Fiona was glowing, her skin was radiant, and her bright, white smile gleamed as she chatted casually with the man beside her. She was dressed in a pretty black dress, her little belly protruding in a barely there round bump, and soft waves of perfectly styled hair flowed over her shoulders. A pair of leopard-print ballet flats completed the look. She’d apparently given up her sky-high heels she normally wore for something more modest.

“You okay?” Ben approached me from behind, pulling my attention away from Fiona. His hand came to a rest against my spine, like he knew I’d need the physical support.

I swallowed a mouthful of bitter saliva. “Another drink. Get me another drink,” I bit out.

He signaled the poor waiter, who was earning every last bit of that tip, and moments later I had a fresh Jack and Coke in my hand. I sucked it down greedily.

Fiona’s hand rested against her belly as she circulated the room and chatted with various industry people. Her eyes had wandered to Ben and me once, and he’d placed his arm protectively around my waist, pulling me closer. Fiona had kept going right on past us. I was glad I didn’t have to speak to her but even seeing her made me sick.

Several drinks later, I was clutching Ben’s arm just to keep vertical. He tipped my chin up to meet his eyes. His worried gaze locked on mine and I could see him mentally calculating how many drinks I’d had. “You ready for me to take you home, baby?”

I nodded, drunkenly. “Yeah. I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

Ben motioned for Ellie to take me, and after linking her arm through mine we headed through the gallery, thankfully without spotting Fiona on the way.

Ellie and I each slipped inside a stall and went about our business. But when I emerged, Fiona was standing at the sink inspecting her makeup.

Shit.

I took a deep breath and calmly approached the sink next to her and began soaping my hands. Maybe all that alcohol wasn’t the best idea. My stomach was churning violently and I felt woozy and disoriented under the harsh fluorescent lighting. I watched in silence as Fiona reapplied berry-red lipstick to her perfect pout.

I rinsed the suds from my hands and found my reflection in the mirror. In contrast to Fiona’s perfectly put-together appearance I was pale and . . . drunk looking.

Just great.

“It’s a nice event, isn’t it?” I attempted politeness, breaking the stony silence between us.

She shrugged, recapping her tube of lipstick and dropping it inside her tiny purse. “I was surprised to see you here, actually. Ben hadn’t said anything about you two being back together.”

Her words stung, I couldn’t lie. Ben should have told her to go to hell and that I was the love of his life. Why hadn’t he? While I was still rendered speechless, Fiona turned to face me. God, where the hell was Ellie?

“Enjoy him now while you can.” Her hand lovingly caressed her belly. “We’re going to be a family soon. We’ll have a forever connection. What will you have? Your memories of a great shag?”

I swallowed the dry lump in my throat, fighting back the tears and curse words I wanted to let rip. I opened my mouth, my intoxicated brain struggling to give voice to the words swirling in my brain.

“He’s stuck by me for five years. Don’t forget that sweetie. I’d be careful if I were you,” she warned, bitter venom lacing her voice.

Ellie emerged from the stall just then, standing tall beside me. “What Emmy and Ben have is none of your damn business, you old witch. Just worry about yourself.” Ellie’s tone was careful, measured, and I was thankful for her clear, level head. But her voice held a hint of warning, too, and I knew she could go from civilized to bitch in two seconds flat.

Fiona looked from Ellie back to me and let out a short laugh. “Enjoy yourselves while it lasts, girls.” She placed the little purse strap over her wrist and strolled from the restroom without a backward glance.

I learned that being highly intoxicated and emotionally drained from my showdown with Fiona didn’t mix well. When we found the guys again, Ben’s mouth tugged down in a frown and he looped an arm around my waist. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

I merely nodded and let him guide me to the exit, hoping that Fiona was somewhere nearby watching his arms encircle me.

The hiccups hit me on the limo ride back. Ben watched me with a worried expression and Ellie handed me a bottle of water from the limo minibar while Braydon sat slumped in the seat next to Ben.

“Here, sweetie, drink this.” She uncapped the bottle and urged me to take a sip.

The water should have been refreshing, but my belly was turning somersaults and my head was spinning from facing the wrong direction in the limo. I took a small sip and returned the bottle. I let my eyes slip closed and rested my head back against the leather headrest.

The three of them continued a low, murmured conversation beside me, and I tried to focus on what was being said since I was pretty sure they were discussing me.

“Your agent is a fucking bitch,” Ellie snapped.

“She means well, Ellie, trust me. You don’t know her like I do.”

“Yeah, right. She meant well when she was in the restroom just now telling Emmy that she was going to win you back.”

Braydon cleared his throat loudly but Ben remained quiet. I wanted him to argue, to shout and curse and swear that it was never going to happen. But his silence permeated the air, making my stomach turn in little somersaults.

“You think this is healthy for her? Being with you? Having to deal with this shit?” Ellie whispered coarsely.

“I don’t know,” Ben answered.

I wanted to argue with them, to tell them I was fine. Or that I would be once this damn limo stopped spinning. It was like a magic-carpet ride from hell. But I stayed quiet, trying to piece together their cryptic, murmured phrases.

Ben cursed under his breath. “I’m not giving her up. As long as she wants me, I’m here.”

I vaguely heard Ben instruct the driver to bring us home first then drop off Ellie and Braydon after. I hoped they would be okay alone together. For some reason they mixed about as well as oil and water. But I didn’t have time to worry about that. My attention was focused solely on praying that the contents of my stomach would stay put. By the time the limo rolled to a stop in front of Ben’s building, I’d lost the use of my legs. Well, shit.

