Page 107 of Puck Princess

He knows he upset me. I can tell by the curling edge of his smirk—the same one Spencer gets when he feels he’s dominating a conversation.

“Don’t let me stop you from yourwork.” I hear the air quotes he’s mentally putting around that word.

I don’t know what Rodger Santos knows about me and his son’s relationship. Maybe he talks to everyone like they are rotting roadkill at his feet. Either way, I won’t let him intimidate me.

I start to turn my back on him, but he stops me.

“Oh, and Callie? How did you like the flowers?”

My stomach bottoms out completely.

He knows.

I can’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. If I open my mouth, I’ll scream.

With that question hanging in the air, Rodger Santos and the rest of the men trailing behind him leave.

“Flowers?” Lance asks. “Who gave you flowers?”

“He did,” I breathe. My words are quiet. Robotic. More to myself than in response to Lance’s question.

“Why would Rodger Santos send you flowers?”

I manage to snap out of it. The last thing I need is Lance catching on to how upset I am and then telling Owen. I force a smile. “When I started the job. People sent flowers.”

My hands are trembling, my insides twisting into knots I may never undo.

Lance nods slowly, but his eyes narrow. He’s not the only one keeping secrets.

35

CALLIE

“How are you feeling?” The OB snaps her gloves on as she preps for the ultrasound.

I’m lying on the table, Owen by my side. How it’s been twenty weeks already, I have no idea. I wrap my brain around it. But as she applies the jelly to my bump, I realize just how obvious this little human is becoming.

“I’ve been good. Tired.”

“That’s normal before and after pregnancy.” She chuckles at her own joke as she pulls out the wand. My chest fills with butterflies. “Alright, next question: do you want to know?”

“Do we want to know what?” Owen asks.

He’s been staring at the screen almost since the minute we walked in the room. It’s like he lives for these little glimpses of our baby.

If he’s this excited before the baby is here, how much more in love is he going to be when they’re in our arms?

The image of Owen cradling our child is actually too much for me to handle. I have to bury it deep down so I can focus.

“Well, assuming baby plays along, we should be able to see the gender today,” the doctor explains. “But it’s up to the two of you whether you want to find out or not.

I look at Owen, and he looks at me. I bite my lip. His eyes warm as they meet mine.

“Your call,” he says, squeezing my hand.

Owen and I have sat up many nights, going back and forth about names and possible futures for this little one we made. We tangled together in bed and dream up what our family might look like.

It’s been nice.

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