The Pregnancy Test (NY Girlfriends #1)(47)
Author: Erin McCarthy

"They’ll all be awake if you don’t go get Mandy for me." So he was being the jerk she’d labeled him, but there was no way he could go and wait until the morning. He just couldn’t. "Please? I really need to talk to her."

The voice sighed into the intercom. She groaned. "You really won’t leave, will you?"

"No."

With a slur on the character of his mother, she hit the buzzer to open the door. Damien grabbed it and ran up the three flights of stairs at top speed so she wouldn’t change her mind. He knocked on the door.

It yanked open, and a woman with long brown hair and even longer legs glared at him. "You’re a lunatic, you know that?"

"No, I’m just assertive."

She rolled her eyes. There was only one muted lamp on behind her in the apartment and a dim hall light, but Damien could read the antagonism on her face. "Assertive… asshole. Same difference."

"I’m sorry I woke you up. But I just got back from Chicago and I really, really needed to see Mandy, and I sort of forgot she has roommates."

Damien suddenly became aware that she was basically in her underwear, and he started to question the wisdom of this impromptu visit. Not that she looked worried about the fact that she was in bikini panties and a tank top, but he felt something like embarrassment.

"Allison, did I hear the doorbell?" A blonde with white spots of cream all over her face stumbled down the hallway in blue satin pajamas with fat pink pigs on them.

"Yes, you heard the doorbell. Damien wants to see Mandy."

The blonde’s head snapped up, and her eyes widened. "Mr. Sharpton? Oh, my God!"

Yep, this had been a bad idea. "Hi, Caroline. I, uh, didn’t recognize you there at first."

Her hand flew to her head and the hair that normally was so well contained and was now puffy and flyaway.

He realized what a stupid thing that was to say.

Her hand moved to her face and touched one of the white spots.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable, he cleared his throat.

"Sorry to wake all of you up. I just wanted to see Mandy for a minute."

Caroline dropped her hand. Her eyes narrowed. "She was worried about you. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you."

It was a reprimand, plain and simple, for leaving without telling Mandy where he was going. He didn’t know what to say since she was most likely right, so he set his suitcase down and pushed down the expandable handle.

"Are you moving in?" Allison asked, sounding amused.

"I came straight from LaGuardia."

Allison yawned. "First door on the right. Go for it. I’m going back to bed."

She went down the hall, tugging her tank top down. But he’d already seen way more than he’d meant to, including her left butt cheek. With a grimace, he glanced at Caroline, who did not look pleased with him.

"You share a room with Mandy, don’t you?"

"Yes. Just let me grab my pillow and a blanket and I’ll sleep on the couch."

"I’m not going to be that long," he protested.

She snorted. The pink pigs on her shirt wiggled as she stomped into her bedroom and reemerged with a huge comforter and double-wide pillow. Passing him, she clipped him with her shoulder and stumbled a little. Damien reached out and tried to steady her, but she shook him off.

Feeling like a gigantic jackass, he went into the bedroom and stood still for a minute, adjusting to the dark. He could hear Mandy breathing in her sleep to his right. Some light filtered in through the white wood blinds and cast stripes on her legs, covered by a sheet.

They had their air-conditioning running, yet Mandy still looked warm, her hair matted to her forehead, her legs scissoring like she was trying to kick the covers off in her sleep. He thought she was amazingly beautiful.

"Mandy." She didn’t stir, so he took a step toward her and spoke louder. "Mandy."

She rolled over. Damien cursed, rubbing his temples. He dropped to his knees next to her bed and shook her shoulder a little. Her flesh was hot, with a sheen of perspiration, which he knew was normal for this stage of pregnancy. Night sweats, the book called them.

"Mandy." Feeling desperate and ridiculous, he shook her again and kissed her lightly.

With a jerk, she came awake, her eyes wide and unfocused. "Wha…"

"It’s me, Damien."

"Damien? What’s the matter?" Mandy tried to sit up, but he held her shoulders gently.

"Shh. It’s okay, nothing’s the matter. I just needed to see you."

He had needed to see her, to touch her, to remind himself what could never be. To stare her straight in the eye and tell her that love was pain and he didn’t want any more of that ever.

Yet it was so hard to remember any of that when she blinked up at him and all he wanted to do was kiss her, hold her, love her.

Chapter 21

Mandy fell back against her pillow, thinking she was having a really vivid dream, that annoying pregnancy side effect that had been plaguing her nearly from conception. But Damien looked real enough, even if she couldn’t see his face clearly in the shadows. And if she were dreaming he would be naked. "I thought you were in Chicago. And what time is it?"

She was struggling to figure out why he was in her bedroom in the middle of the night. Not that she was complaining, mind you. But it struck her as a little odd, to say the least. She was hoping it was odd in a good way, as though he’d had an epiphany that he reciprocated her feelings.

"I was in Chicago, but I just got back. It’s two in the morning. After you called this afternoon when I was getting the tattoo, I finished up my business and took the first flight back." He brushed her hair back off her forehead.

Sitting up, Mandy grimaced. Her hair was sweaty. Nice and sexy. Not that Damien seemed interested in sexy when she studied him in the dim lighting. He looked as if his dog had died. Which meant anything he might say was probably not going to involve his own vow of love and wish to remain by her side through better or worse, richer or poorer, having another man’s child, whatever.

"We need to talk."

"We need to talk."

Swallowing, she felt sadness rush over her. Those words were the kiss of death for relationships. We need to talk meant one of two things. You’re clinging to me and I’m not ready, so I need some space – aka We’re breaking up. Or This just isn’t working anymore – aka We’re breaking up.

"Okay," she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. While she loved Damien, if he didn’t want a relationship, she wasn’t going to pursue him. She was too old and too pregnant for that kind of futile and desperate effort. "Why were you in Chicago, Damien?"