romance mode as the crooners they pay to belt out live tunes night after night moan one slow song after another into the mic. I told Sunday I’d take her anywhere, but she insisted that the Black Bear was fine, pointing out the fact everywhere else was booked to the hilt weeks in advance.
And as my crappy luck would have it, there’s not a single table available in this place either. The usual wall-to-wall bodies only seem to have extrapolated into a throng of flesh everywhere you look. I’m about to pull out my phone and text Sunday plan B when I spot a friendly wave coming from the back. It’s Trixie calling me over, and next to her Rush grins at me as if he’s actually happy to see me.
My insides grind as I reluctantly head their way to say a quick hello.
“What’s up?” Rush slaps me five. “You look dressed to kill. Who’s the lucky lady? Or are you taking them on a rotation tonight?” He hacks out a laugh, but Trixie is downright scowling at me. She knows exactly how much time I’ve been logging with her BFF. Trixie is as sharp as a butcher knife. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if she had everything figured out, right down to that baby’s DNA. Not that she knows there is a baby. At least according to Sunday. “Don’t just stand there. Take a seat.” He kicks out the chair across from him, and I wince at it. I’m pretty sure this isn’t how Sunday or I envisioned this night going, romantic or not.
“Thanks, man, but I don’t want to put a damper on your good time.”
Rush barks out another laugh. “Trix and I were just going to have a quick bite and take off for my place. Trust me, sweetheart, you’re not putting a damper on our good time.”
Subtlety has never been Rush Knight’s strong suit, but I can’t seem to take him up on his offer. I’d rather eat takeout in front of that fire I plan on making tonight.
“Dude”—Rush points hard into the seat in front of me—“this place is packed. Grab a burger with us. We really don’t care.”
“That’s right.” Trixie’s brows hike up, and I can’t help but note her tone is drenched in sarcasm. “Unless you’ve got a hot date with a beautiful girl. Let me guess, tall, blonde, and has her gag reflex on overdrive?”
Crap. “Nope. It’s just me.” I don’t know why I spouted the lie, but it’s partially true. Sunday and I aren’t technically dating. It’s simply dinner with friends—like the one I’m about to experience with them. I fall into the seat and don’t bother perusing the menu. I’ve eaten at the Black Baer enough to have it memorized.
Rush shakes his head at me. “I should set you up. I’ve got at least ten chicks that still text me as if Trixie wasn’t ready to knock their lights out.”
A vanilla breeze hits the table, and I glance up to find Sunday standing there, stunning as ever with her hair long and full of volume, her makeup done up to the point I’m moved to worship, and she’s wearing a soft pink sweater that begs for me to touch it.
“You look beautiful.” I swallow hard and, holy shit, did I just spout that of
f in front of her brother?
Her eyes enlarge for a moment with panic. “Thanks.” She shoots Trixie a look that says keep your mouth shut, and I second that motion.
Rush grunts, “Why are you looking like that, anyway? Is there some dude here you’re trying to impress? Because if there is, I’m going to kill him. Nobody sees you looking this good.” He points hard to the seat next to me. “Eat with us, and I’ll walk you to your dorm after.”
“Please.” She rolls her eyes as she takes a seat, her perfume wrapping itself around me like a vanilla-laced curtain. “I was hoping to find Serena or Harley.” She shrugs my way. “But I guess you guys will have to do.” She gives a sly wink my way, and Trixie clears her throat. “So, what did I interrupt?” She bounces in her seat, and I can’t help but glance down at the oversized sweater she’s wearing and a warmth spreads through me at the thought of knowing our baby is just inches away. It feels good being near Sunday.
Trixie leans in with a fire in her eyes, never a good thing. “Rush here was just looking to set Seth up with the bimbos that continue to stalk him.” She bares her teeth at Sunday in a malicious grin. It’s clear she’s enjoying this. “You know anyone who might want to date a tall, dark, and handsome—nice, upstanding, generous, have I mentioned basketball star?” She pierces Sunday with a hard look, and all of the hope I have for Sunday and me connecting on that level skyrockets as I await her answer.
“Whoa”—Rush calls time with his hands—“I’m sitting right here, remember? Seth’s not that great.” He makes a face my way. “All right. You are, but set your sights on anyone but my girl.” He huffs a dull laugh. “Can you believe I actually used to think you were into Trix? I could never figure out why you were always hanging off her and Sunday. I mean, what else could it have meant? But Trix had it right. You’re everything she said and more. The girls are going to eat you alive.”
I cringe at the visual.
“I bet they will.” Sunday shakes her head as if that list were completely fabricated and the furthest thing from the truth. “Make sure you find the most annoying of the bunch. I hear Seth has an appreciation for needy, whiny women. He’s got a real Superman Syndrome, this one.” She tosses a quick wink my way, and I can’t help but stifle a laugh.