Page 69 of Single Chance

Grabbing the pedestal sink, I pulled myself up and stood, leaned over the basin, and splashed cold water on my face. When I straightened, I saw Sam take a couple steps back from the doorway. I met her gaze in the mirror.

“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t want to catch whatever you have.”

“It’s not contagious.” I said it without thinking, then pumped soap into my hands and scrubbed them.

“Did you eat something bad?” she asked. “We all had the same beef stir-fry last night, but I feel okay.”

“It’s not from food,” I said, gauging how I felt now. Better still. I could probably handle work as long as I didn’t start feeling worse again.

“Oh, my God,” Sam said. “Are you pregnant? Is this morning sickness?”

I dried my hands and face, thinking I should replace the towel, when her questions hit me.

Shit.

Again I made eye contact through the mirror, my mind spinning through options. I could lie, or I could tell her the truth before Chance was ready. I didn’t like to lie, and it would be the stupidest lie anyway, as reality would prove otherwise within weeks.

“I am,” I finally said.

I no sooner got the words out than the door to the garage shut again.

“What’s going on?” Chance asked his daughter. He couldn’t see into the bathroom from the utility room.

Sam looked to me, which had Chance peeking into the bathroom.

“Rowan was hurling,” she said.

“Damn.” Chance stepped closer. “Morning sickness?” he asked me.

I nodded, wiping my face with the towel one more time.

He put a hand on my back. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You knew she was pregnant,” Sam stated instead of questioned.

“Do you want some tea or water?” Chance asked me, not seeming to hear Sam.

“Not yet,” I said. “The bacon smell just hit me wrong.”

“Oh, my God, is the baby yours, Dad?”

I snapped my gaze to Chance’s. My panic was reflected in his eyes.

“Dad?”

My heart hammered while Sam looked from her dad to me and back, her eyes narrowed. This was Chance’s question to answer. I held my breath, waiting to hear what he would say.

“Why don’t we move out of the bathroom?” Chance said.

Sam held on to the doorjamb, blocking our way.

“It’s a simple yes-no question.” Sam’s tone was harder. “Rowan? Is he the father?”

“Yes,” Chance snapped. Then he closed his eyes and seemed to gather his patience. “This wasn’t how I planned to tell you, Sam. Can we please sit down?” He gestured to the kitchen.

Sam stepped back, looking as if someone had slapped her.

Chance put his hand on her shoulder, and she jerked away.

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