Page 33 of Uxpectedly Ever After

"Be right back," I barely manage to choke out in Navy’s direction before I'm literally sprinting for the employeebathroom, slamming the door so hard the hinges rattle. I don't even have time to lock it before I'm on my knees, violently emptying my stomach into the toilet.

I'm still heaving when the door creaks open behind me. Navy doesn't say a word, just crouches beside me and gathers my hair back from my sweaty face with one hand while the other rubs circles on my back. Tears burn my eyes when I remember Banks doing this exact same thing two weeks ago the first time this happened.

"Just something you ate, huh?" she says when I finally stop heaving. There's no judgment in her voice, just concern.

When I'm sure there's nothing left in my stomach to come up, I collapse back against the wall, completely drained. The cold tile feels amazing against my sweaty skin. I close my eyes because I can't look at her. Can't face what I know she's already figured out because Navy's always been too damn smart for her own good.

"So," she says quietly. "How far along are you?"

My eyes open but they’re so damn heavy. I barely have it in me to pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about or that I don’t want to curl up against my bestie and pour out the entire story. "What?"

"Clover." She sits down next to me on the grimy bathroom floor—without laying down a paper towel first, which tells me how worried she actually is. Her face is dead serious, not a trace of her usual snark. "I've known you for four years. I can tell the difference between food poisoning andthis. Plus, you're running to the bathroom every five minutes and you literally dry heaved when Jim Kearney walked by with his cologne that you normally like." She raises an eyebrow. "I mix drinks for a living, but contrary to popular belief, that doesn't make me an idiot."

The tears I've been fighting all day finally break free. Once they start, it's like someone turned on a faucet I don't know how to shut off.

"Six weeks," I whisper, my voice breaking. Saying it out loud makes it real in a way that even those two pink lines didn't. "I found out this afternoon."

Navy doesn't look shocked. Not even a little bit. She just nods and takes my hand, squeezing it tight enough that I feel anchored to something solid when everything else is spinning out of control.

"Banks?" she asks.

I can't even get words out. Just nod and sob harder, which is super cute and professional in the employee bathroom of the bar I'm supposed to be running right now.

"Have you told him yet?"

"Are you kidding me?" The laugh that bursts out of me sounds borderline unhinged and it’s snotty and gross, too. "I'm still trying to convince myself this isn't some horrible joke. How am I supposed to tell him? What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know—maybe 'Banks, I'm pregnant with your baby'? Short, sweet, gets the point across." She's trying to make me laugh, but the reality of what I'm facing sobers me up real quick.

"He's going to think I trapped him," I whisper, finally giving voice to the fear that's been clawing at my insides since I saw those two lines. "This is Banks Priestly we're talking about. Mr. No-Strings-Attached. Mr. I-Don't-Do-Relationships. He definitely doesn't dobabies." I wrap my arms around my stomach, this weird protective instinct I didn't know I had kicking in. "And we both agreed that night was a mistake. A onetime thing that shouldn't have happened."

Navy rolls her eyes. "Yeah, because you two are justso goodat being honest with yourselves and each other." She grabs my shoulders and makes me look her in the eye. "Listen to me,Clover James. That man looks at you like you personally hung the stars in the sky just so he'd have something pretty to look at. And you’re no better. If he walks away from this—from you—then he's not who I think he is. And you?" She tightens her grip. "You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve got this."

Her unwavering belief in me just makes me cry harder. "I don't know if I can do this," I sob out.

"You absolutely can." She squeezes my shoulders. "But here's the thing—you don't have to do it alone. Whatever happens with Banks, you've got me. And Kasen."

Oh god.Kasen. My stomach drops all over again.

How the hell am I going to tell my overprotective big brother that his best friend knocked me up? He's going to murder Banks and then lock me in a tower somewhere.

"Hey, one disaster at a time," Navy says, clearly reading the panic on my face. "First, talk to Banks. Then you two can figure out how to deal with your brother."

She helps me stand up on my wobbly legs and grabs a paper towel, wetting it in the sink before handing it to me. "I'm covering the rest of your shift. Go home, get some sleep, and figure out what you're going to say to Firefighter Hottie. And for the love of god brush your goddamn teeth."

I snort out a watery laugh. "I can't just bail on you—"

"Yes, you absolutely can. I already texted Chris to come in early, and Theo thinks you have food poisoning." She's basically shoving me toward the door. "Go. Home. Clover."

I don't have the energy to fight her on this. Or anything, really. I just nod and grab my purse from the office, then slip out the back door of Ember into the night.

The fifteen-minute walk home is pure torture. My thoughts chase themselves in circles, each one more panicked than the last.What if he freaks out? What if he leaves? What if he wantsto be involved but doesn't want me? What if he actually wants both of us?

That last one scares me the most.

By the time I reach my apartment building, I've worked myself into such a state that I have to stop and take about twenty deep breaths before my hands stop shaking enough to get the key in the lock.

Banks isn't home. Thank god. Relief washes over me, followed immediately by a wave of guilt because I'm such a coward. I'm going to have to tell him—and soon—but right now I'm just pathetically grateful for a few hours to figure out what the hell I'm going to say.

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