Harper collapsed onto the bar stool and put her head between her legs. What if she was pregnant? She’d drank enough tequila to do permanent damage to her own head, what had it done to… She put her hand over her middle. God.
Flashes of health class warnings from school filled her brain. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome? How much drinking would cause that? How much had she drank since she’d gotten pregnant? How many times had she shared a bottle of wine with Deacon at the end of the night or with Annie after a shitty party?
“Miss?”
Harper shot off the stool and knocked over chairs and God knew what else to get to the bathroom. She slammed onto her knees and everything she’d managed to eat came up.
A knock came at her door. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Harper said and felt another heave tighten her belly. Luckily she hadn’t really eaten anything. And she certainly wouldn’t be having chocolate ice cream anytime soon.
She heard the faucet run and then a hand with paper towels came under the door.
“Thank you.” Harper put the wet towel over her face then along the back of her neck before standing up and opening the door.
The woman with dark hair was leaning back against the counter. “Well, you don’t look drunk.”
Harper went to the sink at the far end of the counter. “No, I haven’t had anything to drink.”
“Either that’s a truly shitty case of food poisoning, or you have yourself a problem, darlin’.”
“Look. I don’t want to be rude, but…”
“Mind my own business?”
Harper met the woman’s shrewd blue eyes in the mirror. “Yeah.”
The woman’s eyebrow raised. “You come in my bar and toss your cookies, I kinda make it my business. Especially if you’re of the pregnant variety. You do what you want on your own time, but I don’t serve pregnant ladies here.”
Harper leaned heavily on the sink. “Oh, crap.” Her vision blurred and the sob came out of nowhere.
“Ah, hell.” The woman backed up and ripped off more paper towels. “Okay, honey. Relax.”
Harper reached for the paper towels. “I’m sorry,” she said around a hiccup. She blew out a ragged breath and sucked another deep one in. “I just figured out I was pregnant. I don’t know if I am for sure. I just got the clue and I—”
I just unknowingly tried to drown it in tequila the other night? Was that what she was supposed to say? Horrified, she bent over and put her head between her knees again.
“Okay, okay.” The woman took her by the elbow and led her toward the door. “Done puking?”
“I think so.”
She pulled her into the dining room and off to the deck outside. “Elise,” the woman shouted. “Get me a glass of water for our friend, huh?”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Honey, you came into my bar and had a little panic attack. It’s no big deal.”
“I’m Harper.”
“Rhianna. I own this place. You can call me Rhi though.”
Harper collapsed into one of the chairs and tipped her head back. Tears were still leaking from her eyes, for God’s sake. “I’m sorry. I’ll be okay in a minute.”
“Is there a reason you came tear-assing into my bar?”
Harper leaned forward until her forehead was touching the table. “I was looking for DJ.”
“Oh, so you’re one of her friends?”
“No, not really. I don’t know why I came down here exactly. I’m on my honeymoon. I left my husband sleeping and just had to get here to talk to DJ. I don’t know anyone else.” She drew in a stuttering breath. “I don’t have anyone to call. God, how freaking pathetic is that?” The only person she was close enough to talk to about this was exactly who she couldn’t tell. Jazz would lose her damn mind if she told her. And how could she expect her to keep a secret like this? It affected the entire band, not just them.
Then there was Deacon. He would kill her if she told anyone else before him.
No. She had no one to tell. She could call her mother, but they hadn’t been very close in the last five years.
What the hell did that say about her?
That she had no real girlfriends in all of this? She laid her cheek on the table, grateful for the cool surface. “DJ was just the first person I thought of.”
“Okay.”
Harper sat up. “Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense. I panicked. I don’t know if I’m pregnant for sure, but I don’t know where anything is around here. We’ve been holed up…”
“Doing what got you into trouble in the first place?”
Harper put her head down in her arms with a muffled scream. Yes. They’d been freaking screwing like there was no tomorrow. And before that, it was in desperate late night moments. “How could this have happened? I’m so good about my birth control. We just got married, for God’s sake. I just started a freaking business.”
Rhianna closed her hand over her arm. “Honey, you gotta take it down a notch. You’re going to hyperventilate.”
“Of course I am.” She popped her head up to stare into the sympathetic blue eyes of the woman across from her. “I can’t be pregnant.”
“Did you do the math?”
“Yes.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m probably six weeks-ish.”