Beautifully Baked: A Sweet Romantic Comedy by Holly Kerr

Author:Holly Kerr [Kerr, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Birds Press
Published: 2019-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Clay

Flowers forgotten, my phone is in my hand as the door of Fleur swings shut behind me. At least I picked up my pastry bag.

A baby?

Abby had a baby—my baby?

The timing works. I hate to say it, but it works. Abby and I dated for six weeks—a relationship length of time for me—a year ago. I remember because I went to my parents for Thanksgiving and didn’t invite her. Liv had been furious with me, but Abby took it in stride, or so I thought. We mutually ended things soon after.

Thanksgiving was last week.

I liked Abby. She was cool and liked things casual. I liked her as much as I could like someone who isn’t M.K. But—a baby. She wasn’t pregnant when we broke up. I would have known.

What do I do now? What am I supposed to do with this information?

I don’t bother texting Abby. This calls for person to person, or at least voice to voice to begin with. I find her name in my contacts as I stalk to my car, the bag with the pain au chocolat crumpled between my coffee and my hand.

“Clay?”

Abby’s voice is hesitant as she picks up. I stand frozen by my car at a loss what to say. “Did you have my baby?” I blurt.

“What?”

“I just saw Heather, and she said you had a baby, and it’s mine. Is it?” I hold my breath, not knowing what I want her to say.

Do I have a child that I never knew about?

“I tried to tell you,” she says defensively.

My breath whooshes out in a huff, and I sag against my car. “You had my baby?” I whisper hoarsely. “My child.”

“I tried to tell you,” Abby echoes.

“You didn’t try very hard!” I glance around, not wanting anyone to hear this conversation, not wanting M.K. to hear. “Jesus, Abby, how can you just throw this on me?”

“I’m not throwing anything on you. You’re the one who called me. I wasn’t even going to tell you.”

“Why not?” My voice raises enough that a customer walking into Pain turns to look at me. “Look, we need to talk about this. I need to know things—a lot of things. And not here on the phone. But now.”

“Are you sure about this?”

I pull my cell away from my ear and stare at it like it’s about to self-combust. I’m about to self-combust. How could Abby keep this from me?

“Of course I’m sure. This is a baby we’re talking about.”

“My baby,” Abby corrects.

“Our baby,” I insist.

“Fine, if this is really what you want. I’ll meet you at your apartment in an hour.”

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