Unbreak My Heart (Unbreak My Heart #1)(14)

“Why wouldn’t you?” she cut me off, her voice panicked.

“No, I do.” I shook my head. This wasn’t going the way I’d planned. “I’m just saying, in case you were worried, you can still hang out with the kids.”

I could hear her hard breaths in the quiet of the room, and for a second I wondered if she was having some sort of panic attack. Her face drained of all color, and she swayed a little.

“I wasn’t worried,” she whispered, her eyes wide and scared. “I didn’t even think—”

“Look, I know that you didn’t do it maliciously—”

“I didn’t do it?”

“—and I shouldn’t have said that shit to you. You’ve been a huge help with the kids, and I know you probably didn’t plan all that.”

“I didn’t plan it,” she whispered softly to herself.

“So I’m just saying that I’d like to forget about it, ya know? Go back to the way it was before. No drama.” I nodded, finally glad that I’d gotten out what I’d wanted to say.

“You’re saying I’m forgiven?” she asked, staring over my shoulder again.

I paused, something in her voice making me question our entire conversation. I’d gone over all of the points, hadn’t I? I still wanted her to keep the kids, I’d known she wasn’t trying to be a bitch, and I wanted to move past it…Yeah, I’d hit every single one.

“Yeah, Katie, you’re forgiven,” I answered, feeling relieved that I’d gotten the conversation over with. Everything could go back to normal. She’d stay, and I wouldn’t have to worry that my kids would deal with another devastating loss so soon after their mother.

She nodded before turning and walking toward the stairs.

“I’m going to go up and crash on Sage’s floor for an hour before she has to get up,” she said, her back to me. “And Shane?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t call me Katie.”





Chapter 3

Kate



Motherf*cking-super-spermed-son-of-a-goat-from-Ohio!” I chanted angrily, shaking the little stick in my hand, like that would change the answer it was giving me. I wasn’t even sure what I was saying, but the words rolled off my tongue easily and it felt good to swear.

I was f*cking pregnant, and I didn’t know who I was more pissed at—Shane for having an adequate sperm count or the doctor who must have given me a faulty f*cking birth control shot.

Why? Why did I have to find myself in the most awkward position imaginable at every possible opportunity? I was always running into something, or saying something I shouldn’t, or opening the door in my period underwear and a ratty tank top for the delivery service I used when I sent paperwork to my clients. And this time I was so royally f*cked I couldn’t even focus on the larger implications of that positive pregnancy test.

Oh no. The only thing I could think about was the fact that I’d have to tell Shane something along the lines of, You know when I took advantage of your delicate state? Well, I also stole your sperm. I’m pregnant!

It had been two months since the incident that should never again be brought up, and shit was finally somewhat normal when I was at the Andersons’. Shane was back to ignoring me completely, which frankly was a relief, and I was back to not worrying that I was going to show up one day and the new nanny would bar me from the house.

Gunner was finally walking. Sage was starting a dance class next week. Keller just got stitches along his hairline after he face-planted into the railing of the porch. Gavin pooped in the toilet twice that week! Success!

What the f*ck was I going to do?

I threw the stick angrily into the trash and stormed into my bedroom-slash-living-room-slash-dining-room, then immediately spun back around and fished it back out again, setting it gently on the edge of the bathroom counter. So I peed on it, big deal. It was still proof, the first visible proof of my child.

My child. God, I was in so much trouble.

I quickly pulled on some clothes and grabbed my messenger bag off the floor, stuffing my laptop inside before racing out the door. I normally didn’t bring my Mac when I was hanging out with the kids—it was a good way to get something spilled on it—but I knew I’d need it that day. I needed to research. I needed to plan.

My stomach rolled as I climbed into my car, and I swallowed the extra saliva in my mouth. I was not going to get sick again. I’d already hacked up the chicken chow mein I’d ingested last night, and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’d had for lunch yesterday, and the Cheerios I’d had for breakfast. I didn’t have time to get rid of the water I’d had that morning—I was already running late because of that stupid test.

I pulled into Shane’s driveway two minutes late and hopped out of the car, taking a second to brace myself against the hood. Okay, no quick movements unless one of the kids was about to break their arm. Right. I just needed to take it easy.

I hadn’t even made it to the front door before Shane was outside and walking past me to his truck.

“You’re late,” he called over his shoulder, his boots hitting the driveway at a steady clip.

“I had an emergency.”

He came to an abrupt halt at my words and turned to take me in, his eyes sliding over my body. “You okay?”