Chapter 2
Chapter 2
T hree weeks later, Sully started to let go of the guilt. Bailey had been on her honeymoon for eight of those days, allowing his conscience a reprieve. When he faced her again, he had to fight the urge to confess as if she were a priest. It would do nothing to make the situation better, might complicate the relationship between the two sisters, and would likely end in his death. If Bailey found out what Sully had done with her baby sister, she would kill him, literally end his life. He would be her twelfth kill, and she would likely not feel a whit of remorse about it, and neither should she. How could he have had such a horrible lapse in judgment? He was monogamous and disciplined, the kind of man who took relationships seriously. And yet he’d had a one-night stand, his first ever, with his close friend’s little sister. Worse, he still didn’t know her name. And there was no good way to ask. If he brought it up now, Bailey would be suspicious.
His only hope was that the mystery sister would let it go and move on, as he was trying hard to do. If she went crazy and started stalking him, he was sunk. Three weeks in, he began to relax. He hadn’t glimpsed her again before she left town, and he hadn’t heard from her. Of course she didn’t have his number, but if she really wanted it, she could find it.
Just as he began to let down his guard and move on, he received a text from an unknown number. He was about to delete it when the name caught his attention.
This is Poppy Dunbar, Bailey’s sister. From the gazebo. I was going to call, but I figured you wouldn’t answer an unknown number.
His heart sank. She wasn’t going to let it go. She was reaching out, and propriety forced him to respond, much as he wanted to let it go and forget everything, mostly his glaring lapse in judgment and self-control.
Hi, how have you been? He hit send and waited anxiously. Maybe she was feeling as guilty as he was. Maybe they could hash it out and both move on. The realty was he had no idea because he didn’t know her at all, though now he knew her name. Poppy. It fit somehow, and he smiled slightly at the memory of her smile, pushing away all the other memories of her that tried to intrude. The phone buzzed, and he held it aloft, reading.
I’m pregnant.
He stared at the words, unable to comprehend them. With shaking fingers, he managed to type a single word:
What?
Don’t make me retype it. You seem like the kind of guy who would like to know, so this is me, letting you know. Otherwise I’m fine. No involvement from you necessary, unless you’d prefer it that way. Cheers.
Cheers? Cheers?? Who ends a text that way? Who texts that sort of information in the first place? He called her, and it went to voicemail, her sparkling voice inviting him to skip the message and “text like normal people instead.” He didn’t leave a message, but neither did he text a reply. He couldn’t possibly. What could he say to that? There was nothing, no reply he’d be able to conjure that would match what she wrote.
He contemplated going to Cal and Bailey, laying it on the line, and asking for advice. After all, they knew her. Maybe they would have some insight into her character, would give him some understanding of what type of person she was. Was she actually a serial one-nighter? Did she routinely trick and trap men into fatherhood? Then he imagined asking Bailey those questions about her little sister and realized how it would sound. What it came down to, no matter what, was that he was a man and he had gotten a woman pregnant. His mother had given him several lectures on the subject throughout his teenage years, but back then there’d been no need. And now, at the ripe age of nearly thirty, he had turned into a monumental screwup. And it was time to take charge and fix it.
He picked up his phone again and made a call to his boss, cashing in a few days of unused personal time. Next he booked a flight. After that he did call Cal because he had no idea how to find Poppy.
“Hey, Sul, what’s up?” Cal asked, and Sully’s chest knifed with renewed guilt.
Not much, got your sister-in-law pregnant. What’s new with you? “I’m heading to New York for a few days of vacation. I remember Bailey said her sister works there in a restaurant, and I thought it would be fun to try it.” He held his breath. Did that sound like a reasonable explanation, or would Cal be able to hear the anxiety in his tone?
“It’s a fancy place,” Cal said.
“I’ve been known to shower and put on a tie,” Sully replied dryly.
Cal laughed. “I believe it. It’s called Burton’s . If you go, give us a report and say hello to Poppy for us.”
“Will do,” Sully promised.
“Word of warning, that gal is ornery. Hold on to your hat,” Cal said.
“Will do,” Sully repeated. “Thanks.” He disconnected before the call could devolve or spiral out of control. And then sat still in his truck, his mind playing six words on repeat. I’m going to be a dad. Regardless of the shock, the shame, the guilt, it wasn’t an unhappy thought.
P oppy’s stomach rolled and tossed, the smell of butter almost her undoing. The nausea had started two days ago, adding to the litany of symptoms now assaulting her. She knew immediately she was pregnant. Almost as soon as she left Texas, the exhaustion hit like a sledgehammer. A few days later she developed a metallic taste in her mouth, as if she’d been sucking on pennies. A few days after that, she took a test. It was positive. Yesterday she went to the free clinic for another test and an ultrasound. Both things confirmed what she already knew—she was growing a human.
The first difficult step was over. She told the baby daddy, whose name she now knew was Sully. She could only imagine what he must think of her, especially based on her actions and the things she’d said. She’d been having a bad night after her sister’s wedding, a few moments of self-pity in an otherwise good day. And he’d gotten the blast end of it, the blast end of her pathetically tossing herself at him and laying out for him her absolute ineptness as a human being. The thing was, she wasn’t that inept. True, she was occasionally impulsive and made some bad decisions, including some poor dating choices. But she had never tumbled into bed with a stranger before. Ever. Worse, there hadn’t even been a bed. There had been a gazebo, a very public gazebo that likely violated several Texas laws. As a park ranger, Sully should probably have known that. Not that he seemed at all in control of himself, either.
