Page 52 of Silver Fox's Secret Baby

For a second, my mind goes to Grant. Despite just emptying my stomach, I feel like there are still rocks rolling around in there. Every one of our phone calls, no matter how they end, has made me feel sick to my stomach.

They’ve never made meactuallysick.

Unless…

No. I’m not going to think like that. There’s no way I could be pregnant. Okay. Notnoway, but…

One bout of nausea doesn’t mean anything. And that’s the story I’m sticking to.

* * *

The next day,the nausea comes again. And two bouts of nausea make things harder to ignore. It’s clear to me that it’s not a stomach bug. There are no other symptoms. Just bouts of vomiting and then…I’m normal. Except for my increased hankering for coffee cakes. And…if I’m honest with myself, my breasts are kind of tender.

I’m willing to wait for a third bout to establish a pattern, but that all changes when I get a text from Grant about midway through my Sunday.

Just landed. I want to see you.

And there’s no way I can see him and not knowfor surethat I’m not…pregnant.

God, just thinking the word makes me lightheaded.

So, I make an emergency appointment with my gyno. I’m lucky she’s just had an opening tomorrow morning, bright and early. I’ll take the first half of the day off, pray that I’m overreacting, and then head into work to interview my latest subject.

Scratch that, that isn’t going to work. I’ll have to get Dre to cover for me in case I’m in full crisis. He’s done it once before when I came down with a nasty bout of bronchitis. He can do it again.

Hopefully, that will just be the price of my peace of mind.

* * *

“How doyou want to proceed, Harley?”

She may as well have not said anything. Because the rest of the world is tuned out, replaying the words she’s just said to me on repeat.

“Your urine sample came back positive. You’re pregnant.”

Twenty-six is hardly too young to have a baby, but I feel like I’ve just started to lay down roots and grow again after all my time in Australia.

Not to mention the father. Dear god,the fatherof my baby…is my father’s best friend and nearly twice my age.

The father of my baby is Grant Neville.

I’ve always played it a little bit fast and loose. Risk keeps it fun.

And now, all of that playing has come to bite me in the ass.

“Harley?”

“I don’t–” I shoot my head up to look at her. “I don’t know.”

Dr. Freeman smiles at me gently. “That’s okay. It’s a big decision.” She looks down at her chart. “Your hCG levels still suggest things are early. You have time to rest and think about it.”

I take a deep breath. “Thanks.” My voice cracks. And suddenly, tears are streaming down my face.

“Oh, honey, it’s okay. Here, take my hand.”

I take Dr. Freeman’s hand as she consoles me. She’s no stranger to that. One time I thought I had an ovarian cyst that turned out to be really bad gas and she really supported me through that even though I was being a bit dramatic.

“You are totally in charge of this. It’s your body,” Dr. Freeman coos.

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