Page 31 of Draft Pick

Darby could handle both of those options.

And then, I needed to talk to Cason.

At the thought of that conversation, my nausea returned like a tsunami. I whirled around and barfed again, barely making the bowl.

Danielle made a gagging noise and backed out of the bathroom. "I can't…oh my god, so gross."

Was this what the next nine months were going to be like? Me, taking up permanent residence in the bathroom with my head in a toilet bowl?

Good grief, I didn't think I was strong enough to handle that prospect.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door opening abruptly and slamming as Darby ran around the corner to the bathroom shocked me out of my stupor. "Darby? What are you doing here?"

"Oh my God, Danielle called me and said you needed me ASAP. Are you okay?"

I yelled at Danielle, "I told you not to say anything!"

"I didn't!" Danielle poked her head back into the bathroom. "But you didn't say anything about telling Darby you were having a crisis."

The devil was in the details.

Damn her, but also pretty brilliant. I needed Darby, and Danielle got her for me without expressly spilling the beans. The woman was smarter than I gave her credit.

Darby helped me from the floor, concern etched on her face. "What's going on?"

I couldn't say the words. Not yet. Instead, I let my gaze drift to the pregnancy box stuffed in the trash and Darby followed, only to gasp with the appropriate level of horror. "Oh my God, Starlie! What the hell… you're…pregnant?"

I nodded, fresh tears springing to my eyes.

Dread followed as she said, "Please say it's not Derek's."

"God no!" The thought of Derek touching me made me want to vomit all over again, but thankfully, I had nothing left to barf.

"Thank God for small favors," Darby said. "So if not Derek, who?"

"The only other person I've had sex with since Derek," I returned, wiping at my leaking eyes.

Darby sucked in a big breath as her mouth formed a perfect "O" as the realization struck home. "Cason Alexander! You're kidding me!"

"Nothing about this situation seems remotely worth joking about."

She sobered quickly. "Right, of course not." Darby went into problem-solving mode. "Okay, let's get you off the floor and wipe you down because you smell like barf and then we'll talk about what we're going to do."

I didn't have the mental energy to protest, and I did smell. I stripped and dressed in clean clothing, rinsed my mouth, and met Darby in the living room. I sank into the sofa and curled my legs beneath me, wanting to disappear.

"How did this happen?" Darby asked, but before I returned with sarcasm 'the usual way' she clarified, "Did the condom break or something? Because I know you're really good about using protection."

"That's just it, I usually am very good," I wailed. "There was one time that we didn't use a condom but he pulled out so I figured it would probably be okay."

Darby fixed me with a stern look. "Girl, you're too grown to use that excuse. Didn't you pay attention to health class in high school? Even that crusty fossil Mrs. Heitz knew the pull-out method was only 80 percent effective! Seriously, what were you thinking?"

"Clearly, I wasn't," I returned dryly. "I rolled the dice and lost, obviously."

Darby nodded, accepting that answer because what was done was done. Now we had to talk about options. "Okay, so you're pregnant with Cason's kid. Does he know?"

"Hell no," I shot back, "and I don't even know if I'm going to tell him."

"Why not?" Darby asked.

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