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Lara swallows. “I’ll be officially yours in two weeks.”
I frown. “You’re already mine, princess. And you’ll be my wife when we say I do. Everything else is just a formality.” I wave it off.
“Lara?” a male voice sounds behind me.
Recognizing the voice, I don’t turn. My eye twitches at the use of her first name.
My girl blinks rapidly, glances at me, and then back at the doctor. “Dr. Moore, hi.”
“You missed your appointment this morning,” he tells her, his voice irritated.
Lara nods. “I know, I’m sorry. Something came up, and I couldn’t make it.”
“I heard. It’s a small town, so good news travels fast. Congratulations, both of you.” He grins, offering me a nod.
He may still be fairly new to the area according to small-town rules, having only resided here nearly two years, but everyone knows I prefer to avoid touching when possible. I give him a grateful nod back.
“May I?” he asks, glancing at Lara.
With my wave of approval, the doctor steps around the table to drop a kiss on Lara’s cheek.
“I’m sorry about the appointment. We shouldn’t have wasted your time,” I say, hoping he will shine a light on what Lara’s been hiding all morning.
“Oh, really, it’s fine. After I heard about the wedding, I figured the two of you decided against taking those precautions.” The doctor pauses, giving the server his full attention. Without him having to order, Shelby, a local girl and an old classmate of my sister’s, places a black coffee down on the table. “After all, those kinds of decisions should not be made alone. It takes two to make a baby, so it should be two who decide not to, no matter the preventive measure chosen.”
Shelby flushes.
A baby?My heart drops. There’s no way she could have booked in for an abortion. It’s far too soon . . . Plan B. My girl was looking to get Plan B or contraception.
Hurt flares inside me.
“Anything else?” Shelby asks, wringing her hands.
I don’t answer, too busy having a silent war with my fiancée.
“No, thank you, sweetheart,” Doc responds for us.
Lara looks away to smile at the server, who moves to a table close by, scrubbing at the clean tabletop.
I won. That round, at least . . . So why do I feel like I lost?
“Michael Cromwell?” a female voice asks.
Spinning in my seat, I see Sheriff McCallister approaching with a tall woman who I don’t know, an out-of-towner. Cooper stomps closer with them, his glee palpable.
“Are you Michael Cromwell?” she demands again, all business.
McCallister looks like he’d rather be somewhere else, anywhere else.
This isn’t good.
Gripping the armrests of my chair, I push away from the table, addressing Lara, “You go straight to my parents’ house.”
Standing, I feel my blood pressure rising with every second she doesn’t answer.
“Lara!” I snap, not able to keep cool.
Her eyes widen.
