Making His Baby(6)

“Excellent. That’s all I need to hear.” She takes a mighty sip of her mimosa, nearly finishing it before I have had so much as a mouthful of my own. “Oh, I forgot to ask you. How was the reunion  ? Was everything okay?”

She grimaces as she asks the question, and I know why.

“Yeah, it was fine,” I admit. “They showed her face on the screen at one point, but I just looked away.”

“You poor thing. How are you holding up? It’s been, what? Three months now?”

“Four as of last Thursday,” I quietly correct her, looking down at my drink as I do. I don’t like to talk about it at the best of times, even with Amy.

The reason for Amy’s reserve is because of my sister, who passed away four months previously. It was a car crash. A drunken driver plowed into the side of her car. And as bad as that was, I was reminded of it at the reunion  . They flashed her picture on the big screen at one point, in honor of her passing. It felt like a knife driving through my belly.

“It was hard seeing it. But maybe it’s for the best? Closure for me, you know?”

“Yeah, closure.” Amy reaches forward and rubs the back of my hand. “Trust me. You know Lyndsey, and you know she wouldn’t have wanted you wasting your time mourning over her. She would have wanted you to move on, finish your book and maybe start a family.”

“Yeah, okay,” I scoff. “Let’s take bets on which one comes first. None of them have good odds.”

I’m really not that interest in having a family, and it has a lot to do with my upbringing. I’m an orphan. My mother died when I was very young and my father died when I was eight. For me, there’s really no coming back from that. Lyndsey is my adopted sister, and although she and my adoptive parents did all they could to make me feel like part of the family, I never really felt like I belonged. Not in the truest sense anyway.

Those feelings still haunt me to this day and are a large reason why having a family was very low on my list of things to do.

“Whatever,” Amy says with derision as she waves me down. “You’re gorgeous, and you know it. All you need is a man. Once you have one you like, and trust me on this, he won’t be able to put you down. Who knows, maybe this Blake will be the one. Wedding bells anyone?”

“Stop!” I exclaim, trying not to laugh at my ridiculous friend. “He hasn’t even called me back. If he does. And if I like him. And if he likes me. I think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself.”

“Okay, but you heard it here first,” Amy finishes with a knowing smile, as if she can see something I can’t.

I glare at my best friend as I finish my drink. The moment my glass is empty, I hold it out for her to refill, which she does willingly. The day is young, the drinks are flowing, and I know that the two of us still have a long day of gossiping to get through. I am, truth be told, rather looking forward to it.





Chapter 5


BLAKE





I couldn’t get Carrie out of my head all weekend. Longer than that even. It’s Tuesday morning now and still she haunts my mind.

It has nothing to do with her beauty, even though she has that. And it has nothing to do with the scintillating conversation the two of us had, even though we had that, too.

It was the effortless way in which she turned me down. That kind of thing never happens to me. Women don’t turn me down, ever. Usually, once I have a woman alone, it’s only too easy to get them to come back to my place. But not Carrie. And that was what had me so intrigued three days after meeting her.

Sitting at my desk, I can’t stop staring at my phone.

As a film producer, I often work from home. I’m my own boss, and that allows for me to dictate the rules. It’s a convenient arrangement and is usually a good thing. But today, it has its drawbacks.

I stare at the phone, and I can’t think of a reason not to call. Sure, I can do some more work. But there’s nothing urgent on my schedule until a meeting this afternoon. And sure, I can go for a run, or to the gym, but again, none of it is that pressing.

Finally, after visualizing her perfect ass, I make a snap decision to call Carrie. I pick up the phone, dial the number, take a deep breath and wait for her to answer.

“Hello,” she says on the other end of the line. Her voice is like honey. Music to my ears. I have forgotten how sweet she sounds.

“Carrie, it’s Blake,” I say casually. I want to sound like I called her as an afterthought.

“Oh, hi,” she responds in an upbeat manner. “How are you?”

“Good. Better now that I’ve spoken to you. Wait, is that too cheesy?” Women usually eat that stuff up.