Chapter 4

"Thank you." I nod at him, opening the folder and scanning it. Fifteen minutes later, I'm walking into the conference room for the partners’ weekly meeting. "Gentlemen," I say, sitting down and grabbing a bottle of water. The meeting goes on for over two hours, and when I get back to my desk, I see that she hasn't called me back. It's not that weird, but usually, she would send a text with the word Busy.

"Hey, gorgeous, it's me. Call me back," I say, hanging up the phone and then texting her.

"I'm going to head out." Andrew sticks his head into my office. "Unless you need anything."

"I think I'll be good,” I tell him. "Big plans this weekend?" When I came to the firm, I started with a female assistant. She was new to the firm, and she got a little bit too good at her job. Plus, she was giving off vibes that she wanted to be more than just my assistant. She would bring lunch in for us, and it just got to the point where I knew that if I didn't cut it now, it would get worse. So we had her transferred to another department, and she quit two weeks later. As soon as that happened, I knew that my next assistant would be a male to make it safe for everyone. When Andrew came in, we just clicked. The one thing that I liked about him was that he left his problems at the door.

"We have a wedding out of town," he says with a smile. "She's waiting for me downstairs."

"You should have told me." I lean back in my chair. "Get out of here."

"Thank you." He nods politely.

"Why don't you take Monday off also?" He looks at me shocked. "You've been working long hours. You deserve it."

"I won't say no." He puts his hands in his pockets. "But only if you're sure."

"I'm sure." I nod at him.

"Have a great weekend," he says right before he turns and walks out of the door.

"I guess you can call it that," she says, turning around and walking inside the house. She is wearing shorts and a tank top, her black hair, which is always perfect, is piled on top of her head.

"What do you mean I can call it that?" I shut the door behind me and walk to the living room with her. I look around and see that all the drapes are closed, and the television is off. "Did someone die?"

"You can call it that," she says, sitting on the couch and folding her legs under her.

"We need to talk," she says, and when she looks at me, I can see the turmoil in her eyes. I can tell that whatever she has to tell me is bad. I can also tell that whatever she has to tell me she doesn't know how to tell me. My heart sinks to my feet.

"Oh my God," I say in a whisper. "You're seeing someone else." My mouth goes dry at the question as the pain in my chest comes on full force. Yes, we aren't technically “dating” because I don't want to put a label on it, or else, I know she's going to freak out, but that is the first thing that came to my mind. I shake my head, trying to clear the image of her and someone else out of my brain. The left side of my arm starts to twitch, and I put my hand to my chest, thinking maybe this is me having a heart attack. "Do you smell burnt toast?" I ask her. Maybe I'm having a stroke.

"Really?" she says, rolling her eyes. "That's the first thing that comes to your mind?"

"I have no idea what to think since you aren't giving me anything." I throw my hands up in the air. "You're sitting there with tears in your eyes. You have no light in your eyes. You haven't made one snarky remark about me showing up here without calling. It's the only thing that came to mind."

"When would I have time to see someone else?" she asks me. "We literally sleep together every night.”

"Not every night," I remind her, thinking of the nights she leaves me because heaven forbid we get used to each other.

"I threw up today,” she tells me. I take a step to her, and she holds up her hand to stop me.

"Are you okay now?" I look around to see if maybe she needs something. "Do you want me to get you water?" I ask. The beating of my heart picks up again just as I walk over to the kitchen and open her fridge. "Did you want maybe some Gatorade?"

"Ugh," she says, putting her head back on the back of the couch.

"Are you going to be sick?" I ask her and then look at her. "Why don't you have a bucket around in case you throw up? Do you want some soup?" I ask, sitting next to her now and taking my phone out of my pocket. "Maybe just the broth. I can call Luke and see if he can make you something."

"I don't think soup is going to make this better," she says softly, looking down at her lap, and I notice something white in her hand with a blue tip.

"Oh, God," I say, and she looks over at me. "You didn't go on Google again, did you?" I shake my head. "The last time you did that, you thought you had bedbugs. You were throwing your mattress out the window."

"It looked like bedbugs," she says through clenched teeth.

"It was mosquito bites,” I remind her. "We went hiking."

"Bennett." She says my name and then holds up a white stick in her hand.

"What is that?" I take it from her, not sure what I'm looking at until I see the word pregnant. My mouth opens as I look at her. "Is this…?" My hands shake as I hold the stick. So many emotions are going through me, but the main one is my heart feels so full.

"I can tell you what it's not." She blinks away the tears. "It's not a thermometer."

"I don't know about the we part," she says, "but I am definitely with child."