Both of them had messed up, monumentally. And now she was left with the lasting effect of yet another poor choice. All those warnings she read in the subway really were true—it only took a moment to live with a lifetime of regret. Not that a baby could ever be a regret. She would love it the best she knew how, as would everyone in her family when she eventually told them. But at some point she would have to make a decision about her career and her future, and she felt sick about that. The stats on single mothers weren’t good. In fact, they were abysmal. Was she prepared to spend the next two decades of her life in poverty or, worse, on welfare? She shuddered, imagining all the times she would now have to swallow her pride for the sake of her child.
And she could forget having a social or dating life after this. It was hard enough to find nice guys to date when she wasn’t knocked up or toting a kid. From now on she would have to put it out of her head completely. She was doomed to roam the earth alone, as penance for her night of passion. It was likely the guy in question, Sully, would go on to fall in love, get married, and have an intact family of his own while she, Poppy, remained a pariah for eternity. As a culture, they hadn’t come all that far from The Scarlet Letter. The weight of everything was on the woman—of pregnancy, of birth, of childrearing. She would be the one to give up her career, not him. She would be the one to bear the weight of judgment, not him. It was likely no one would ever even know about his part in things. She would certainly never tell. Bailey would kill her and then probably kill him.
Still, she wasn’t remotely tempted to “get rid of it,” as some euphemistically termed it. She had done the crime, so to speak. Now it was up to her to do the time. The upside was that Poppy loved babies. Soon she would have one of her own, even if she had no earthly idea how she would take care of it.
There was always adoption, but Poppy wasn’t sure she had the internal fortitude and selflessness necessary for such an act. On the plus side, she had a lot of time to think about it. Nine months, in fact. Surely in that time her brain could find some kind of resolution and make a plan, even though planning had never been her strong suit before.
“Poppy.”
An unknown voice said her name. She turned with a smile that quickly faded. The park ranger stood in the tiny basement kitchen of her work, filling the space with his broad shoulders and white cowboy hat. Poppy stumbled back a step, bumping the counter.
“You,” she breathed, momentarily forgetting his name.
“Sully,” he reminded her.
“I know,” she said, though she was thankful for the reminder. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.”
“I’m working.”
“We need to talk,” he reiterated.
“I’m working.”
“Give me a time, or so help me I’ll carry you out of here,” he said.
“I get off at ten.” She flicked her fingers at him, shooing him away.
He stared around the tiny kitchen, undaunted. “I thought this would be bigger.”
“It’s New York. Nothing is big,” she said.
“Hmm,” he said and slowly ambled away.
With effort, Poppy pulled her mind back to her work. Baking was the only thing that had ever held her interest for more than a flicker, the only thing she could lose herself in entirely. She did it now, and never had she been more thankful for the ability.
Promptly at ten, Sully waited outside the door. She exited with her coworkers, laughing. Every one of them stopped short, staring at the tall cowboy by the door. It was a testament to how arresting he was that hardened New Yorkers did a double take.
“See you, guys. This one’s here for me,” Poppy said, pausing beside Sully while the rest of her group trudged away, a few of them darting questioning glances in her direction.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Very much no,” she said, grimacing as she pressed a hand to her abdomen.
“It doesn’t start that soon, does it? The sickness?” he asked.
“I could throw up on your shoes, if you like. To prove it does.”
He shook his head, but he still looked troubled. Poppy sighed. “It’s yours, okay? Believe me, there is absolutely, positively, Immaculate Conception level of no doubt. I’d be happy to have a DNA test, after it’s born, if you’d like.”
“I didn’t doubt it was mine. I felt bad that you’re already sick,” he assured her, but he did feel better. Maybe there had been a tiny spot of unacknowledged doubt in his mind. After all, he knew less than nothing about her.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked.
“Do you have a hotel room?” she asked.
Taken aback, he was unable to hide his shocked reaction. She rolled her eyes. “I was not inviting myself over for a retake. But my apartment isn’t exactly conducive to conversation. I thought the lobby of your hotel might be better.”
He shrugged. “I figured I would find a place after we spoke.” In truth, he was so panicked he hadn’t given much thought to anything beyond arriving and tracking her down. He didn’t even have his luggage. He had left it in a locker at the airport, not realizing how far the airport was from the city.
“Oh, honey, this is New York. You will positively not find a hotel at this time of night. Come on, we’ll have to make the best of it at my place.” She took a few steps away, and he easily caught up with her.
“We could go somewhere. For coffee or something,” he suggested.
“No offense, but I’m exhausted and I’ve been on my feet the last ten hours. I want to go home and lie down.”
“Do you always walk?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Why? Why not take a taxi?”
She stopped short. “Have you ever been to New York before?”
He shook his head.
“It would cost about fifty dollars a day to take a taxi. Walking is king here, and it’s not so far.”
“But it’s night. That’s when all the crazies come out,” he said, looking around to make sure there were none in sight.
“It’s New York. The crazies are always out,” she rebutted. “And I usually walk a portion of the way with my coworkers.” She held her hand out to him like she was the mom and he was the reluctant toddler. “Coming?”
He did a quick mental review of the pros and cons of taking her hand. Con, she might take it the wrong way. Pro, he needed the reassurance of holding on to her, of believing this was real. He clasped her hand and allowed her to tug him forward.