Page 56 of Where the Wattles Bloom

Pulling out her phone, she texted Lachlan’s number. It took several drafts because her head was woolly and her fingers were uncooperative and it was hard to make any sense when pregnant, pregnant, pregnant was battering at her brain with a massive freaking ram.

Finally she settled on—When you’re done for the day could you please drop by?

It was short, sweet, not demanding and non-alarmist. It was maybe a little formal, but she honestly didn’t know the proper etiquette for tone in this situation.

His response was swift. Sure. Probably be around six?

Rowena glanced at the clock on her phone. Just after one. Gah! She wasn’t sure she could wait that long. Her mind was already spinning around and around, thoughts endlessly chasing each other, jockeying for supremacy. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

She tapped out a reply. Cool. See you then.

And with a calm she didn’t feel, she crossed to her bed, climbed in and pulled the covers over her head.

*

Rowena’s pulse spiked at the rap on the door a few minutes after six. She appreciated his promptness, but five hours with three positive pregnancy tests staring at her had ensured she was wound about as tight as she’d ever been and, given her recent history, that was saying something.

She had to physically stop herself from running to the door and reefing it open. Instead she crossed to the kitchen and tried to perfect a casual pose as she called, ‘Come in.’

Lachlan strode in, Red at his heels, looking strong and capable in dusty jeans and a flannel shirt open at the neck, a streak of grease near the collar. There was also some kind of grimy smudge on his forehead that drew her attention as he absently ruffled his hat hair.

He looked so damn good—because of course he did—Rowena wanted to cry. Again!

Smiling at her from across the room, he headed in her direction, Red peeling off to claim his favourite spot at the end of her bed. Lachlan’s gait was sure and confident, but his step faltered as he neared.

‘Oh my god, are you okay?’

His alarm told Rowena all she needed to know about her appearance. If she hadn’t felt so shitty she’d probably have laughed at the unabridged alarm in his voice.

‘I’m fine,’ she dismissed as he came to a halt on the opposite side of the kitchen bench.

‘You’re as pale as a ghost. Reggie mentioned you weren’t feeling well. Something about the bug going around?’

‘I’m fine,’ she repeated.

‘Are you sure? Maybe you should come and stay with us while you’re feeling unwell so we can keep an eye on you.’

Oh, for crying out loud, they didn’t have time for this.

‘Absolutely sure.’

Which was an absolute lie—she was far from fine—but she nodded vigorously in an effort to convince him. Then immediately wished she hadn’t as a wave of nausea rolled through her belly. Swallowing hard against it, she forged on.

‘Listen, I need you to do something for me.’

Still clearly concerned, he nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘But you can’t make any jokes or ask me any questions. I just need you to do it first and then I’ll explain.’

A furrow formed between his brows. ‘Oh … kay?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she assured. ‘I don’t need a body buried or anything.’ She gave a half laugh that echoed hollowly around the space. ‘It’s a very small thing. It’s … silly and ridiculous and, well … bizarre, really. I’m sure we’ll both laugh about it. Afterwards.’

‘Okay.’ He nodded, obviously satisfied with her elaboration. ‘What?’

Her pulse like a water hammer against the inside of her skull, Rowena reached into her back pocket and pulled out the remaining test. ‘I need you to go pee on this? Please tell me you need to pee.’

She didn’t think she could stand it if he’d just emptied his bladder and they needed to wait while the litre of water she’d put in the fridge earlier—just in case—worked its way through his system.