Page 138 of Tangled up in You

She was already shaking her head even as her stomach gurgled and lurched. “What? No. I can’t be pregnant. It must be something else.”

Two hours later,stunned, Jesse stared at the pregnancy test sitting on her bathroom counter.

No. Nonononononono.

This had to be a mistake.

She looked at the second one.

And the third.

All three testers—different brands—were in agreement that she had a baby on board.

Oh, fuck.

There was no question who the father was—well, okay, there was a 50/50 question about who the father was, but she knew the identities of both 50-percenters, and it had to be one or the other. As she stood there, stunned, she realized her brain refused to process…this.

But yeah, it explained everything she’d felt over the past few of weeks.

What do I do?Would it be weird for Brandt to be its uncle and not even a year older than it?

Him?

Her?

She forced her feet to move and headed to the bedroom, where she heavily dropped onto the bed and tried to…think.

But nothing happened.

Her brain had blue-screened and all she could think about was remembering how badly she’d misjudged the two men.

The heated shame that filled her face when she overheard them talking, well beyond any RSD reaction she’d ever experienced.

Shewasn’t the one who needed therapy—Mark damned sure was. Whatever chip he had on his shoulder, the last thing she needed in her life was the complication of being romantically involved with two men who had the capacity to lead someone on they way they had.

Didn’t need it in her baby’s life, either.

And it wasn’t like she needed their support. She probably made more in a year than both men combined in five years. That was her actual salary, not simply a rich-daddy trust fund handed to her.

And what the fuck was actually wrong with Mark that he was upset over her being wealthy?

It hadn’t bothered Christopher.

Staring at the ceiling, she rested her hands on her tummy.

A tummy now occupied by a permanent reminder of a temporary feeling.

Temporary on the men’s part, anyway.

She might have easily talked herself into thinking it was miscommunication, but they still hadn’t called her, hadn’t tried to contact her in any way except for Christopher’s single text.

That was proof, right? That she’d only been a job at first, then a diversion, then a liability. She damned sure wasn’t going to call them. Not yet. Eventually she’d call or send them a letter or something, but she would handle this on her own.

Damned sure didn’t want to pollute her peace with that kind of bullshit.

CHAPTER 18

JESSE

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