Songbird (11 page)

He shakes his head. “No, that’s not why I brought them. I really just wanted to bring my nephew some toys and clothes. No strings attached.”

I bow my head, ashamed to have jumped to conclusions so easily.

“I’m sorry, Owen. I’m just . . . I really don’t want to talk about your brother. Or
to
him, for that matter. He made it very clear he wants nothing to do with this baby. I don’t want or need his money. I don’t want or need his help.”

“I know you don’t, but—”

“No buts. I told him the truth. The baby’s his. I tried to do the right thing, which is more than I can say for him, so tell your brother he can save his apologies because I don’t need them . . . or him.”

Owen sighs sadly. “I wish you’d hear him out. He really likes you, Callie. And I know that sounds juvenile or whatever, but he really does. I’ve never seen him look at another woman the way he looks at you, and trust me, I’ve seen Devin with plenty of women through the years.”

“I’m sure you have,” I mutter, rubbing my stomach. “I think I need another banana pop.”

“I’m on it.”

Owen leaps off the couch and makes his way to the fridge. When he returns, he actually takes the time to unwrap it for me. I thank him and lean back against the couch, nibbling slowly.

“Callie, the last thing I want to do is upset you, but I’m begging you. Please let him try to fix this. I really want to know my nephew, and my parents will be ecstatic when they find out they have a grandkid coming. We’re good people, honestly. Devin’s good, too, beneath that mask of immaturity and arrogance.”

“Just because Devin’s chosen not to be part of the baby’s life doesn’t mean I’m going to the shut out the rest of you. I’m not selfish.”

“I don’t really think Devin made that choice. He just freaked out. A baby just wasn’t part of his plan, you know?”

“You think it was part of mine? I don’t know what I’m doing! I’m throwing up all the time. I cry for the stupidest reasons. And I’m scared out of my mind. Unlike Devin, I don’t have a choice.” I point to my stomach. “There’s a baby in there. I can’t just throw a temper tantrum and ignore it.”

“I don’t think he’s going to ignore it for much longer.” Owen reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. “I gotta go. Here are all my numbers. I want you to call me, day or night, if you ever need anything. More banana pops. More blue toys. A shoulder to cry on. Whatever. Okay?”

“Thanks, Owen. And thanks again for all the gifts.” I lean over and kiss him on the cheek before taking another look at all the presents. “I really, really hope for your sake it’s a boy.”

We both laugh as I walk him to the door.

“Will you do me a favor?” he asks.

“Maybe.”

“Will you at least think about what I said about my brother?”

I sigh. “I just need some time. I want to concentrate on my baby and avoid drama. I won’t beg him to be part of his child’s life, and we’ll be just fine without him.”

After he leaves, I take all the toys and clothes and place them in the guest room. Or rather, the
nursery
. I’ve never decorated in here because I’ve never had guests. Right now, the walls are stark white with a full-sized bed in the corner. Obviously, that’ll have to go. I’ve yet to reach the furniture part of my baby research, but I’m assuming he or she’ll need a crib, changing table, a dresser . . . maybe a rocking chair. And, of course, a wall for books, because my kid is going to be a reader.

Suddenly starving, I grab my bag and baby book and head to the coffee house just down the block. It’s my favorite place to eat in Nashville because it’s close to my apartment and has the best veggie burgers in town. After placing my order, I find a corner booth and open my book. I’m deeply involved with the chapter “How to Break the Happy News to the Family” when I feel someone’s eyes on me. I look up to find myself staring into the beautiful face of Valerie McAllister.

She smiles brightly. “Callie! I thought that was you. How are you?”

Swallowing nervously, I quickly close my book. “Mrs. McAllister, it’s nice to see you again.”

“You, too. And please, call me Valerie,” she says, waving toward the empty seat across from me. “May I?”

I nod.
First the uncle and now the grandma?
All I need is Devin to show up and we can have our first official family reunion.

“William loves this place, so I thought I’d grab him some lunch.”

“I love it, too. I’m just waiting for my veggie burger.”

“You look a little pale, sweetheart,” she murmurs softly, patting my hand. “Are you feeling okay?”

I smile gratefully. Valerie’s so sweet and motherly, which is something I desperately need right now.

“Umm . . . no, actually. I’ve been pretty nauseous lately.”

“A stomach bug?”

