Page 38 of Accidentally Hitched (Unintentionally Yours #1)

Amanda

I t’s official. I am not speaking to anyone ever again. Except, of course, for Iris. But that’s a given. Other than her, I have no interest in communicating with any human life.

I don’t go into work for a week. And I don’t even call Callum (or answer his calls) to let him know that.

With a little exaggerated complaining, I am able to get the doctor to sign a note that I need some sick time.

Between stress elevating my blood pressure and mentioning that I have had violent surges of morning sickness, it’s not hard to get the note.

And when I call HR at Hardin, it’s not hard to get it excused either.

Honestly, the morning sickness hasn’t been that bad.

It’s mostly subsided, other than an aversion to the smell of popcorn and the tropical breeze air freshener in my car which I promptly threw out the window while driving one day and getting a wave of wooziness.

But they don’t need to know that. No one needs to know that.

So, for the better part of the week, I sit in my house, working on songwriting for January and ignoring the fact that I’m being ignored by my bratty, younger sister all while ignoring Callum. I just need to breathe.

A knock comes to my door on Thursday evening just as I am wrapping up the bridge for a song I’ve been wrestling with for the last four hours. I set my guitar aside and shove to my feet just as the door opens.

“Room service,” Iris’ soft voice fills my apartment, and the air is suddenly warm.

“What did you bring?” I ask.

“Oh just a few little things. I was in a baking mood, so I have some orange scones.”

“You’re always in a baking mood,” I accuse her as she sets several cloth bags down on my counter along with a vase of flowers. Then I smell the scones, and I don’t care.

“I also brought sandwiches from the deli around the corner because I know you love their grape and pecan chicken salad. And if I had to guess, you haven’t eaten.”

“Iris,” I say, my voice starting to shake at the thoughtfulness that is my best friend.

“Also, there’s an oat milk lavender candle here for easing your mind,”

“Iris,”

“And some ginger lozenges to help with any morning sickness or heart burning you might be having. Oh, and some peppermint tea.”

“Iris…” I shake my head, looking at the flowers. They’re peonies. And I break down.

“Oh sweetie,” she pulls me into her, and I let myself cry for the hundredth time.

“Things will come around. Callum will realize he’s just being a stupid man about all of this.

And your sister…well, she’ll be your sister.

But that will all work itself out too. It always does. For better or for worse.”

I sniff and nod and sit down on one of the counter stools. I hope she’s right. I need her to be right.

“It’s just so wild how I thought for all of five minutes that my life was finally coming together. That Kate would be marrying her dream man and she’d finally be someone else’s problem. And I got my dream job and it’s wild. Every single day I can’t believe I’m there.”

“I can,” Iris sits down in front of me and hands me a cloth napkin that she also produces from one of her bags. “You are very talented, Amanda. You shouldn’t question that. And Callum Hardin doesn’t question you either. Which is exactly why you work there.”

“Yeah well he seems to question other things. Like whether or not he actually loves me. And whether or not he wants to be a dad.”

“Did he say that?” she asks.

“He was…not happy, if that’s what you mean.”

“But was it because you are pregnant? Or because he found out you are pregnant through paparazzi.”

I don’t answer that. Which probably answers that.

“It’s not like I was intentionally hiding it from him. But since that’s what he thinks, he’s also questioning whether or not the baby is his.”

“Who else would the baby belong to?” she asks.

“That’s exactly what I said. But he freaked out. Jumped to conclusions. Which tells me one of two things. Either he doesn’t trust me. Or he secretly hopes the baby isn’t his because he doesn’t want to be a dad.”

Iris thinks about that. “Does he not want kids?”

“I mean, he’s hinted at it. He’s almost fifty and doesn’t have any yet.”

“True. Still. It’s not unheard of for men his age to fall into fatherhood and embrace it.”

“Well, he wasn’t very embracing,” I sniff. “ Not to mention my sister is very much not speaking to me.”

“Yeah, I’d put that problem on the backburner for now,” Iris says, taking a bite of one of the scones she brought over. She hands me one and I take a bite too. It melts in my mouth, and I almost start crying again.

“She’s getting married in like two weeks and I am the maid of honor. We can’t be on non-speaking terms.”

“Then she will have to come around. Either that or find someone else to fix her tiara for her. If you ask me though, that princess has always had a crack in her crown. Let her figure it out. For now, you need to focus on you. You and the baby.”

“The baby,” I echo with a sigh. “I am still not used to that. Iris. I am going to be a mom.”

“You are,” she smiles, leaning forward to press her hand to my belly that hasn’t even started showing yet. Though there is a small, russet potato sized bump that is clearly not fat under there. It’s wild. “And you’re going to be a good mother, Amanda.”

“Even though his father isn’t speaking to me?” I ask shakily.

Her eyes dart up to mine. “He?”

“I don’t know. I just…have a feeling.”

She smiles again. “See? Mother’s intuition. And as far as his daddy goes, he’ll come around. You two were never casual or pre-arranged or anything of the sort.”

I sniff and wipe my nose with the hanky before picking up another scone. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I knew from the start that you had feelings for him. And then when I saw y’all together, even though his family’s noses were pointed far too north for my taste, I could tell he held a candle for you.

And I think he still does. He just needs to get his bearings about it, that’s all.

Even the manliest of men’s knees buckle at the idea of a baby. But he’ll warm up to it.”

“How are you so certain about everything?” I ask.

Iris sits back and ponders it, her eyes in the distance and a content look on her never worried face.

“Because that’s just usually how things work out.

