Songbird (7 page)

“C
allie? I came as fast as I could.” Lorie’s voice is unnaturally soft from behind the bathroom door. “I ran three red lights and had to flirt my way out of a ticket, but I’m here. Can I come in?”

“Yes,” I reply shakily.

The door opens, and Lorie’s wide eyes immediately find me, sitting on the edge of the tub and surrounded by open boxes and various brands of pregnancy tests.

“How can they all be positive? How can ten different tests from ten different companies say the same thing?”

Lorie sighs heavily before making her way over to me. Kneeling on the ground, she lifts my chin and smooths my hair out of my tear-stained face.

“Did you seriously pee on all of these?”

I sniffle quietly. “I thought if I kept trying, I’d eventually get a different result.”

Lorie sits down on the tile floor. Despite my embarrassment and fear, I can appreciate the fact that my normally outspoken friend is resisting the urge to tell me how irresponsible and stupid I am.

“How, Callie? I mean . . .
how
? Aren’t you on the pill?”

“I got busy. And stupid. And I forgot to take them for a few nights.”

She frowns. “I didn’t realize you were even seeing anybody.”

“I’m not. I haven’t. Not since . . .”

I can’t finish the sentence, because no matter how terrified I am that I’m pregnant, nothing can compare to the sheer terror in confessing the father’s name.

After what feels like forever, Lorie finally gasps.

“Devin? Devin McAllister’s the father?”

All it takes is the sound of his name to make me dissolve into tears.

Deciding she can’t handle my breakdown without assistance, Lorie calls Megan, who shows up an hour later with a pint of ice cream and three spoons. They manage to coax me out of the bathroom and lead me to the living room.

The three of us snuggle on the couch and wrap ourselves in my favorite blanket while we take turns eating triple chocolate chip right out of the carton. In between mouthfuls, I tearfully confess every detail of my weekend with Devin. They gasp and giggle appropriately. Megan even sighs wistfully when I tell them about the white rose. Lorie’s not so easy to impress.

“Forgive me if I’m not bowing at his feet for giving her a flower,” she says. “He left her. Twice.”

“But he said goodbye the second time,” Megan says with a nod.

“No, he left a
note
that said goodbye. You don’t think two nights with our beautiful best friend warrants more than a card and a rose? The man couldn’t be bothered to spend the night?”

“Devin didn’t owe me anything. I knew exactly what I was doing and now I’m paying for it.” I angrily jab my spoon into the ice cream. “I mean, just because I thought the weekend was amazing doesn’t mean he felt the same way.”

“I happen to know for a fact that’s not true,” Lorie says, then immediately covers her mouth with her hand. “Shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Ignore me.”

“You’re lying!” Megan shouts. “Take her spoon!”

I quickly snatch the spoon out of Lorie’s hand.

“What the crap?”

With a smirk, I wave it in front of her face. Lorie narrows her eyes before exhaling a deep breath.

“Fine! Owen and Devin had breakfast a few days after the wedding. He said Devin wouldn’t shut up about you. However, he wouldn’t give any steamy details, which, according to Owen, is pretty unusual. Devin’s typically a big bragger when it comes to women.”

This information shouldn’t make me happy, but it does.

“Anything else?” Megan asks.

Lorie grins at me. “Devin said the weekend was
epic
.”

Megan squeals.

I roll my eyes.
I bet he changes his tune when he finds out I’m pregnant.

“What are you thinking?” Megan asks me. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m pretty freaked out, to be honest.”

“Totally understandable,” Lorie says.

“Sure, but aren’t you excited? I mean, it’s a baby.”

“It sure is.” My sarcastic tone sounds harsh even to my ears. “That’s bad, isn’t it? I’m going to be a terrible mother.”

Lorie shakes her head. “I think it’s completely normal to feel freaked out. You should take a few days off, see a doctor, and consider your options.”

“And you should tell Devin,” Megan says quietly.

Fear clenches my stomach. I can’t even imagine making that phone call. What would I say? What would
he
say? Would he even care?

“She should get confirmation from a doctor first. Then she can tell Devin.”

Megan shakes her head. “Maybe she wants Devin to go with her to the doctor.”

“And maybe she’s independent and doesn’t need him to hold her hand.”

“Maybe she
wants
him to hold her hand!”

“
She
is right here!” I toss my spoon in the carton and throw the blanket aside. “Thank you for coming. I’ll call the doctor first thing in the morning.”

“I think she’s kicking us out,” Lorie mutters.

I nod. “Megan, I don’t like asking you to keep this from your husband, but I would appreciate it if both of you would stay quiet until I figure out what I’m going to do.”

“Absolutely,” she says.

“Of course,” Lorie says, nodding.

