Page 34 of Accidentally Hitched (Unintentionally Yours #1)

Callum

“ I n the market for a ring, sir?”

The girl behind the counter at Cartier smiles at me and it suddenly hits me…

I’m in the market for a ring. And that can only mean one thing…

I’m in love?

Nope. It’s not a question. As Amanda’s face floods back into my mind I know I’m not crazy. I am without a doubt ready to buy this ring.

“So, tell me a little about this girl,” the woman prods me on as I look in the case of diamonds. So. Many. Diamonds.

“She’s incredible,” I answer.

“They usually are.”

“One of a kind,” I add.

“And she needs a one-of-a-kind ring. Is she flashy? The bigger the better? Does she want the ring to shout from the rooftops I’M MARRIED so she doesn’t even have to say it?” she asks, handing me a diamond wrapped ring that weighs about as much as my Rolex.

I rub my chin, handing the ring back to her. “No, that’s not really her.”

“So, something more delicate?” She hands me another, this one much smaller, almost no diamond at all but a beautifully carved band.

“I don’t think that’s right either,” I shake my head handing it back and realize I haven’t put any thought into this.

I feel like an idiot, but the girl is patient.

“Maybe if you tell me a little about this woman, I can help you find the right ring,” she smiles.

Tell her about Amanda. It would be easier to describe a sunset to someone who’d never looked at the sky before.

“She’s bright. Not just smart, though she is definitely smart. But in a sunny sort of way. She’s beautiful and doesn’t know it. Colorful and tries to hide it. Cute. Caring. Very selfless. And passionate. Musical and poetic and–”

“I have just the thing.”

The woman walks to another case, and it isn’t until I am standing there alone that I realize my heart is like a jackhammer. It’s not that I’ve never thought of her that way. All I do is think about Amanda. But I’d be lying if I said I’ve ever spoken the words out loud. Even to Noah.

While she’s gone, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out and part of me is disappointed that it’s not her. The rest of me is super disappointed that it’s Avery.

Avery: You keeping up with the times, brother?

I’m already annoyed. I should ignore it. But Avery is a squeaky wheel when he’s ignored and if I don’t text him back, he’ll call.

Callum: I do my best not to.

Avery: Social media is a shitshow right now.

Jesus fucking Christ. We may be twins but Avery and I are very, very different people.

Callum: As usual. Again, I keep my nose to the ground.

Avery: Well, you might want to look up for five seconds because the star of that shitshow right now is you, brother.

Callum: Again, I don’t care. What people are saying about me is none of my business or concern.

Avery: What about what people say about Amanda…

That hits a nerve hard and I’m sure he knows it. My jaw tightens and I hover my thumb over the screen debating just how hard to yank his chain. But before I can respond, the woman appears again.

“I apologize for leaving you stranded. This one we keep tucked away. It’s rare. Very rare. Honestly we have been saving it for the right customer. But I think that just might be you.”

“Listen, I think I’m going to have to come back another day. Something came up and–”

My words freeze in my mouth when she pops the box open and slides it towards me.

“What is that?” I ask.

“That is 14 karat gold, with a halo of ethically sourced diamonds surrounding an emerald cut sapphire.”

“Jesus it’s perfect.”

She smiles. “I had a feeling it would be.”

I shove my phone back in the pocket of my slacks for the time being and follow the girl to the register.

Sapphires aren’t cheap. But considering I am trying to make up for a Vegas wedding that supplied us with gumball machine esque rings, I have a serious statement to make. And that statement is this:

I want Amanda. All day. Every day. Forever and ever.

I wait until I am back in the car to pull my phone out again.

I avoid the text stream with Avery a little while longer and take a screen shot of the ring, sending it to Noah.

It’s then that I realize, in the hum of my car, I am smiling.

It’s a smirk. A slightly cocky smirk. But a cocky smirk is still a smile.

I know it’s not traditional. It’s not Hardin in most ways. Hardin men buy the flashiest, bulkiest rings they can find. Hardin women, married in, can be seen from a mile away by the meteor on their hand alone.

But that’s not Amanda. Amanda isn’t the sun. She’s the moon in all its deep, dark glory. And this ring is perfect.

My phone buzzes again and I wait to see Noah’s reaction but it’s not Noah. It’s a call. And I stupidly answer it before realizing it's Avery. Fuck.

“About time you stopped ignoring me.”

“It was an accident. What do you want?”

