Songbird by Sydney Logan

lunch? What does she like to eat? Is she having any of those weird pregnancy cravings?
    These are things I need to know.
    Camping outside a woman’s apartment puts things into perspective. Last night, while I struggled to sleep against her door, I admitted to myself that I obviously have feelings for this woman. It’s impossible to deny it when I seem to get excited about the most inconsequential things. Like the way her eyes sparkled this morning when she opened the door to find me there.
    She’d deny it, of course, but I know what I saw.
    After hanging up with Owen, I finish responding to the last of my emails before closing my computer and heading out the door. I can’t concentrate, anyway.
    “I’m headed out for a while, Alicia.”
    She looks up from her computer screen. “Do you promise to come back this time?”
    I grin. “I promise.”
    “Don’t forget to stop by your parents’ house. Your dad seems anxious to see you.”
    I bet. “I won’t forget.”
    “Is there anything I can do for you while you’re out?”
    Owen’s advice rattles around in my brain. Gifts, man. Not for the baby, but for Callie.
    “Actually, there is something you could help me with. You’re a girl—”
    “Last time I checked, yes.”
    “What kinds of gifts do women prefer?”
    She smirks. “You’ve never bought a gift for a woman?”
    “Does my mother count?”
    “No.”
    Shit.
    “What’s the occasion?”
    How much should I tell her? I decide to be honest. Everybody’s going to know soon enough, anyway.
    “I need a gift that says I’m sorry for being a heartless bastard when you told me you were having my baby. Any suggestions?”
    My usually stoic secretary’s eyes grow wide.
    “I don’t think Hallmark makes a card for that, Mr. McAllister.”
    She’s trying hard not to laugh, which is good, because I really don’t want to have to fire her.
    “I really could use some advice here, Alicia.”
    “Of course, sir. May I ask a question?”
    “Sure.”
    “Just how big of a heartless bastard were you?”
    “Fairly epic.”
    She nods. “Then I’d probably start with flowers. I can call the florist if you’d like.”
    That’s a great idea. Girls like flowers, right?
    “Roses. White roses.”
    Will Callie remember? Will she even care?
    “White?”
    “Yes. A dozen?”
    Alicia taps her pen against her chin. “Better make it two. And I suggest you stop by and take care of the message on the card. It’ll mean more to her if it’s in your handwriting.”
    I smile. “Perfect. Thank you, Alicia. Remind me to give you a raise.”
    She’s already dialing the number.
    “Oh, don’t worry. I will.”
     

     
    Before dealing with the florist, I decide to make the drive to my parents’ house. I don’t normally dread spending time with them, but I am so not in the mood for a lecture, and I know one’s coming from my father. After all, he’s the one family member who hasn’t offered his opinion about the baby situation.
    I don’t bother knocking. I just walk in and head straight to the study. That’s where I always find him. Sure enough, he’s sitting behind his desk, gazing out the window.
    “Hey, Dad.”
    He turns his head and smiles.
    “Good morning, son. You look like shit.”
    “Thanks a lot.”
    Dad chuckles and offers me a seat on the leather couch.
    “I’d ask if you’d like a drink, but it’s not even noon. Besides, you’ve probably had enough for a while.”
    “I see you’ve talked to Owen.”
    “And to your mother. They’re both very fond of Callie.”
    “I know. My whole family’s in love with her.”
    “What about you?”
    “What about me?”
    “Are you in love with her?”
    I glance at the mini bar. Maybe I could use a drink.
    “Is that even possible?”
    Dad stands up from his desk chair and joins me on the couch. “Oh, I think anything is possible, son. You’re going to be a father. I’d be willing to bet that Satan himself is wearing a parka because hell has officially frozen