Ben lifted me in his arms and carried me. When we reached his apartment, he brought me inside and set me down on the couch then removed my shoes. “Are you feeling okay?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely sure. God, why did I drink so much?

“I’ll go get you a glass of water and some pain reliever,” he said.

His words barely registered because the second he was out of the living room I was on my feet, darting for the bathroom. The liquor in my stomach churned violently and just as the toilet came into view I lost it, sinking to my knees and getting sick.

Ew. I hated throwing up. The coughing, the smell, the violent way my stomach kept convulsing long after I’d emptied it.

After I had thoroughly expelled everything from my system, I collapsed onto the floor in a heap. It was only then that I noticed Ben was beside me. Shit. He pushed the hair back from my face. I tried to focus on his perfect face but he was too blurry. The bathroom was tipping and spinning rather annoyingly. I was vaguely aware of his arms coming around me and lifting me off the floor before the world went black.


Ben

Emmy was dead weight in my arms. I hated seeing her like this, knowing she felt like shit. I placed her on my bed and went about removing her dress, bra, and panties. I dressed her in a pair of my boxer shorts and a T-shirt. My lucky Yankees shirt. Maybe it would make her feel better.

She curled into a ball in the center of my bed. “Benn . . .” Her arm failed out, her hand searching for me in a grabby motion.

“I’m right here, baby.” I gripped her hand, sliding my fingers between hers. “Shh. I’ve got you.”

“My head hurts,” she croaked.

“Let’s get you settled.” I shifted her so that she was positioned higher up on the mattress and slid a pillow underneath her head, then I pulled the comforter around her. “How’s that?”

She didn’t answer right away, and I was wondering if she’d passed out.

“You saw me barf.”

I suppressed a chuckle. “You were sick, honey. I wanted to take care of you.”

“I’m s-sorry. . . .” she groaned.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. Just rest, okay?” I smoothed the hair back from her face. She looked so sweet, so vulnerable, passed out drunk against my pillow, dressed in my Yankees T-shirt. I continued just watching her, caressing her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear.

She mumbled something unintelligible. “Bennn . . .” she groaned.

Shit. I was about to lift her up and carry her back to the bathroom just in case she was going to be sick again. “Yeah, baby?”

Emmy pouted, her bottom lip jutting out like she might cry. “She looked really pretty . . . she had a cute tummy. . . .”

What?

Oh.

Pregnant Fiona.

Emmy’s brow crinkled in concentration as she fought sleep. “She’s having a . . . a b-baby, and it might be your baby, right, Ben?”

“I don’t think it’s my baby.” I choked on the words. We were seriously discussing this now? I almost considered leaving her to sleep but I was too curious to hear what else she might say.

“Me and you are gonna make pretty babies,” she said.

Holy shit. Was she serious? I didn’t want a baby.

“The prettiest,” I agreed. “Now sleep, honey.” I patted her butt and she let out a soft groan.

Fuck. I paced the living room floor. I couldn’t handle seeing Emmy like this . . . and then hearing her talk about wanting a baby . . . with me? Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but shit. I was nowhere near ready for a baby. I was still learning about how to be a boyfriend. And I wasn’t even very good at that.

Too keyed up for sleep, I sat down on the armchair with my iPad.

5

Emmy

The room was much too bright, and my throat felt raw and scratchy. I blinked my eyes open and attempted to swallow.

Ouch.

It was raw and irritated.

What the hell happened last night?

Oh God. Memories flashed into focus. Fiona with her perfect little baby bump. Me binging on liquor. I struggled to remember what happened after that.

I blinked at my surroundings. Ben lay next to me, asleep and resting peacefully, his hair rumpled from sleep and a crease across one cheek.

I was glad I was here with him but how had I gotten into his bed?

Memories of getting sick in his bathroom and him tucking me into bed danced in my subconscious.

God, my head was pounding.

I flung off the blankets and climbed from the bed on unsteady legs, trying to be as quiet as possible. I wanted to let him sleep. I shuffled to the kitchen for a glass of water. I’d downed half of it when my stomach grumbled loudly. Rather than finishing the water, like my parched throat craved, I heeded the advice of my stomach and set the glass of water on the counter. We’d need to take it easy today.

I heated up the shower to wash last night’s makeup and grime from my skin. The water felt divine, and after shampooing my hair with Ben’s all-purpose hair-and-body wash that smelled like light, crisp cologne, I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel and shuffled back to the bedroom. I redressed in the pajamas he must have put me in—boxers and a T-shirt.

When I climbed in beside him Ben rolled toward me and covered my body in a hug. “Mmm, morning, baby. . . .” he mumbled, his lips brushing my collarbone.

“Morning.” I curled into him, tangling my legs with his.

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay. A little queasy,” I admitted.

“I can make you some toast if you like.”

“That’s all right. I should probably get home.” Nothing like overstaying your welcome. He was used to having his own space, peace, and quiet, I was sure.

His arms tightened around me. “You’re not going anywhere today.”

I laughed softly. “Oh, really?”

“You’re mine today. Know that.”

I smiled at his conviction. I loved knowing I was his. Hopefully I didn’t do anything too awkward when I was drunk last night. “Thanks for taking care of me.”