For decent people anyways. Life is hard, it throws punches.

But good people who press forward and stand up for themselves and work hard and love harder…

things work out for them. Maybe not in the way they thought it would.

But even so. And if I had to guess, your life is still headed in a good direction, Amanda. I can feel it.”

I don’t feel it.

Even with her sitting across from me, her care package between us, I am having a very hard time feeling it. But I listen to her words because I need them to be true. I need more than anything for this to work out and for me– for us– to be okay. That and Iris has a way of always being right.

Monday rolls around and I know I have to head back into work.

Callum and I still haven’t spoken. He’s stopped blowing up my phone and I’ve stopped checking for texts.

I know that walking into work with the chance of bumping into each other after what I now refer to as “The eternal silence” is going to be way more awkward, but I’ve decided to take my chances.

I make my way past the front desk, offering cordial smiles where earned as I head down the hall to the glass elevator.

I look around but only as much as I need to, looking out for–well…

him. It’s not that I am avoiding Callum.

But I am also making no point to run into him either.

Not until I have conjured up a script of what I want to say. Or how I feel.

Luckily I am able to duck into the recording room slash my office without seeing any of the suit and ties.

I take a deep breath and shrug out of my bag and my guitar.

Then I set down my iced coffee, my water bottle that looks more like a jug (who knew pregnancy would make a person so THIRSTY?) and pull the sheet music I have been working on up on my tablet.

As much as things have been hard and I’ve been dreading walking back in the building again, it feels good to be back here. In this room.

I sit cross legged on the floor in my boots and tights and black skirt and band shirt, all things that make me look very alternative compared to the women who date men who work here.

Things that I once hid from everyone I knew.

Things that are me. And I pull my guitar from its case, hook it up and start strumming. God. Even THAT feels good.

I play the song I have been working on once, twice through before making a couple changes and smiling because despite the chaos, I am close to being where I need to be with it. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

Dread fills my chest and flushes into my stomach and everywhere else. I suppose I knew the conversation was coming, though I’ve been prolonging it. I still don’t know what I am going to say. What he’s going to say. And whether or not he can make up for what he’s already said.

“Hello,” the voice that comes through the door is similar but not his. Which can only mean one thing.

“Avery,” I stand up unable to identify whether I am relieved or confused or disappointed or a mixture of all of it. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a man pay a visit to the recording booth of his own family businesses?" Avery walks in, hands in his pockets, lanky chest puffed out, reptilian smile on his lips.

He may be Callum’s twin, but he is a far cry from his brother in every sense of the word.

“I suppose so,” I nod, brushing my hair from my face. For a moment, he looks around, eyeing each corner of the room as well as my set up. He takes his time though I know full well he has no actual interest in any of it.

“How do you like working here? Is it everything you hoped and dreamed? Everything you…calculated?”

With that, I square my shoulders and hold my ground. I don’t care if he is a Hardin. Right now, that name is nothing but a pain in my ass. An allusion. A paycheck.

“With no disrespect, Avery. What do you want?”

Avery’s smirk ticks up a notch and he waits a lazy moment before dragging his attention over to me. “I guess I just want to know if any of it was true?”

“If any of what is true?” I ask. “The media? I hate to admit it, but they’re pretty spot on.

I met him in Vegas. We got married. And we fucked around.

I found out he was my boss, and he told me…

” I wait, questioning whether or not it’s wise to go on.

Then, I decide I don’t care. “He told me it was in my best interest, in both our best interests to stay married. I could keep the job I always dreamed of and…so could he.”

Avery nods once and very slowly, his smirk still stapled to his face.

“I see. And the baby?”

“Is his. If you’re questioning that.”

“And you’re saying that wasn’t…planned?”

I narrow my eyes at him, wishing I had Godzilla powers right now.

A little blue flame, just enough to singe his face beyond recognition.

“If you are asking if I got pregnant to trap him once he becomes CEO of Hardin Records, the answer is no. We are very much pregnant, and it was very much not planned but it is what it is. And on that note…I don’t think any of these questions are appropriate and it would be very easy for me to report to HR–”

“Calm down,” Avery holds out a hand. “Believe it or not, Amanda, I didn’t come here to attack you. I only wanted to know what your intentions are.”

I stop. “My intentions?”

“Sure,” he starts to slowly pace. “You’re a smart girl, Amanda.

And I’m not a stupid guy. I know you’re good at what you do.

I know you love music, and this is your quote-unquote dream job.

But I also know you’re often taken advantage of.

I know about your spoiled sister and play-it-safe past. This is your big break.

And it would be even bigger if you had his wallet in your purse.

So, excuse me for being protective of the Hardin family name by wanting to know what it is you plan to do if and when our father hands the keys to the Ferrari down to Callum and not me.

Because agreement or not, you’re carrying the Hardin heir. ”

At this point, I am seeing red. The audacity of this man makes me question how he could possibly be related to Callum at all.

“My intention is to fix my mistakes. The first one being my carelessness. Yes, I am pregnant with your brother’s baby.

And yes, I am married to him and therefore legally tied to this company and your precious family name.

But I want to make something very, very clear.

The only things I care about right now are my job and my baby.

There are no ulterior motives. No sneaky plans.

No bad intentions. Whoever it is you think I am, and whatever type of women you Hardin men are used to dealing with, I can assure you I am not.

So, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. ”

I have no idea how long he plans to stay here and accuse me of shit I didn’t do but I’m over it. So instead of waiting for him to leave my workspace, I grab my things, and I walk out, leaving Avery behind me, hopefully with his mouth hanging open.