Page 128 of Puck Princess

Fuck.

“It’s too soon for that.”

The desperate sheen in her eyes tells me she knows that, but it doesn’t change the reality.

“Owen,” she hiccups, clinging to me. “I’m scared.”

And just like that, the last puzzle piece snaps into place.

I don’t care who the biological father of this baby is. I don’t care about Callie’s past.

This woman is mine. The baby she’s carrying is mine.

And I’m not going to let anything happen to either of them.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, bending down to scoop her into my arms. I cradle her against my chest. I can feel her warm, shaky breath against my neck as I carry her to the door. “I got you, Callie. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to make sure it’s okay.”

42

CALLIE

“Braxton Hicks.” The OB wraps her stethoscope around her neck and peels off her gloves.

“Who’s that?” Owen asks, his hand strangling the life out of mine.

I know he’s here to support me, but the death grip he’s got on four of my fingers tells me he’s as much of a mess as I am. I’ve never seen someone drive so fast, yet so carefully to a hospital before in my life.

But the words that just came out of my doctor’s mouth make me want to sob. For the first time all night, they’d be happy tears.

“Not a who, a what,” she laughs. “False contractions. I know sometimes they feel like the real thing, but you are not in labor and everything looks great with baby. You have nothing to be concerned about.”

“Thank God.” Owen deflates in his chair like a balloon.

“They felt real,” I say, half embarrassed and half disbelieving. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize for coming in to make sure everything is fine. Better safe than sorry,” she assures me. “But everything looks great. You’re doing everything right.”

If only that was true.

She makes her way out of the hospital room to give us some privacy, and the moment the door closes, we’re left in the thick silence of exactly how un-right things went tonight.

I look at Owen. He looks at me.

I know he’s happy that I’m okay and that the baby is okay… but he isn’t happy with me. I can’t even blame him.

My lip quivers, but I hold back tears. I’m not the one who deserves to cry right now.

“I’m sorry.” My voice is barely audible.

He doesn’t respond.

“I know I should have told you, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt and?—”

“So you put yourself in danger, instead. To do what?” he snaps. “To protect me from the truth? For Christ’s fucking sake, Callie.”

“It wasn’t just about me or you. Kennedy?—”

“I don’t give afuck—” His voice raises nearly to a yell on the last word, but he reels it back in, “—what Kennedy thinks about all of this. What I care about is that you lied. I mean,fuckSpencer Santos? It was Spencer Santos this whole time, and you didn’t think that maybe I should know? He was working in the same building as you.”

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