Page 4 of Honest Boys Don’t Play

“Good.” Clearing my throat, I add, “She would never hate you, Bertie. She’ll understand.”

“I hope so,” she sighs just as there’s a knock on the door. “Ugh, sorry.”

Bertie unlocks it and we find one of the coffee shop baristas on the other side looking red-faced and nervous as her eyes dart around the restroom. “Sorry, but I have to ask you guys to leave. No sex allowed in the bathroom.”

Bertie’s face turns tomato red to match the barista. “No, no. That’s not what was happening here, I swear. I got sick and he came in to check on me.”

The barista gives Bertie a once over.

“Do we look like we’ve been having sex in here?” She goes on when the barista says nothing. She looks down at her disheveled self. “You know what, don’t answer that. But for the record, no sex was happening.”

The barista looks at me, and I raise my hands innocently. “None whatsoever.”

“You guys still need to go,” she says.

“Right. Yeah. Fine.” Bertie pushes past her, no doubt gunning it for the table where we left our things.

“Sorry about that. I probably shouldn’t have followed her, but I didn’t want her to be sick by herself.”

“Whatever,” she says before walking off.

By the time I get back to the table, Bertie has already shouldered her backpack and clutches a stack of books to her chest. I take her purse off my shoulder and pass it to her.

“I have to get to class,” she says, not quite meeting my gaze. “Text me and I’ll meet you at your place to tell your mom.”

“I can pick you up.”

She shakes her head. “No, I want to have my car.”

For a quick escape? I almost ask.

She starts to leave but stops and pivots around. “This is for you.” She opens up the textbook on top and pulls out a piece of paper.

She nods, resolute, and is gone before I can say anything else.

Unfolding the paper, I find myself looking at a sonogram of the baby. Our baby.

It’s not that I didn’t believe her when she told me, but seeing this makes it all the more real.

I turn to call out to her, but I find her blond hair disappearing out the door.

Rubbing my thumb over the glossy paper, I give myself a moment to study it before I tuck it in my pocket and go on my way.

CHAPTER 2

BERTIE

If I thought telling Luke had my stomach feeling like scrambled eggs, then it has nothing on telling his mom. I’m certain her reaction will probably go over better than telling my parents, but that didn’t stop me from pulling over before I reached their driveway so I could throw up again.

The bright red front door swings open and my heart jolts as Luke steps outside barefoot. His wavy hair is weighed down with dampness from the shower. The black t-shirt he wears is so threadbare it’s nearly a gray, but it looks so soft and delectable that I almost want to snatch it off of him and cuddle with it.

God, my hormones have me all sorts of out of whack.

He narrows his eyes at me through the windshield, and I wonder what I’ve done to put that disgruntled look on his handsome face when I realize I’m using yet another one of my travel toothbrushes.

Luke ducks back inside the house for a moment and then pops out with shoes on, striding determinedly over to my car.

He opens my door. “You were sick again.”