Obviously, the McAllister men have kept their mouth shut.
Figures.

The waitress interrupts our awkward conversation. She places my burger in front of me and tells Valerie her order will be up in just a few minutes. We both thank her, and I immediately take a bite.

Valerie grins at my enthusiasm. “Nausea gone?”

I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “It’s so weird. I’m starving one minute. Vomiting the next. There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”

“Hmm.”

She grows quiet, and that’s when I see her gazing at my book.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

“Well, that certainly explains the nausea and cravings. Congratulations, Callie.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

Her face softens. “I take it by the sound of your voice this isn’t great news.”

“It’s . . . complicated. I’m trying to be happy. I really am.”

She nods. “How far along are you?”

“About six weeks.”

“And how are you? Do you have a good doctor?”

“I do, and I’m okay, honestly. I’m going to figure it out. My baby and I will be fine.”

The waitress brings a take-out carton. Valerie thanks her without taking her eyes off me.

“Callie, I know this is none of my business, but the father . . . is he being supportive?”

It’s actually very much your business.
I take a deep breath and gaze into her eyes . . . the same deep brown eyes of her son. I can’t lie to her, but maybe I can be vague.

“Not exactly, but we’ll be okay.”

“What do you mean,
not exactly
?”

Something about the tone of her voice makes my stomach lurch.

“He . . . just made it very clear he’s not interested in being part of this baby’s life.”

Anger flashes in her eyes.

Mine fill with tears.

Does she know? Could she possibly?

“Callie?”

“Valerie, I can’t. You need to talk to your son.”

“My s—”

“Enjoy your lunch.”

“Callie, wait!”

But I don’t wait. I grab my book and bag and run toward the restroom. Slamming the stall door behind me, I drop everything and hover over the toilet. This isn’t morning sickness. This is anxiety, because I’m pretty sure I just outted Daddy Devin to his mother.

After washing out my mouth, I make my way back into the restaurant. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that Valerie’s gone. I sit back down in the booth and push my cold burger to the side before burying my head in my hands.

What should I do?

Deciding I better warn at least one brother, I dig in my bag until I find Owen’s card. I add him to my contacts and send him a text. It’s just two words, but I know he’ll understand my cryptic message.

Grandma knows.

I
wonder how many thirty-year-old men need to give themselves a pep talk just to walk out their door.

For the past two hours, I’ve been unable to convince my feet to do just that.

My brother really put into perspective what an asshole I’ve been. Typically, that doesn’t bother me, but when it comes to Callie Franklin, it bothers me a lot. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to confess to me that she’s pregnant, and what did I do? Treat her like crap.

I deserved to be slapped.

I deserve worse.

After Owen left, I really did some soul-searching. I can try to ignore it all I want, but the fact is I’m going to be a father. The mere thought scares the hell out of me.

You should probably tell her that.

Will she even let me?

Determined to try, I’ve actually placed both feet on the floor and stood up when my cell vibrates in my hand. I take one look at the message from Owen before falling back onto the couch.

Grandma knows. You’re a dead man.

Before I can reply, I hear a fist pound on my door, immediately followed by the furious voice of my mother.

“Devin Wayne McAllister, open this door right this minute!”

Shit.

Sighing tiredly, I walk over to the door. I’ve barely opened it before I’m knocked down by the force of my tiny mother barging into the room. She looks livid, and suddenly, I’m a kid cringing under the weight of his mother’s pissed-off glare.

“Why are you on the floor?”

“Because you knocked me on my ass.”

“You deserve it,” she says, huffing with annoyance before stepping over me on her way to the couch.

I climb to my feet. “Actually, I was just on my way ou—”

“I don’t care. Would you mind explaining to me why I just saw a visibly upset and very nauseated Callie Franklin at the coffee shop?”

“You saw her?”

“Yes, I saw her—looking positively pale and reading a baby book. It was easy to connect the dots. When I asked if she had plenty of support, she told me a particularly horrifying story about a man who told her he doesn’t want to be part of her child’s life. Then, she told me she couldn’t talk to me anymore and that I needed to speak to my son.”

I swallow nervously but keep my mouth shut.

“I’m assuming by the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off her at the benefit that Owen isn’t the one I should be talking to.”

Embarrassed and ashamed, I bow my head and stare at my feet.

“Callie’s pregnant.”

“I know
that
!”