Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake (A Brush with Love, #2)(26)

And she also knew that it was time to really look at what she did for ADHD management.

And there wasn’t much.

She had a psychiatrist and a prescription and a mountain of abandoned self-help workbooks piled up in the corner of her room, but when it came down to it, she went at life with a wish and a prayer, flailing about as she barreled full speed ahead and tried to fit into society’s definition of normal.

It was like trying to squeeze herself into a life that didn’t quite fit. It pinched at her ribs, dug under her arms, painfully straightened her knees and elbows. And when it all was too uncomfortable, sex was her outlet. Her unsanctioned therapy with a quick, feel-good reward that soothed over every aching nerve.

But Lizzie couldn’t stay on this trajectory—pushing her brain to fit the wrong mold until the pressure built too high—not with another person to take care of.

So, she decided to start simple.

After having an emergency call with her psychiatrist and confirming it was safe to keep taking her meds while pregnant, Lizzie set a daily alarm to remind her to take them. She set the orange bottle directly in her line of sight on her nightstand, completing a task she’d procrastinated on for years.

It was a small thing, but it felt like a metal band was unclamped from around her chest, creating a small blossom of hope that the work she needed to do to take care of her brain might not always be quite as backbreaking as she anticipated.

With this tiny boost in self-confidence, she decided to tackle something else she could feel herself putting off.

Lizzie grabbed her phone and scrolled through her texts, searching for the three eggplants and exploding-head emojis she’d marked Rake’s name with.

She stared at the last message he’d sent:

Thanks for a great time. Let me know if you ever find yourself in Sydney

Great time. That’s all Lizzie ever was. The perfect person in small doses. That bucket list type of person who made for a memorable weekend, a wild story, but was always a little too much to keep around for the long term.

How was she supposed to tell him? She wanted to rip the Band-Aid off; her bones ached with the need to get it over with as soon as possible. But what words do you use to tell a near stranger you’re carrying their baby and you want to keep it?

Hey, Rake! Just the girl from Philly that rode your face the first night we met! Wanna hear something hilarious? I’m pregnant lol

Rakeeeeeee. It’s ya girl, Lizzie. How’ve you been? Anyway, have you ever seen the movie Juno?

Remember that time I told you I always come prepared and had a fuck ton of condoms in my purse? Turns out they were expired and guess who’s pregnant??? Lol isn’t life funny?

She blew out a deep breath and tapped through to his number, pressing the call button before she could overthink it anymore.

It rang.

And rang.

She simultaneously dreaded the sound of him answering as much as the sound of his voicemail.

Just when she thought it would ring forever, Rake’s voice came through the line.

“Lizzie?” he answered, his accent purring with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Lizzie couldn’t help the little puff of nervous laughter that escaped her lips. “Hey, yeah. It’s me. Lizzie. Not sure if you remember me. The girl from Philly.” Her voice was hoarse, tense.

“Like I could forget you, Birdy. How are you?” His words were light, but an undercurrent of sensuality punctuated each one, stirring her pulse. She pushed those feelings away.

“I have something I have to tell you. Something serious.”

There was silence on the line, a pause that felt, well, pregnant.

“What’s wrong?” he asked at last, all humor gone from his voice.

Tears pricked at Lizzie’s eyes again. She couldn’t seem to pull herself together. “I—” She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she clutched the phone to her ear. “I’m pregnant.”

There.

The words were out.

They’d left her throat and traveled across miles and wires and oceans and mountains to the other side of the world and into Rake’s ears. She’d done it.

But the silence stretched. It grew and pushed, and Lizzie checked that the call wasn’t dropped three times before a hoarse noise broke through the line.

“What?” he finally managed, barely an audible whisper.

“I’m pregnant,” she said more firmly. “And I … I’m planning on keeping it. I just thought you should know.”

“Is it … are you sure it’s mine?”

“Okay, fuck you, I’m hanging up,” Lizzie said, indignation flaring across her skin and lighting up in her veins.

“No! No. I’m sorry. Don’t hang up.” She heard him take a few rattling breaths through the phone, a gulping sound. “That was a terrible way to say that. I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I think I’m … in shock? I’m not sure. Are you sure, though?”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s yours, you giant-cocked dickhead.”

“So you aren’t—or you weren’t on birth control?”

“Were you?! Oh no, that’s right. The pill is the woman’s job. Heaven forbid it makes her feel like total shit and she choose not to take it.”

“I’m sorry!” Rake’s voice was close to a shout.