Page 57 of Don't Call Me Sweetheart

Her voice sounded funny. Off, somehow. Not like she was mad or sad or anything so clear-cut as that. Just…not entirely herself. But then, this was an awkward situation and maybe one that was too familiar to her.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just didn’t think.”

“Neither of us did.” She made an agitated sound. “But don’t worry about it. I’ll get Plan B.”

“Oh. Right.” I hadn’t even thought of that. Shit, I was useless right now.

She paused. “Is that… Are you okay with that? I mean, I’m going to do it anyway,” she added hastily. “Because that’s what’s best for me and for Jessica right now. But I know…I know you want kids and a family.”

“Not like this. Not at your expense, I mean. Anyway, Plan B prevents pregnancy. It’s the same outcome as wearing a condom, assuming the condom works.”

“Well, except for the nausea, I hear.”

“Right. Except for that.” Idiot. I banged my forehead on my desk. I was garbage today. She deserved better. She deserved someone who knew how to show up with soup and ice cream and say the perfect things. Not a full-grown man who was still trying to figure out how to be a good boyfriend. “Did I mention I’m sorry?”

“It’s not your fault. I mean, no, it’s both our faults, actually.”

Yes, everyone had final responsibility for their body, I wasn’t going to argue that, but in this case, the fault was definitely more on me. “My dick, my responsibility.”

She laughed. Actually laughed.

“It’s fine,” she said. “Really.” Then she sighed. “I’m not looking forward to picking it up from the pharmacy, though. Someone will see me. They’ll know.”

“I’ll go,” I said immediately. Finally, a way to be useful.

“Someone will still know who it’s for,” she reminded me. “People have seen us together. You have no idea how fast gossip spreads in Hart’s Ridge.”

“So I’ll go to a pharmacy out of town. Asheville, if I have to.”

There was a beat of silence. “Really? You’d do that? That’s a long drive.”

“Of course. I’ll clear my afternoon and go right now.” I was already on my feet. “I’ll text when I’m ten minutes from you.”

“Thank you,” she said softly.

I hung up, grabbed my keys and coat, and unlocked the door. “Patricia, something came up. I’ll be gone for the rest of the day.”

Patricia frowned at me. “All right, but don’t forget you haven’t responded to the invitation to golf with the board of directors. Shall I send your acceptance?”

Right, the board. I had received the invitation yesterday, and Patricia had explained that the principal of Piedmont generally spent a Friday every semester golfing with the board. A networking opportunity, she’d called it. “Yes, thank you, Patricia.”

I glanced at my watch as I exited the building. I had a therapy session scheduled for this evening, but it should be no trouble to be back in time.

I kicked off my shoes at the front door and slid my feet into the shearling moccasins waiting for me. I had thirty minutes until my virtual therapy session with Josh, which was just enough time to get comfortable and clear my mind. Usually what I needed cleared was work, but today it was full of Kate, Kate, Kate.

She had seemed more like herself when I dropped off the meds, along with some ginger ale.

“Don’t you dare make a big deal about this,” she had warned me. “The stigma is ridiculous, and anyway, you know what else nausea is a side effect of?”

“Pregnancy?” I had guessed, like an idiot.

“No.” She had rolled her eyes. “Well, yes. But also regular old birth control pills. Men don’t seem to care too much about that, though, if it means they don’t have to wear a condom.”

“Look,” I had said, “I’m new at all this caring stuff. But if you tell me what to do, I’ll do it. And I promise I won’t ask you to use any kind of birth control you don’t want to.”

She had just laughed and patted my arm. “You’re doing great, honey.”

With five minutes to spare, I propped my laptop on my coffee table—one of the few items I’d kept through all the moves, handmade from wood beams salvaged from DC rowhouses—and clicked on the meeting invite.

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