Page 29 of Pregnancy Scandal
I released a sharp sigh. “What if it doesn’t work? When I asked him to have this baby with me, I never thought this would be the result. I just hoped he’d agree because it’s us and the constant part of that plan was that we’d always be friends. It was perfect because it’s Gilly, and we didn’t have the kind of relationship where we had to worry about heartbreak.” I nodded.
Taylor smiled wider and took my hand into hers. “As the queen of being on the receiving end of heartbreak, take it from me when I say, you won’t know until you try. It’s more terrifying not to try and never know what you could have been.”
That definitely was more terrifying because the thought of not choosing option A terrified me more than the possibility of heartbreak.
“No one can know what could happen until you try.” Mia chuckled. “Personally, I think you guys would rock as a couple. Also, mustn’t forget that new tattoo of his.” She nodded, and they both giggled.
“Help the guy out, Abby. At least he won’t have to explain why in the heavens he’d get his so-called best friend’s name inked on him if he’s with you. It would make sense,” Taylor added with a grin.
I smiled. It seemed like I’d made my decision. Clarity filled my mind and for the first time in forever I felt like myself. My old self, only better.
“Girls, my thanks to both of you. I’m gonna go find him after lunch.” I looked at both of them and widened my smile.
“Oh yeah?” Mia cooed. “You have your game face back on. She’s been gone for months.”
“She’s back, big time.” I chuckled.
* * *
I went to my wardrobe and found the sexiest outfit I could find amongst my collection of amazing clothes.
I chose a beige wrap over belly top so I could show of my belly button ring. Then I chose my sexy-as-hell dark brown leather skirt and stilettos. My hair I kept down and wavy. I did my make-up like I was ready for the red carpet, and then I set out to Tom’s Sports Bar.
Gilly was there every Monday playing pool with his friends. There were always a ton of groupies there waiting in line to get picked for the evening by one of the players. I was pretty certain Gilly had his own waiting list of the ones who just wanted to get near enough to talk to him.
Tonight, no groupie on earth, or anyone else for the matter, looked better than me.
Heads turned as I walked in. It was eight o’clock on a Monday night, and the bar was already packed, similar to Friday’s when it was normally heaving.
Heads all turned as I walked in, and eyes glued to me. I went in there like a woman on a mission, and the sexy Latin beat that was playing in the background just added to the vision that I was.
I moved to the balcony and gazed down at the pool table in the center of the ground floor. There he was.
There he was standing at the head of the table holding his cue in position like he was king. I recalled my gorgeous combo comparison of men as I watched him with the cigar slinked to the side of his mouth in pure bad boy mode. Tonight, though, it was like I was seeing him with fresh eyes. Tonight, James Dean, Clint Eastwood, and Adam Lavigne had nothing on Gilman Hawkins.
Tonight, he looked like a masterpiece of a man comparable to a Greek god, and he exuded the confidence of such with his just-got-out-of bed hair, a tight black long-sleeved T-shirt that did an excellent show of his muscles, and dark blue jeans that hung low on his hips.
He’d just bent over to shoot when he saw me watching and straightened.
I smiled, moved away from the balcony, and made my descent down the stairs. I saw the look his teammates gave me. Eric nearly choked on his drink. Then the groupie nearest Gilly narrowed her eyes in scrutiny.
They were all looking, but the person who mattered was him. No one else. This could have been high school all over again, but more than twenty years had passed, and this was that proverbial fork in the road where you got to choose left or right.
I stopped just before him. He took the cigar out of his mouth and gave me a look so scandalous my whole body blushed.
“Miss Cartwright, you could give a man a heart attack in that getup.” He stared with a smile that heated up my insides.
“Is the man you?” I stepped closer, and he leaned in.
“You want to give me a heart attack?” The scent of his aftershave tickled my nose.
“Not literally.”
“Well, mission accomplished. Do you have an answer for me?” He held my gaze.
I nodded slowly and purposely. “I choose option A. That is the correct answer for me.”
“Is that so?” He smiled.
