Two days have passed since the Halloween party. The next morning, after pancakes, we agreed to keep quiet about us hooking up. Witnessing everyone, myself included, in Georgia and Archer’s love life was a warning to keep private until we’re ready to talk about it. I don’t want to start my whatever this is with Lincoln alongside everyone asking questions and invading our privacy before we even have the opportunity to form a healthy relationship.

Another reason is fear.

What if things don’t work out with Lincoln?

What if we try something more serious than being friends and end up hating each other?

What if he isn’t as much into me as he said?

Quinton really messed with my head.

I’m scared to put everything out there, only for Lincoln to break things off later and make me look like an idiot.

I shove my wallet into my purse. “Jamie gave birth to baby Fox, so I’m stopping by the hospital to give her the adorable onesie I bought and to meet her. Want to tag along?”

He rubs his chin as if in deep thought. “Sure.”

“Don’t act too enthused now.”

Placing his hands together, he holds them to his heart and mocks my voice. “Oh my God, yes! I want to bring all the baby gifts with you.”

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and point at him. “That’s more like it, Callahan.”

“Your car or mine?”

“Mine.”

“Your place or mine later?”

“Mine, considering neither your brother nor Georgia can know about us yet.”

A flicker of disappointment flashes over his features when he says, “Okay.”

Lincoln remote-starts his car to warm it up, and before we get in, I grab the baby gift from my back seat. On our way to the hospital, we make a Starbucks pit stop, where he gives me a quick peck on the lips before handing over my iced caramel mocha.

I gotta give it to the man. He knows how to turn on the romance in and out of the bedroom. Well … the foreplay in the bedroom since we’ve yet to have sex. Every time I try, he says we’re not ready yet.

When we walk into the hospital waiting room, we find Georgia and Archer sitting next to each other. “Hey, guys!” I flick my wrist in a wave.

Georgia smiles, returns the wave, and then whispers into Archer’s ear. Archer nods in greeting, nearly all his attention on his girlfriend, while Lincoln and I take the chairs across from them.

With my insecurities creeping in, I wrinkle my nose while fighting back a frown. When someone whispers, I automatically assume it’s about me. Blame it on growing up, competing in stupid beauty pageants, and living in a sorority house full of competition and toxicity. You only whisper if you’re gossiping about someone.