“To congratulate you,” Avery says and even through the phone I can hear the half-cocked grin on his face.

I’m confused. For a second, I wonder if I accidently sent the photo of the ring to him. But I didn’t.

So, I ask the question that I know is only going to dig the hole deeper. “On what?”

“Amanda’s pregnancy of course.”

My stomach bottoms out. I almost ask him what in the actual fuck he is talking about but instead, I switch to speaker phone while he rambles on and check the media.

“I gotta hand it to you. I knew you wanted to take over Hardin before me, but I didn’t think you’d actually knock up that little philly of yours to do it.

You sure you can handle being a dad? We aren’t exactly young anymore brother.

And I don’t know about you, but I like sleep-filled nights and lazy mornings.

I mean except for when the nights aren’t sleep filled if you know what I’m saying. You can kiss goodbye to that.”

Avery keeps talking but I’m busy scrolling. There are photos everywhere of “Amanda Hardin” walking into a drug store, buying a pregnancy test and walking out. It’s stupid. That’s not even her name legally. But whatever. I don’t believe it.

“I gotta go,” I say, cutting him off mid-rant. “Think what you want and find something else to preoccupy your mind.”

I hang up on my brother before he can say anything else. Then I shove the ring in my glovebox and head home.

Maybe it wasn’t her. I mean, yes, it looks a lot like Amanda in the photos but also, people have ways of faking pictures.

AI is unbeatable these days. And the girl was wearing a black hoodie and shades, something I have never seen her wear.

At the same time, I know her body. I don’t have to see her face to know it’s her.

So, I rationalize another way. Maybe the test was negative. And that’s why she hasn’t said anything. I like that answer most. It means she wasn’t hiding anything because there was nothing to hide. And there’s also nothing to worry about.

When I get home, I am surprised to find that Amanda isn’t home, which is odd. She was supposed to be home sick today. Suddenly that detail slaps me in the face too. She’s been sick a lot recently. Suddenly and violently before being completely fine. Hungry even.

The idea that maybe Amanda is pregnant settles into the room like a thick, stuffy heatwave. Is it possible? I mean we haven’t exactly been careful, but I assumed she was on some kind of birth control. That and I’m…forty-eight. I kind of just assumed the likelihood wasn’t that high.

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I go into the bathroom.

In the small waste bin, there are multiple seemingly clean wads of crumpled up tissue paper.

I pause for a moment, asking myself just how crazy I am, before bending down and pulling the tissues out of the bin only to reveal… two pregnancy tests.

Holy shit.

The whirlwind of mixed feelings about the whole thing are spinning around in my brain like a tornado just before it hits the ground.

Man up, Hardin. You’re about to put a ring on her damn finger. A real one. Whatever the tests say doesn’t matter.

I pull them out and my eyes lock on the little circles.

I blink.

My phone rings and with my eyes still on the sticks, I answer it.

“Listen, Ave. If you are calling again just to rub it in my fucking face that you knew before me–”

“Yo,” Noah’s voice cuts in. “Listen, man. I’m sure you saw the pictures. I’d be pissed too if I was publicly married and my girl was on a dating app. I mean the least Amanda could do if y’all are on the rocks is cover her tracks.”

I stop. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Amanda’s profile being on that dating app. I don’t know if it’s old and she just hasn’t deleted it but–”

I walk out of the bathroom, sticks still in hand because I am too shocked and confused and overwhelmed to work my hand muscles right now.

“Is it an active profile?” I ask.

Noah grunts out a sigh. “I think so. Listen, I am sure you are freaking out and already know this but she’s gotta get that shit on lock. We have a lot of artists on the line right now and Davies isn’t going to work with us if–”

“I’m fucking aware how reputations work in the music industry, Noah. I’ll handle it.”

I hang up on him and toss the tests on the counter before bracing my hands on it and hanging my head to think. But no matter how many ways I try to clear my mind of the chaos, the questions just keep pouring in.

Is the profile current?

Has she been seeing anyone else?

Is the baby mine?

The last one hits me like a bullet to the chest. The only thing harder to digest than her being pregnant is her being pregnant by another man.

I clench my jaw and take in a hot, angry, jagged breath.

Then the front door opens.

Amanda walks in and I look up at her. Her eyes meet mine and then look down at the tests splayed out on the counter. She freezes. Then I realize she’s holding something in her hand.

A sonogram picture.

Shit just got very, very real.