Page 32 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

The greenhouse was my favorite place. A sanctuary. Here, we created life. We made messes. My staff all knew that when you were at The Gallaway, you smiled at guests but stayed in the periphery. The greenhouse was where we could all let loose and be ourselves.

Here, the world made sense. Here, I could figure this pregnancy thing out.

I meandered down the aisles between planting tables, my tennis shoes crunching on the gravel floor. There were a few poinsettias left that hadn’t been perfect enough for the hotel. This morning, I’d earmarked each for my employees to take home. The seedling trays were mostly stacked and empty. We wouldn’t fill and plant the majority of them until February or March, depending on the varietal. But the scent from the plants lingered year-round.

The small desk at the far end of the greenhouse was cluttered with papers. My laptop was collecting dust. Two forgotten water bottles joined the mess. The space served as my office, where I’d place supply orders and draft work schedules and answer the rare email.

When I’d worked as the temporary GM, I’d used Andy’s office. The view was spectacular but spending my time there had been beautiful torture. I wasn’t meant for a fancy office and paperwork. Though I’d muddled through fine, making sure that everyone had their duties covered, it had never fit. Not like the greenhouse. This was where I was most comfortable. This was where I was the most productive. This was where life made sense.

Most days.

I plopped into my black upholstered chair, spinning it to the desk and slouching down deep. Then I dug my phone from my pocket to make the call—or calls—that were two days overdue.

Clara answered on the second ring. “Hey. All set for tomorrow?”

“Yep.” I sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t fly to Arizona and spend the day with her and August, waiting for him to go to bed, with this news hanging over my head. She’d know from the moment she picked me up at the airport that something was wrong. And this was not news I wanted to deliver with August in the car. “Got a second? I need to tell you something.”

“I don’t like that tone,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

I gulped. “I’m pregnant.”

“W-what?”

“I’m pregnant.”

“Oh.” The silence dragged after that one pained syllable. “I, um . . . I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

“I’m not.” God, this was hard. And about to get worse. “It was a one-time thing.”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” I admitted, tears welling in my eyes. “But I will be.”

Tomorrow, when I could soak up one of her hugs, I’d tell her I was scared. I’d tell her I didn’t know how to be a mother, not after we’d lost our own so young. I’d tell her that I didn’t know how to fit an infant into my life, and I had no idea how to incorporate Brody into the mix.

“What can I do?” Clara asked.

My heart squeezed. “I’ll be ready for a hug tomorrow.”

“I’ll have one waiting.”

“And I need . . .” I closed my eyes. Damn it, this sucked.

“You need what?”

I swallowed down my fears and braced. “I need Brody’s number.”

“Why—” She gasped, putting the pieces together. “He’s the father?”

I nodded.

“Aria?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “It happened after the wedding.”

“Um . . .” She trailed off and stayed quiet. Then she cleared her throat. “He’s right here. Let me give him the phone.”