My eyes flipped open just shy of seven a.m. It had taken me a few hours to wind down, and I hadn’t gone to bed until almost two. Jazz and I had agreed to open the bakery late, giving us both a chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep. We’d been burning the candle at both ends, preparing for Horace and Angie’s party while also running the bakery—not that there had been enough customers to even warrant being open so early in the morning.
I burrowed my head into the pillow and screamed.
One night.
That was all I asked. One night of good sleep where I wasn’t worried about money or being woken up because of construction outside my building.
I punched the mattress next to my face a few times for good measure and then sat up. It wouldn’t do any good to be pissed off. Not when I couldn’t do anything about it.
I stumbled toward the bathroom to do my business. I let out a hiss of pain.
Shit.
I had the start of a UTI.
After washing my hands, I rummaged through the medicine cabinet for an anti-inflammatory. I quickly took it before hopping into the shower.
Twenty minutes later, I was in my car driving to the clinic Slash had taken me to a few weeks ago.
Jeez, had it already been that long since our night together?
I parked close to the entrance and smiled at the two guards who were patrolling the front. They let me pass.
The receptionist at the desk hung up the phone. “Good morning,” she greeted. “Can I help you?”
“Yeah. I think I have a UTI and need to see someone.”
“Second floor. They’ll take care of you.”
“Thanks,” I said.
I sat in an exam room, waiting to see the doctor.
The door opened, and Linden walked in. “Brooklyn,” she said with a smile.
“Hey,” I said in surprise. “You never came in for your slice of pie.”
“Ah, no, I didn’t. Things at the clinic have been crazy.” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her white lab coat. “So, what am I seeing you for today?”
“I think I might be getting a UTI,” I explained.
“Well, that’s no fun.” She turned and went to the cabinet over the counter and retracted a plastic cup. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”
Nodding, I took the cup from her. “We’re getting all sorts of personal, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, I guess we are. Speaking of personal, any chance you might be pregnant?”
“What? No!”
She held her hand up. “Just a standard question. I’m going to confirm it’s a UTI, but I’ll run a pregnancy test just to be on the safe side. I want to make sure any medication I’m giving you is safe.”
“I’m not pregnant,” I insisted.
“Okay.” She arched a brow. “Bathroom’s down the hallway to the right.”
I took the cup and headed for the restroom; my mind stuck on her question.
I wasn’t pregnant.
There was no way I was pregnant because the last time I got my period was…
Wait.
No.
Are you fucking kidding me?
“This isn’t part of your job description,” I mumbled, taking the juice box from Doc’s hand.
“Not technically, no. But I’ve always been a bit unusual for a doctor.”
I grasped the tiny straw in its plastic sleeve and ripped it open. I tried to shove it into the foil-covered hole, but the straw kept bending. As I grew more and more frustrated, my motions became erratic.
“Let me,” she said, jumping forward and taking the juice from me. With one easy move, she accomplished what I couldn’t.
I took it back from her and put the straw to my mouth.
“I’m guessing this is a bit of a surprise?” she asked gently.
I nodded.
“And the father…is he in the picture?”
I shook my head no.
“I see.”
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
Doc was off her stool and reaching for the trash can just in the nick of time. She held it under my face, and when I was finished, she set it aside and handed me a tissue. I wiped my lips and sucked down apple juice to remove the taste of bile and terror from my mouth.
“I’m pretty sure that was nerves and not actual morning sickness,” I commented. I shook my head. “Jesus, I can’t even wrap my head around this. How? Just how? This is my payback for having the only one-night stand of my entire life.”
I was blabbing, spewing words because Doc was there, and I needed help processing.
I’m going to have a baby.
I wasn’t ready to have a baby. I wasn’t settled. My business was on the verge of failing. I lived in a tiny apartment over the bakery. There was hardly enough room for me. What about a crib? Where was the crib going to go?
I’m alone. Oh my God, I’m alone.
“I need prenatal vitamins,” I blurted out.
“I’ll prescribe them.”
“Thanks.” We both fell silent for a moment, and then I said, “I’m still sitting here, aren’t I?”
“Yes.” She smiled softly.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. I work sixty hours a week. I live in an apartment over my bakery. I don’t have health insurance.”
I’m terrified.
“The clinic offers services,” Doc said gently. “We have a wonderful OB-GYN. We can help. We want to help. That’s why I built this clinic—to help.”
“You built this clinic?” I asked in surprise.
She smiled slightly. “This clinic is my baby.”
“But you won’t be my OB?” I asked, feeling tears prickle my eyes.
She shook her head. “I’m not an OB. I’m technically a general surgeon.”
“Technically?”
Doc smiled but didn’t elaborate. She removed a prescription pad from her pocket, along with a pen. “Do you have any known allergies to any medications?”
I shook my head.
With a nod, she quickly wrote out two prescriptions and handed them to me, and then she reached into the drawer and pulled out a blue paper. “Here’s a list of foods to avoid while pregnant. There’s a pharmacy about three blocks from here. They fill quickly for our patients.” She wheeled her stool back and then stood up.
