Page 59 of Falling For My Best Friend's Brother

Sighing, I checked my phone again, relieved that I’d succeeded in whiling away time.

That relief, however, went down the freaking drain when my gaze landed on the strip, and saw the little blue positive sign.

***

If I thought I was freaking out earlier, well… let’s just say I’d been horribly wrong.

In the space of five hours, I’d laughed, cried, panicked, hyperventilated, and almost passed out because of shock.

I was pregnant.You hear that? Pregnant!

It was the most ridiculous thing that could have happened. No. The important question was,howdid it happen? How on earth was there a baby growing inside me? My calculations were correct. We never used a condom, but… fucking hell. It’d been a year since I took out my birth control and I’d had sex during that time, hadn’t I? I tried to think back, wondering if I’d ever had unprotected sex with anyone but came up blank. Even Michael had used condoms.

I facepalmed, dropping onto the edge of my bed as my tears fell. I was a fool. Pregnant at twenty-three? By a man who didn’t want to hear about my feelings, who only wanted what was convenient? A man who touched me like I was priceless, but couldn’t see past his own fears or desires to want more with me?

The first person I wanted to tell was Lindsay. But I’d managed to completely fuck that one up, too. Calling my mother wasn’t an option either. I already knew whatshewould say:“It isn’t about money, my sweetheart. It’s about the fact that you’re too young to be a mother, much less a single one.”

And she would be right.

Turned out I still had more tears to cry, because now I was full-on sobbing. Angry, helpless loud sounds that even with my palms pressed against my face did little to muffle. There were so many emotions raging inside me, the top of them being hurt.

It hurt that I’d betrayed my best friend, and it hurt that the man I’d fallen in love with did not think I was worthy enough to desire more than sex. It hurt that my parents did not see my love forpainting as something important, and it fucking hurt that my painting had been up online for more than a week and I had yet to receive a decent offer. And God, it hurt so fucking bad that I was young and pregnant and entirely alone.

Late in the evening, a knock sounded on my door. Sluggishly, I crawled out of bed where I’d been laying for hours and went to open the door, coming face-to-face with Knox.

He looked tired. Handsome as ever, but tired. Dark circles had formed underneath his eyes, which had lost some of their shine since the last time I saw him. Even the stubble on his chin that was usually low and well-kept had overgrown. We’d not spoken for two days. I missed him so much, and I couldn’t help wondering if he missed me, too.

“Hey,” he murmured, leaning against the wall and pressing his forehead to the concrete as he looked down at me.

I inhaled. I missed hearing his voice. I missed his touch, too.

“Hey,” I whispered back, holding his gaze as my thoughts ran. I was pregnant by this man. We were going to have a baby together. If I kept this child, our lives would forever remain intertwined.

I had no idea if I should be happy or terrified about that little tidbit of information.

“How are you?” he asked, and I thought he inched closer a bit because I could smell his cologne.

Terrible.

Licking my lips, I gave him a half-truth. “Hanging in there. You?”

His eyes closed for a brief second. “Same.”

I nodded softly. Neither of us said a word for a while; we just stared at each other as many words and emotions flowed between us. He hadn’t been okay—I could tell by the barely concealed anguish swirling in his eyes. Could he tell that it was the same for me, too? Did he notice that I’d spent all day crying?

The topic of Lindsay hung between us. I wondered if he’d spoken to her. If he had, I wanted to know if everything was good between them. The last thing I wanted was to come between brother and sister because I didn’t have the sense to not fall for him.

“Nina,” he started, his jaw tightening. “I came here to tell you something.”

“What is it?”

A pregnant pause. “I’m leaving today. I’m going back home.”

The words washed over me like a bucket of chilled water. I inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling dizzy. The contents of my stomach threatened to travel back to my mouth, and I clamped down on my tongue to keep it down.

“Oh,” I finally forced out in a quick breath as I felt something tickle at the back of my eyes.

Stop that, I told myself. I would not cry. Not in front of him.

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