One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(56)

“Umm, let’s say someone forget to take their birth control pills and then had . . . um, unprotected sex against a wall in a dressing room. What are the chances they could get pregnant?”

“Please tell me you’re asking for a friend.”

“I wish I was.”

“Oh Adalyn, what the hell were you thinking?”

Pressing my hand against my forehead, I groan. “I wasn’t thinking. The man had me so horny from his photo shoot and holding out on me, that I kind of just jumped his bones the minute the opportunity presented itself.”

“Which was in a dressing room against a wall?”

“Yes, but for what it’s worth, it was the best sex I’ve ever had . . . until he took me back to the hotel and fucked me in the shower.”

“Let me guess, no condom?”

Oh Jesus Christ.

What the hell was I thinking? Did I really lose all common sense the minute Hayden’s penis made an appearance?

Thinking back . . . I cringe. Yup. All common sense when out the door once pants were shucked. I’m one of those girls. One of those girls you look at and think in this day of age, how can you possibly forget about birth control or condoms? And I’m a freaking nurse. I should know better. Ugh, I do know better.

Two words: Hayden’s cock.

Oh God, it is such a nice cock. Long and thick with the perfect head. Slightly curved up so every time he pulsed inside me, it was reaching for that one spot, that one spot he hit every time.

“Oh Adalyn.” I don’t have to answer; my silence is enough. She knows. “How is that possible?”

Burying my head in my knees, I say, “It was the dick. The dick did it to me.”

Sighing on the other end of the phone, Emma says, “Damn the dick. Damn all the dicks.”

My sentiment exactly.

I’m not pregnant.

Nope.

After my revelation this morning, my minor slip-up on the no-baby train, I have convinced myself I am in fact not pregnant. There is no way Hayden’s athletic sperm, which I’m sure is super healthy and ready to impregnate, broke through my superior eggs. Nope, my eggs are on total lockdown.

Not only do my eggs laugh at little sperm who try to break through, but they are reinforced with steel metal and surrounded by sperm-eating acid.

You read that correctly: sperm-eating acid.

There are only a few of us who possess such defenses in our uteruses, and I am one of them. A medical marvel I must say.

And to hammer it home, I’ve spent the entire morning talking to my uterus, telling her that she’s still a single lady and she’s not eating for two.

It has helped. I’ve completely forgotten about forgetting to take my pills, or letting Hayden pound into me thrust after thrust with nothing separating my superior eggs from his athletic man-sperm.

Yup, not thinking about it at all.

Not one bit.

Leaning against the wall of a hospital, I squeeze my eyes shut.

I’m so pregnant.

My nipples have been tingling all morning, isn’t that a sign? That has to be a sign. And my scrubs are tighter. It’s not my imagination, they are tighter and yeah, I might have been eating more cake than normal, but it’s because I’m pregnant.

There is life inside of me.

Shit . . .

I can’t think like that. You are not pregnant, Adalyn.

Repeat after me: you are not pregnant. You are not pregnant.

“Hey there.” Logan bumps my shoulder, leaning against the stark hospital wall with me, glancing at the clipboard clutched to my chest. “Holding back some secret information?”

“What?” I take in the clipboard I have a death grip on. “Uh, no, just . . . God, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Ah.” Logan knowingly nods his head. “So you’ve heard.”

So I’ve heard? Heard what? Oh God, can he tell I’m pregnant already?

I know, I’m in the medical field, I know how babies are conceived, it doesn’t show that quickly but I’m borderline hysterical right now so my mind is not quite making any sense.

“When I saw it trending on Twitter, I immediately thought of you.”

Okay, my possible pregnancy is definitely not trending on Twitter, because not enough people would care to make an idiot nurse who forgot to take birth control pills a trending topic. Although, as a society, we should continue to educate the youth about pregnancy. And I would be a prime example of what not to do.

Wanting to play it cool, as if I’m in the know, I say, “Oh yeah, why did you think of me immediately?”

His brow pinches together and he lifts off the wall. “Uh, because you’re dating him.”

For a brief second—very brief—I think that maybe my pregnancy is trending on Twitter, but I shake that thought straight from my head.

Don’t be a moron, Adalyn. For Christ’s sake, you’re not pregnant.

“Dating Hayden.” I nod, lips pressed together, still unsure what Logan could be talking about.

“From the blank look in your eyes, I’m going to assume you don’t know.”

Guilty.

“Yeah, I didn’t check the old Twitter yet today.” I’ve had embryos on the mind. “What’s going on? Did his underwear ad go viral?”

“No . . . Adalyn, he was traded.”