I got off the exam table, prescriptions and paper in hand.
“Before you leave, check in with Charlie at the reception desk. She’ll schedule a prenatal appointment for you.”
“Thanks.”
I tossed the empty juice box into the trash.
“You still have my card?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Use it. If you need to. Not just for medical stuff.”
I frowned at her. “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why are you doing this? What’s your angle?”
“Angle? There’s no angle. I’m a doctor, and I care. That’s all.”
“Okay.”
“Clearly you don’t believe me. Call me if you want. Or don’t. But I’m here for you. I mean that.” She opened the exam room door and waited for me to leave first before following.
“Thanks, Doc,” I said quietly.
“Call me Linden.”
I shoved the prescription papers into my purse and headed for the elevator. My brain should’ve been whirling. Instead, it was nothing but static. I moved on autopilot. I spoke with Charlie before leaving and she handed me a card with my next exam date. I took it and headed outside to the parking lot.
When I got to my piece-of-shit, barely working car, I thought about how my entire life had just changed in the blink of an eye.
I was scared. I didn’t know how I was going to raise a baby. But another part of me butted itself into the conversation.
You can do this.
Resolve momentarily pushed the fear out of my mind. I climbed into the car and drove to the pharmacy. My cell phone rang, but it was a number I didn’t recognize so I let it go to voicemail. I sat in the parking lot of the pharmacy, the car idling as I thought about him.
Slash.
I wasn’t sure what to do where he was concerned. Should I tell him? Was I supposed to let him off the hook? He had said he was a Nomad, a rolling stone. I didn’t want him shackled to me for the rest of our lives just because he was about to be a father. I didn’t know him. I didn’t know anything about him except for the fact that he was amazing in bed and that somehow, even after wearing protection, he’d still managed to get me pregnant.
He was a biker. I’d specifically gone to the Blue Angels clubhouse to hook up with someone I had no intention of ever seeing again. I knew they weren’t white-picket-fence, home-in-the-burbs type of men and had banked on that.
I just hadn’t banked on getting pregnant.
No, he wasn’t in the picture. I hadn’t lied to Linden.
I’ll do this on my own.
“Can I help you find anything?” the friendly boutique assistant asked.
“Oh, I’m just browsing. Thanks.”
She nodded to an adorable blue onesie with a duck icon stitched on the chest. “That’s one of our best sellers.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” she said with a smile before moving back to stand behind the counter.
I discreetly looked at the price tag of the onesie and tried not to flinch. There was no way I could afford anything in this store.
It had been an impulse stop. I’d been driving to the bakery when I saw the sign for a baby boutique, and I couldn’t help myself.
I put the onesie back on the rack, kept my head down, and walked outside. I got into the car and put my drug-store sunglasses on and finally let the tears fall.
Finally, I got it together and drove home. I detoured around the construction zone and parked in the back. I made sure the prescription bag was closed, grabbed my purse, and got out of the car.
“Where the hell have you been?” Jazz demanded the moment I stepped foot in the kitchen. “I’ve been calling and calling!”
I pulled out my cell from my bag and saw dozens of missed calls and texts. Some of them were from unknown numbers, but several were from Jazz.
“I’m sorry. I was at the clinic,” I explained. “For a UTI.”
Her expression softened. “Damn. Doctor give you meds?”
I held up the prescription bag. “I’m sorry I didn’t text that I’d be late.”
“I’m not upset about that.”
“Then what are you upset about?”
She pulled an envelope from her back pocket and tossed it on the counter in front of me. “We got a nice little visit from the health department.”
I opened the envelope and pulled out the paper. I quickly scanned it, anger flaring in my chest. “These are all nitpick, bullshit violations!”
“I know.”
“They sound made up!”
“I know.”
“I have to pay a fine! And they’re going to come back to inspect the bakery again!”
“I know.”
“Damn it!” I turned suddenly, my arm knocking the prescription bag to the floor. It fell open, and out rolled the bottle of prenatal vitamins.
Jazz and I both stared at the bottle for a moment, and then she looked at me. “Oh…”
I sighed. “Yeah.”
“So, you didn’t just go to the clinic for a UTI then?”
“I didn’t know,” I murmured, crouching and grabbing the bottle of vitamins before shoving them into my shoulder bag. I zipped it for good measure, but the damage was done. The news was no longer a secret. “I only found out a few hours ago.”
She nibbled her lip, looking like she wanted to ask a question, but attempting to curtail her naturally curious nature.
“Out with it,” I demanded.
“Is the father that insanely hot biker you spent the night with?”
I paused and then slowly nodded.
“Are you going to tell him?”
I shook my head. “Can we please talk about something else?”
“Sure. I got a text this morning from Angie. She’s still raving about the cake you made.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” I said. “I’ve gotten a few phone calls this morning from unknown numbers. I’m guessing they’re about catering jobs. It looks like we’re in business, Jazz.”