Project Runaway Bride(31)

And for the first time since the plus sign had appeared on that tiny test strip, she realized it was true. She would be just fine.

Oh, there would be some explaining to do, some “cleanup in aisle three” with her family and with Paul. But she was a strong, independent woman. She had a good job and great loved ones to fall back on. Without a doubt, she knew that once they got over the shock, they would support her unconditionally and be there for her if she needed anything along the way.

So she would be a single mother—so what? She would be a good one. She would be a great mother and have a permanent reminder of her time with Reid for the rest of her life. That would make her sad once in a while, she was sure, but for the most part it would fill her with only happy memories. Eventually.

Feeling more confident than she had in quite a while, Juliet waited for Reid’s tense posture to relax. For him to blow out a relieved breath and say, “Okay, great, thanks.” Because what man wanted to have an unplanned pregnancy and impending fatherhood dropped in his lap?

Of course, if he wanted to be part of his child’s life, she would allow it. It would make things more complicated for her in a lot of ways, but it was only right.

Instead of the whew she’d anticipated, however, his glare grew even darker, the slash of his mouth flattening even more, and she could have sworn she heard his molars grinding together.

“Are you sure?”

She blinked, confused. This wasn’t the direction she’d expected the conversation to take. “Excuse me?”

“Are you sure?” He bit the words out, each one exploding like gunfire in her ears. The corner of his left eye started to twitch. “Are you sure you’re pregnant? And that it’s mine?”

At the second part of his question, she flinched. And then straightened defensively.

“Yes. On both counts.”

That muscle along his jawline jerked again.

“So you’ve seen a doctor,” he said, making it more of a statement than a query.

“No.” She wrapped her arms across her waist, caught slightly off guard. “But I took one of those over-the-counter tests, and it was positive.”

Not to mention the morning sickness, missed periods and myriad other symptoms that told her the little plastic wand she’d left in the church wastebasket wasn’t wrong.

Reid’s teeth were clenched, his eyes narrowed to slits. Juliet’s heart lurched as it became clear that in another second, steam was going to start pouring out of his ears.

Uh-oh.

She took a step back, wondering if it was too late to retreat. Or flat-out run. She hoped the lock on her bedroom door was a strong one.

Not that she’d get the chance to find out. Before she could put even more distance between them, he reached out and snatched her wrist. His grip was firm, immovable, yet he wasn’t hurting her, and she knew somehow that he wouldn’t. That if she said anything, asked him to let go, he would do it.

He might not let her go let her go—as in let her walk away from the conversation he so clearly intended for them to have—but he wouldn’t restrain her physically against her will.

Because of that, because she was nervous and uncomfortable, but not truly afraid of him, she didn’t try to pull away. He was going to have questions, she understood that, and he deserved answers. Even if it meant meeting his show of temper head-on.

Rather than pulling her back out onto the porch, though, he turned her around and nudged her farther into the house.

“Pack your bags,” he told her. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Wait. Why?” Tugging out of his hold, she twisted to face him.

“We’re going back to New York. You’re going to get checked out by a doctor, and then...”

He let the sentence trail off, she suspected because he didn’t know what would come next and probably didn’t want to make threats—or promises—he wasn’t sure he’d be willing to carry out.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I told you, I’m not ready to go back there. Paul, my family... They’ll ask questions, want answers I’m not prepared to give just yet. I came here to think, to be alone until I can get a better handle on things, and I still need to do that. I need some time to myself.”

“Too bad,” he replied, zero sympathy in his voice. “You don’t get that luxury, not anymore. And neither do I.”

A beat later, his tone softened. “Look, I just want to be sure. You were awfully sick this morning, too, so I’d like to know everything’s okay. We’ll stay at my place. No one else needs to know you’re in the city until you’re ready to see them. But we can’t just stay here, doing nothing, pretending the problem doesn’t exist as long as we don’t go back to the real world.”