Page 47 of My Brother's Roommate (Frisky Business 2)
“Who’s Beth?”
“Exactly. I hardly know her. We met last May at a bar in River North. You might remember her. Brown hair, kind of short.”
I chomp down on my lower lip, holding back a laugh. “You’re describing literally every girl you’ve ever hit on.”
Connor huffs, shoving his hands so far into his pockets, you’d think he was trying to break through and touch the concrete. “Whatever. The point is, she’s pregnant. Six months pregnant.”
Oh. Whoa.
My heart outruns my breath, leaving me dizzy and unbalanced. “Is it . . .”
He nods somberly. “The paternity test came back yesterday morning. I’m the dad.”
Those last three words lodge in my chest like a pill I can’t quite gulp down. My brother, a father? My brain won’t even fully register the thought.
“What are you going to do?”
“The right thing,” he says firmly, his tortured expression fading to give way to a more serious one. “Whatever Beth wants me to do. I want to be involved as much as she’ll let me. I mean, Jesus, this is my daughter we’re talking about.”
A lump of emotion forms in my throat, and I can barely squeak out my reply. “Daughter?”
The smallest smile pulls at his lips. It’s the most joy I’ve seen from him all night, and something inside my chest squeezes.
“Yeah,” he whispers. “It’s a girl.”
Something about knowing the gender makes the whole thing seem much more real. I try to imagine Connor picking out little pink onesies, learning how to master the art of hair bows and playing pretend with Barbie dolls.
It warms my heart, to be honest. He’s been such a good big brother to me. I can only imagine that will transfer well to being some lucky little girl’s dad. Maybe the circumstances aren’t ideal, but a baby is a blessing, no matter what. Plus, I know I could throw a mean baby shower.
Which brings me to my next question. “Do your friends know?”
Connor laughs. “Hell no. But they’re sure as hell going to find out when I start shopping for a car seat.”
I barely suppress a smirk. “You know you can’t put a car seat on a motorcycle, right?”
He nods. “That’s why I sold the bike.”
My jaw nearly hits the concrete. The only thing less believable than my brother getting some girl pregnant is him selling his precious motorcycle.
“No way,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“Yes, way,” he says. “Wolfie’s helping me pick out a car. I guess it’s time to finally grow up.”
Pride swells in my chest, mixing with the rest of the emotions fighting for my attention. Surprise. Confusion. And love. I love my brother. And I’m proud of him. I never envisioned him becoming a single father, but I know that anything he puts his heart into, he’ll be great at.
“How are you feeling . . . about everything?”
Connor shrugs and runs one hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Honestly? I don’t even know. It’s a lot to process.”
I nod. “I get that. And you and Beth? Are you . . .”
He shakes his head. “No. She’s actually dating someone else. Says she’s really happy.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
I can’t even begin to imagine the complexity of having a baby with someone, let alone someone who’s now dating someone else. What if Connor doesn’t like the new guy who’s going to theoretically be spending a lot of time around his daughter?
But before I can contemplate it further, he interrupts my train of thought.
“They’re both med school students. Beth’s going to be a pediatrician. I remember being impressed that she was in med school. We talked about it that night.”
I shift my weight. “Was it only a one-time thing between you two?”
He shakes his head. “No. We saw each other for a few weeks. It was casual, kind of a friends-with-benefits thing. She was too busy for anything else, but I was fine with that.”
I smirk. Of course he was. My brother the playboy, ladies and gentlemen.
But now it seems he’s found out the hard way about where babies come from. I’ve never dwelled on it, but yes, my brother has had a lot of casual sex. Although I can’t help but wonder if maybe those days are behind him.
Nodding gently, I touch Connor’s arm. “I know that no matter what happens, you’re going to be an amazing dad.”
He swallows hard. “Thanks, Pen.”
Before things start getting too mushy between us, I motion back toward his apartment. “All right, let’s go enjoy what’s left of this party. Gotta live it up for the next three months before your Saturday nights start to look a whole lot different.”
He winces. “Do you have to rub salt in the wound?”
“I’m your sister.” I shrug. “Isn’t that my job?”
Upstairs, the party is still buzzing along like it was when we left it—music playing, friends laughing too loud. But now, with a heavy weight off his chest, Connor is actually able to enjoy his evening. He finally digs into his cake, even going for a second slice, and sips on one of his favorite craft beers while singing along to some old nineties hip-hop song Wolfie included on tonight’s playlist.
