Page 78 of Never Have I Ever

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know when we had sex.” His eyes dart to mine, his expression holding annoyance in his pinched brow. He looks away from me toward the ocean. “I don’t know if we should talk—”

“Yeah, I’m thinking it’s best if we don’t.” We’re moving fast, so fast that we’re spiraling out of control. Or is that only my head spinning? I push off the coping and get to my feet. “This feels too big to invade such a personal matter before you’ve reckoned with it.”

His gaze returns, or I assume it has since he’s still wearing shades so black that the light can’t give me a peek. “There’s no reckoning, Poppy.”

“Bad word choice. Handle? Does that fit better?” Instead of focusing on me, I want him to have the freedom to figure out the next steps for him. I wasn’t expecting a fight?

It’s weird how you get used to something and start seeing things from a different perspective. How attractive this man is will never change, but I’d almost forgotten how big he is until he stands, and his shadow stretches to consume me. “I’m going to need you to fill me in here because I’m confused.” He finally tears his glasses from his face and asks, “Are you upset that I might have a child out there, or are you upset that I had sex with someone after you?”

“You mean before me.” If looks could kill, he’d be dead. If looks could incriminate, he’d be guilty. “Right?”

“Right. Before.”

The sun beats down on my shoulders, and the tension between us is thick. Feeling heated, I say, “I’m going inside.” I’m not sure if water can cool my temper, but it will help my thirst.

I enter the house, checking over my shoulder to see if he’s following. Closer than I expected, he takes the door to close it behind us. I grab two glasses and fill them from the pitcher inside the fridge. Setting them on the counter, I let him take his pick.

He chooses me, taking hold of my hand, and folding our fingers together. “If you don’t want to discuss the situation, let’s talk about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about me.”

“I want to know why you’re upset, Poppy.”

I hate that I’m moody, the bubble bursting before I got to fully enjoy what we had. I take a sip of water and then another, the cold liquid soothing as it coats my throat, and then ask, “What do you know about her?”

“Do you really want to talk about this?”

“No, I don’t, but I also can’t ignore it like it’s not there, like she’s not out there now.” I have no idea where this is coming from. “I know I don’t have a right to be mad, but for some reason, I am. I’m sorry.” I pull back and turn away. What am I doing? Why am I pushing away a man who has treated me like his dream come true?

Making matters worse, I start crying. It’s only a few tears, but where are they coming from? Why? I come out of the kitchen and start for the bedroom. I need to leave and get out of here before I make it worse for him as well.

My waist is caught, his body curving around the back of mine. “Laird . . . please.”

“Please what?” he whispers in my ear and then kisses my neck. Not once but three times before he cradles himself around me.

My feet are stuck to the floor, my body refusing to move. I turn in his arms and bury my face in him. Naturally, he smells like what we had together—incredible. Rubbing my back, he dips his head down to press against the side of mine. “Talk to me, baby.”

I try to swipe my tears from my face, but my arms are tucked in too tight to move. So I let his T-shirt catch them and whisper, “It feels like a betrayal. I know that doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t to me, but you had sex with her. You made a baby—”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, you maybe made a baby with her.”

“Are you mad that I’ve had sex with other women? If so, you’ve got me confused with a Boy Scout.” I laugh. I don’t know why I’m laughing as much as I don’t understand the other emotions pouring out of me. He leans back and cups my face, making sure our eyes are set on each other, and says, “I can’t take back what I’ve done for the past fifteen years. I can only be what I am now. So if me not being a virgin—”

Scoffing, I roll my eyes. “No one said you had to be a virgin. I’m just wondering if this person is popping up from your past, how many others will there be?” I’m too unsettled to have my body captured any longer, even if his intentions were good. “What is her financial circumstance? What’s her current relationship status? What is she expecting of you beyond being a father to her child?”

He takes a deep breath, but his eyes are trained on the floor. “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers you’re wanting.” He looks up. “I’m in the dark as much as you.”

“How can that be? You must know something.”

“No . . .” His breath comes harsh, but his words come quietly. “I don’t recognize her name either. I don’t remember who she was. I don’t remember what night I met her. I only know it was in Nashville because of the date listed by her attorney. So that makes things better?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m confident it doesn’t, but now you know as much as I do.”

The landmines he threw between us detonated as planned. Now I know what I shouldn’t, and I’ve made things worse between us.

A paternity test.

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