“What? A bun in the oven and you didn’t say anything—”
“What bun?” comes Emmett’s eerily calm voice from behind us.
Shit.
Sasha’s neck and head sink until her shoulders are nearly touching her ears. Her expression says, Sorry!
I squeeze my eyes shut for a second. This is not how I wanted him to find out. I inhale, then hold my breath for a moment. My heart starts racing.
Settle the hell down. I paste on a fake smile, the same one I put on when I’m trying to look happy about Emmett dumping a last-minute task on my desk.
“I’m waiting,” Emmett says, still in that scarily calm voice.
I turn to him, the smile still firmly glued to my face. “Emmett! What are you doing here?”
“It’s my firm.”
Right.
His gaze flicks to Sasha, then snaps back to me. “My office, please.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns and walks out. He didn’t grab whatever he came to the break room for, damn it. I wish he’d gotten a snack or coffee or whatever, because that might improve his mood.
Right now, he most definitely feels like finding fault with me. He won’t have missed the fact that my roommate knew about my pregnancy and he didn’t.
“I am so sorry,” Sasha whispers, her whole face pinched.
I pat her shoulder. “It’s fine. Might as well get this over with.”
“Are you going to tell him about the…you know?” she whispers, without mentioning the word “resignation.”
I shake my head. “I’m still thinking about the offer.” I also have two more second-round interviews. “I’ll be fine.” I hope.
I straighten my spine and walk purposefully to Emmett’s office. He left his door ajar, so I walk in and close it behind me.
He’s leaning against the edge of his desk, his expression unreadable. “Take a seat.”
I do.
“So.” His cool gaze drops to my belly briefly before meeting my eyes. “The bun.”
“Yeah, um…” I exhale, feeling like a prisoner about to be executed. “I found out on Friday.”
“Is it Rick’s?” he asks with a small frown.
“No.” I’m not offended by the question. Sasha asked the same thing. “It’s most definitely not his.”
Is it me, or d
id the tension in Emmett’s shoulders ease a little? He doesn’t ask me how I know, just nods.
So I feel compelled to add, “My guess is that it happened that first time…here. We didn’t use a condom.”
“Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
His calm attitude makes me twitchy with anxiety. Shouldn’t he react with more…emotion? Accuse me of getting pregnant on purpose to entrap him or something? “It didn’t seem like something I should text.”
“But on Saturday?”