“What? Nothing to say?”
A smile betrays his usual stoic expression, and he raises both hands. “I don’t meddle.”
“Bullshit.” I sip my coffee now that I’ve calmed down slightly.
“You obviously don’t wanna talk about it. I heard the news this morning before Nikki’s show anyway.”
I roll my eyes. “How?”
He quirks one dark eyebrow to suggest I’m a moron for forgetting what our small town is like. “There was an accident out on the Glenn Highway in the early a.m. Had to question some people at the hospital.”
I groan. Of course. The hospital. It’s worse than the TMZ newsroom. “What are they saying?”
He rests his ankle on his other knee and leans back in the chair. “That Allie surprised you with the pregnancy. There are rumors that the baby isn’t yours, all the way to she’s expecting triplets because she’s so big already. You know how it is.” He shrugs as though it’s no big deal.
I don’t say anything. Triplets? Fuck. I try to remember how big Nikki was at this point in her pregnancy, because Allie’s stomach isn’t gigantic, but she was pretty thin before. How the hell do I know what one pregnant belly looks like compared to another one?
“So?” he interrupts my thoughts.
“What?”
“Is it yours?”
“As far as I know. I never asked for a paternity test.”
He laughs and bends forward, continuing to laugh at my expense. “Classic.”
My eyes narrow. “What?”
“You went all protective. Probably started pounding your chest. Go back to my jungle.” He lifts his fisted hands and pounds his chest, mimicking King Kong.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
He grows somber for a moment, but from the smile that won’t vanish, he’s holding in his laugh by a breath. “You took her to your house. People have pictures of your hand on the small of her back. Didn’t you listen to Nikki’s segment this morning?”
“I tuned in late.” Now I wish I’d heard it all.
“Someone reported that you pulled her into the room where your niece was being treated, then you waited outside the emergency room doors until three in the morning.”
“I got dinner at the cafeteria,” I grumble, shaking my head in annoyance.
“Then you two had breakfast and she was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. At this point, people are fairly sure you’re a couple.”
I squeeze my coffee. “We’re not.”
“But you are having a baby together?” He locks his eyes with mine.
“We are.”
“Say it,” he goads me.
“You’re ridiculous. What did you come in here to talk about—other than my personal life?”
“We just received an interesting call.”
“What is it?”
“Someone called to say someone broke into their Netflix account.”
“Tell them to call Netflix then.” I push the button to fire up my computer.
He shakes his head, another smile tipping his lips. “They’re suggesting that someone broke in, watched a bunch of shows they normally wouldn’t watch, and now all their recommendations are all wrong.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” I push a hand through my hair.
He shakes his head. “Afraid not.”
I stand and take another sip of my coffee before dumping the cup in the trash. “Let’s go. Where to?”
“George Lehman’s.”
Of course, it couldn’t be anyone other than the leader of the Sunrise Bay Gossip Brigade.
Later that week, I’m in the waiting room of Stella’s practice, my foot tapping on the carpet. The sound of the waterfall feature she had installed on one wall is doing nothing to soothe my nerves. All it’s doing is making me have to pee.
I’ve managed to dodge Fisher since our breakfast, needing a little space. Sure, he knows secret number one, but there’s still a big one for him to find out, and I’m nervous about how he’ll react. That’s if he even shows up for this ultrasound appointment. When we parted ways at the diner, he said he would no matter what, but the gossip around the hospital is that someone is breaking into elderly people’s houses and messing with their Netflix accounts. Knowing Fisher, he won’t rest until he finds whoever is responsible. Which has worked out well for me since he hasn’t had time to push me to move in or even ask more questions about the pregnancy. But if he shows up today, he’ll find out what I’ve been keeping from him.
I glance at the clock. My appointment time was ten minutes ago. I imagine myself storming up to Cindy, the receptionist, and telling her to get me in a room and if a hot sheriff shows up asking for me, tell him she doesn’t know who I am.
But that’d be taking the easy way out. The news will be like a bomb drop and there’s no way to stop it from exploding and spraying us both with shrapnel.
“Allie?” Heather comes out behind the closed door with my file in her hand.
I spring out of my chair as if I’m not five months pregnant and about to lose all bladder control. I greet her and walk toward the doorway as fast as I can.
“Hold up,” a deep voice rings out across the room.
A long breath flows out of my mouth as my head lowers until my chin is tucked to my chest. I was so close.
The waiting room quiets—probably because most of the women are watching Fisher. I peek over my shoulder. Sure enough, he’s in his uniform but without his hat, so his dark, wavy hair is tousled to perfection. A memory surfaces of my fingers running through those dark, soft strands every time he thrust inside me.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says.
“And you are?” Heather asks, her voice razor sharp with protectiveness.
“I’m with Allie.” He disregards her and looks at me. “Sorry, got hung up at work.”
“Another case of the Netflix hijacker?”
He rolls his eyes and nods.
“Okay then, follow me.” Heather leads us down the hallway to the farthest room. The one where she does the ultrasounds.
Fisher’s footsteps behind me sound like a doomsday premonition, and I take a deep breath. This is the other reason I hadn’t yet worked up the nerve to tell him about the pregnancy. But we’re here now and the reveal is inevitable.
Fellow nurses watch us, whispering to one another like old church ladies. I lift my hand, saying hello to ex-coworkers, but none of them are focused on me. They’re fixated on Fisher as though he’s the latest Hollywood heartthrob.
Don’t they know Gavin Pierce is still in town?
All three of us step into the room, and I set my purse on one of the chairs.
Heather arranges a couple of things on the counter and says over her shoulder, “Stella wants to check you today with it being five months and—”
“That’s fine. Fisher can step out while I change.”
She chuckles. “I’ll take you to an exam room after the ultrasound. I don’t need you to change for this, silly. What’s up with you?”
Pregnancy brain mixed with a good dose of nerves, I want to tell her, but instead I smile.
I slide up on the table while Heather prepares the ultrasound machine. She tucks towels under the waistband of my pants, then walks across the room to turn off the lights. Fisher’s examining the room as if he’s just entered a crime scene, taking in every little item.