37

ROCELLO

I woke up next to my buddies. Naked next to my buddies.

I sat up, shoving Slade’s arm out of the way. Where the fuck was Margo? She’d been a very integral part of our celebration last night. Grumbling, I made my way to the kitchen, stopping to get rid of what felt like a gallon of whiskey in the bathroom first.

Out on the table was a note. Margo had gone to the drugstore for some medicine. She wasn’t feeling well, the note said.

Well, she’d had a lot to drink the night before. We all had.

I glanced out the window as I put on the coffee. My SUV was gone, so she must’ve taken it.

We were all up and dressed, by the time I saw her pull in. Jumaine had even scrambled some eggs.

When Margo entered the cabin carrying a white bag, I picked her up and spun her around. She hugged me back, but then she groaned. And not the same kind of groan I’d heard last night when we made her come again and again.

She pushed against my chest. “Put me down—I’m still feeling a bit hungover.”

Slade grinned at her from across the room. “And the spinning isn't helping?”

“Definitely not.”

She walked over and gave him a quick kiss. Then Jumaine offered her a plate of eggs.

“No thanks,” she squeaked, her face turning green. She sprinted to the bathroom, the pharmacy bag still clutched in her hand.

Unlike her, we were in good enough shape to eat. We were almost done by the time Margo emerged from the bathroom.

“You okay, sweetheart?” I called.

She nodded, but she still looked a little green around the gills.

Jumaine noticed, too, and pulled out a chair. “Here, have a seat.”

She moved forward as if in slow motion. I couldn’t quite figure it out. I’d seen her hungover before. Next time we had a wild evening, it would have to include more sex and less booze.

I could get behind that.

Slade reached across the table to cup Margo’s cheek. Then he frowned. “Do we need to take you to a doctor?”

“No,” she said slowly, as if saying the word for the first time. “I mean yes. But not now.”

I moved to her side, kneeling down next to her, seriously worried. “What’s wrong?”

In answer, she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a little white stick.

Jumaine gasped, but I didn’t know what it was and why she was showing it to me.

“It’s positive,” she said, holding it up in front of her. Slade swore in a shocked voice.

“What—” I began, but then I saw it. Two little lines. I’d heard something on a TV commercial about two little lines.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

“You’re pregnant?” I gasped.

She turned to me, biting her lip. Her face was pale now. “I—I think I am.”

The shock in her expression overrode everything else. I reached out and took her in my arms. My own shock could wait. Right now, she needed me.