“Thank you. Now, I’m tired, emotional, and cranky, and I want to go to bed.”

My best friends envelop me in their arms and promise me everything’s going to be okay. I walk them out and lock the door behind them.

All I want to do is sleep.

As I lay down in my bed, I let my hand drift along my stomach. Could ten pregnancy tests be wrong? I haven’t had any weird cravings or nausea—unless you count those brief moments of vomit-inducing fear when I was checking the test results on those stupid sticks. My only real clue is the fact that my period is nine days late.

Could I be worrying for nothing?

I allow myself a tiny glimmer of hope before falling into a deep sleep.

I don’t even bother opening my umbrella as I make my way out of the doctor’s office. I’m thankful for the rain falling on my face, because it’ll mingle with my tears, and no one will be able to tell my entire world has just fallen apart.

My gynecologist confirmed what I already knew. My sobs alerted him to the fact that this isn’t exactly happy news, and he spent the next hour discussing my options. He sent me home with pamphlets, vitamins, and a reminder of my next appointment.

For the next two hours, I drive around the city and pray for divine intervention to help me make the right decision. This isn’t in my plan. I want to write. I want to win a Pulitzer. I want to have a real career, and
then
I’ll settle down and have a family. Not
now
.

That stupid wedding is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

I can’t help but laugh when I remember how much I wanted no reminders of that weekend. The hickey has long since faded and the flower’s dead. All that remains is the handwritten note.

And a baby.

It’s times like these when a girl needs her mother. That’s a phone call I dread, because my mom will be horrified that I’m following in her footsteps. Thanks to my unexpected arrival, she and Dad had married young. Since I was old enough to date, Mom had instilled in me her belief that
smart girls
always waited. Smart girls never allowed hormones to override common sense. Smart girls don’t get knocked up by guys they’d just met in a piano bar.

So, no, I won’t be calling her anytime soon.

I’ve just pulled into my apartment’s parking garage when my cell vibrates in the passenger seat. A quick glance at the screen makes me curse under my breath.

Frank.

I really don’t want to talk to my editor today.

Guilt wins out, and I turn off the ignition before answering.

“Callie Franklin.”

“You’re covering tonight’s hospital benefit.”

This is Frank’s typical greeting. No hello. No how are ya. He just barks out orders.

“Hospital benefit?”

“Children’s Hospital? Ring a bell?”

Snap out of it, Callie.

“Of course, yes! Umm . . . I thought Kayla was covering that.”

“Kayla has the flu. You keep saying you want a shot, so here’s your shot. It’s formal, so dress . . . formally. Interview some members of the hospital administration, maybe a few benefactors, and even a parent or two if they’re willing. I need copy on my desk by midnight in time for the morning edition. Stop by the office and pick up your press pass.”

I can’t help but smile. This day just became infinitely better.

“Who’s my photographer?”

“Oliver. Meet him at the hotel entrance at six. He’ll text you the address.”

Even better. I love Oliver.

Grateful to have a break from my personal drama, I thank him for the opportunity and then immediately call Megan.

“So?” she answers breathlessly.

“So . . . yeah. Positive.”

She squeals as if this is wonderful news.

“What are you going to do, Callie?”

“Nothing right now. I have a more pressing issue, believe it or not.”

I tell her about the last-minute assignment to the charity event. I have nothing formal in my closet, and Megan owns a downtown boutique. I give her a budget, and she promises to have a dress and shoes delivered to my house within an hour.

With that out of the way, I head inside. I’ve barely made it into my apartment when my cell rings again.

“I heard,” Lorie says with a sigh.

“About the baby or the event?”

“Both.”

Good news travels fast.

Knowing I won’t have time to eat later, I make myself a sandwich while we talk.

“I’m so glad you’ll be there tonight, too,” she says.

“Too?”

“Owen invited me. It’s a total meet-the-parents moment. Apparently, the McAllisters are big-time benefactors of the hospital.”

I nearly choke on my turkey sub. “Will they
all
be there?”

“Relax. Devin’s out of town.”

Thank God.

“You’ll have to face him eventually, Cal.”

“I know, but
eventually
doesn’t have to be tonight.”

“Agreed. It’s a pretty special night to them, according to Owen. His parents have donated millions to the hospital, particularly to childhood leukemia research.”

“That’s pretty specific. Wonder why?”

“I don’t know, Lois Lane. That’d be a great question for the benefactor.”

I grin. “You’re right, it would. Thanks, Lorie.”

After we hang up, a pretty black dress arrives, and I get ready in record time. By five o’clock, I’m headed to the paper to grab my press pass. Frank barks last minute instructions as I race out the door, and forty minutes later, I’m walking into the hotel.