Page 47 of Broken Daddy

“You’re going out?”

I can’t really deny it. My purse is slung over my shoulder and I’ve changed out of comfy sweats and into a skirt.

“Um…yeah. Just need to make a quick stop at the pharmacy—”

His features tighten and I sigh internally. Nate has a habit of bossing me around, and although under the right circumstances I’mveryinto it, right now, I find it frustrating.

“You shouldn’t be going out alone. Not with that…” His eyes drop to Eva as she watches the two of us curiously. We’ve been careful not to talk about the last few weeks’ events in front of her. She’s too excited about having me in the house to bother asking why I moved out of the pool house in the first place.

“…person still around. I’ll drive you.”

“No.”

The denial comes out fast and harsh. Nate’s face goes blank as he stares up the stairs at me. Eva, fully aware of the vibe we’re putting off, looks anxiously between us.

“No. I’ll be fine. And you have Eva, anyway.”

“Eva, honey, go put the rest of your game away. We talked about cleaning up after yourself earlier, remember?”

She gives her father a sullen look but heads off to the living room. Nate turns his attention back to me.

“What’s going on?”

I think I might be pregnant.

That’s a bomb I don’t want to drop. Especially not to the guy who isdefinitelythe dad if I am pregnant.

My stomach knots in anxiety and I press a hand to it. Nate’s gaze drops.

“I’ll be fine. Really, Nathan, I can get to the pharmacy and back by myself.”

“Last time, they slashed your tires. We still don’t know who it is and it’s been a while since they tried anything.”

A little over a week, actually. Not that I’m counting…or awaiting the next attack full of adrenaline and anxiety.

“I was just in the city yesterday!”

Right before we fucked. In the barn. On the table.

Oh, God.

That’s exactly how this whole mess started. A night of anxious googling led to the conclusion that I’m either pregnant enough for symptoms to start becoming obvious, or there’s something seriously wrong with my digestive system.

Unfortunately, all signs point to…

Nathan Sharpe.

“What about Eva?”

He glances into the living room, where she’s gone suspiciously quiet. Taking two slow steps up the stairs, so that we’re almost nose to nose, he says quietly, “She can go to the neighbor’s. I’ll let Liz know it’s an emergency.”

Rolling my eyes, I insist, “It’snot,though.”

“You seem like you’re in a rush to get whatever it is you need. And you have a stalker. So, yes. It is an emergency.”

“Stalkeris a strong word.”

“Is it? Forget about the slur on your apartment door, did you?”

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