Chapter 04: Two Pink Lines

ANDREA’S POV

The smell of coffee nearly killed me. One moment, I was sitting at the kitchen counter with my laptop open in front of me, pretending to answer emails while secretly staring at Marcus and Riley’s pre-wedding photos on I*******m. The next, my stomach twisted so violently that I shot out of my chair.

I barely made it to the bathroom before vomiting. My knees hit the cold tiles as another wave of nausea rolled through me. Tears stung my eyes from the force of it. When it finally stopped, I sat back against the bathtub and pressed a trembling hand against my forehead.

God. What was wrong with me?

For the past week, my body had felt completely foreign. Every morning, I woke up exhausted no matter how much sleep I got. Food made me sick. My head constantly ached. Even the smell of perfume and coffee seemed stronger than usual.

At first, I had blamed stress. After everything that happened at my birthday party, stress made perfect sense. My boyfriend had proposed to my best friend. My life had imploded. Then there was Ryder.

The memory of that night still haunted me, not because I regretted it. At least not entirely. But because I couldn't stop thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

"Andrea!"

My roommate, Blair's voice echoed from the hallway. A second later, she appeared in the bathroom doorway. Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Again?"

"Please don't start,” I groaned.

Blair stepped into the bathroom and crossed her arms. "You've been throwing up for almost a week."

"It's probably your cooking. Blair, please stop cooking,” I replied with a heavy sigh.

She pointed toward the kitchen. "Andrea, you made dinner last night."

I opened my mouth, then closed it again.

Blair’s expression softened as she crouched beside me. The irritation on her face gave way to concern.

"When was the last time you got your period?"

The question hit me like a punch. I froze. For several seconds, neither of us spoke. The bathroom suddenly felt too quiet, and too small. Slowly, I started counting backward. My stomach dropped.

No. That wasn't possible.

"It's late,” I whispered.

Blair stared at me. "How late?"

I looked away from her gaze. "A few weeks."

Her face immediately changed. "Andrea, you need to take a test."

I let out a nervous laugh, the sound came out strained.

“I can’t… be pregnant. Can I?” I muttered as I rubbed my temples.

My chest tightened as the memories flooded back. Those storm-gray eyes, that deep voice, those strong hands, and the scent of expensive cologne.

Ryder Santos.

The stranger I had met in a club. The stranger whose face had occupied my thoughts far more than I cared to admit. The stranger whose bed I had climbed into without thinking about the aftermath.

No. I immediately shoved the thought away. One reckless night couldn't possibly destroy my life even more than it already had. Right?

The next morning, I found myself sitting inside a hospital waiting room.

Gosh, I hated hospitals. The white walls, the sterile smell, and the endless waiting. Every second felt like torture. My knee bounced uncontrollably as I stared at the television mounted on the wall. I wasn't watching it.

My thoughts were too loud. Maybe Blair was wrong, maybe I had some weird stomach bug, maybe stress really was making me sick. Maybe—

"Miss Morgan?" a nurse called from the doorway.

I quickly got to my feet and walked inside the doctor’s office. The appointment felt endless. Questions, tests, more questions, then waiting.

By the time the doctor returned, my nerves were completely shredded. She sat down across from me and opened a file. A warm smile appeared on her face. That smile terrified me.

"Miss Morgan," she said gently. “The test came back positive, Miss Morgan. You’re approximately three weeks pregnant.”

My fingers tightened around the chair as the room tilted. Everything inside me froze. The words refused to make sense. I was pregnant at twenty-seven. Single. Heartbroken. And now carrying the child of a man I had known for less than a night.

Dear God. What should I do?

By the time I arrived home, the sun was beginning to set. Blair opened the door before I could even reach for my keys. The moment she saw my face, her smile disappeared. Neither of us spoke as I walked into the living room.

I sat heavily on the couch as Blair sat beside me.

"What did the doctor say?" she asked, unable to contain her curiosity.

"I'm pregnant,” I whispered, staring at my hands.

Blair inhaled sharply. "Oh my God."

For a moment, neither of us knew what to say. Then Blair reached for my hand.

"Is it Marcus’s child?" Blair asked, squeezing my hand.

I shook my head. “It’s not his,” I muttered.

Her eyebrows rose immediately. But before she could say anything I continued.

“I had a one night stand with a complete stranger on the night of birthday,” I blurted it out.

Blair looked like her brain had stopped functioning.

“You had a one-night stand?” She asked in disbelief. “Please tell me he gave you a name or his contact.”

Those words made my heart skip. Because saying his name out loud somehow made everything more real. It made me remember asking him for the name to moan to that night.

I slowly lowered my hands.

"Ryder. Ryder Santos,” I whispered.

Her reaction was immediate. I could see the color completely drained from Blair's face.

"What’s wrong, Blair?" I asked, frowning.

She stared at me for what felt like two minutes. "What did you just say?"

"The name of the man I shamelessly seduced is Ryder Santos," I answered, spelling it out for her to understand properly.

"The Ryder Santos?"

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Blair looked seconds away from hyperventilating. She snatched her phone from the coffee table and started typing furiously. A moment later, she shoved the screen toward me.

My breath caught as I stared at the photo in front of me. Dark hair, those storm-gray eyes. Expensive suit. Power practically radiating from the photograph.

That was him. Ryder.

My stomach dropped. I stared at the screen—really stared at it, at the man I had spent the past three weeks trying not to think about. The father of my baby.

"Andrea! You slept with one of the richest men in New York!” Blair almost yelled out.

My jaw dropped.

"Oh my God!” I blurted out, placing my hands over my mouth.

Isn’t life so complicated? Three weeks ago, I felt like I was going to die from betrayal, and just when I had partially gathered myself together my world had turned dark with this news.

Blair sat still, unable to find her next words. I sat there hoping this was a nightmare that I could wake up from. Eventually, Blair adjusted as she pushed closer to me, more carefully this time as though she was afraid the situation might somehow explode.

"What are you going to do now?" She asked in a whisper.

The question settled heavily between us. What was I going to do? I had no definite answer to that question.

I turned my gaze toward the window and stared at the city lights glittering against the darkness.

Marcus was here. Riley was here. And their wedding was in a week. Every street reminded me of betrayal. Every corner reminded me of everything I had lost.

And now this pregnancy. This secret. This impossible future.

My chest tightened.

"I think I should leave,” I replied, fighting back tears.

Blair immediately shook her head. "Don’t say that, Andrea."

"I can't stay here, Blair. I just can’t do this.” I replied with a finality in my voice.

Blair took a deep breath, then gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “Running away won’t solve this problem.”

I looked down at my stomach, at the tiny life growing inside me. A child who had done absolutely nothing wrong. A child who deserved better than chaos and heartbreak.

"You need to tell him.”