Knocked Up(28)

Tawny shook her head, face on fire. What the hell was wrong with her? Maybe it was just her hormones. They were clearly wreaking havoc on her system. Totally normal.

But whatever had happened in that dream, it didn't mean anything. It was simply a reminder of how haywire her emotions could be. A warning, even. And though it might be fun to think about, there was no use in getting herself wrapped up in memories that didn't exist or creating complications in an already super complicated situation. That kind of stress, she reminded herself, was bad for her and for the baby.

No, what she needed right now was to put the whole world out of her head, make herself a giant bowl of ice cream, and settle into a good long marathon of Gilmore Girls reruns until she could fall asleep and get her head on straight in the morning.

Who knew? Maybe by the daylight, another school principal or two would have gotten back to her with requests for interviews.

Determined to relax, she selected her favorite of the now impressive selection of ice cream cartons in her freezer, decided to forgo the bowl altogether, grabbed a spoon and cued up Netflix on her TV. The opening strains of the bright, happy theme song began to play and she hummed along to it before stuffing a spoonful of Rocky Road in her face.

She was only five minutes in when she heard the equally bright chime of her cell phone from the far corner of the room. Reluctantly, she made her way toward her bag and fished the phone from her bag just as it finished trilling.

"Of course," she sighed, then glanced at the bright, green words blazing back from her screen.

One Missed Call: Suzette

Frowning, Tawny redialed.

The ringing hadn't even begun to sound when, with a whirr of muffled voices and music, the line clicked to life.

"Tawny?" Suzette practically screamed and, wincing, Tawny held the phone a little away from her ear.

"Yeah, it's me. What's going on?"

"I'm at the Hog-Tie."

"Okay," Tawny said. "Um, are you having fun?"

"Guess who else is here?"

Based on Suzette's flat, unenthusiastic drawl, Tawny had a pretty good idea. "Look, if Rex is there with some girl, I've told you, you just have to--"

"No, not Rex. Luke. And he found me. He's been talking to me about the baby for a solid twenty minutes and I think he's probably put away nearly three beers in all that time."

"Jesus," Tawny muttered, and apparently Suzette heard her because she shot back.

"I don't think even Jesus can help you now, sweets. He is drunk as a skunk and I'm thinking you better get down here before he starts talking more and louder about all this."

"What do I care if Luke gets drunk? He's an adult who can make his own--"

"Mmmhmm, so you're fine if he screams about the little bun in your oven for the whole town to hear? And you want them all knowing who the father is already?"

"Shit," Tawny said. Until they figured out what they were doing, the last thing they needed was added pressure from anyone else knowing.

"Exactly. Now come on down here and I'll try to keep him busy until you do."

"Okay, thanks." She clicked off the phone, grabbed her keys, and headed for the door, but just as she was about to turn the handle, she realized that she was still in her form-fitting T-shirt and maternity pants.

"Double shit." She turned on her heel, bolted into her bedroom, then flew open the door of her closet, grabbing an old crumpled Jersey from the floor. It was her exes only football jersey--left over from the days when he'd not-so-thoughtfully brought his laundry over and pretended it was a date--and she threw it on to cover the little swell of her tummy.

Now certain that her bases were covered, she made for her car and started the engine, working her way through fear until she was downright furious. What right did this guy have? What right did he have to come into her life, change it forever, and then spill her secrets all over town?

She hadn't even had the nerve to call her parents yet, for Christ’s sake. Like she needed Mildred from the yarn works up town knowing her business before her very own mother and father?

And Luke had only known about their son for less than 24 hours. What could he possibly have to say about him?

In the back of her mind, she pictured Luke slurring baby names or insisting that their son be named after him. God, what if he was one of those guys? What if he thought she didn't even have a say in what she'd call her own son? What if he wanted to name him Han Solo or something stupid like that. Or, worse, Evel Knievel?

She skidded into the parking lot of the Hog-Tie and, ignoring the loud thumping of the music and the clusters of stumbling college students outside, she burst through the door and scanned the room, looking for Suzette’s too-bright red lips or Luke’s tall, hulking frame.