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isn’t in my plan. I want to write. I want to win a Pulitzer. I want to have a real career, and then I’ll settle down and have a family. Not now .
    That stupid wedding is going to haunt me for the rest of my life.
    I can’t help but laugh when I remember how much I wanted no reminders of that weekend. The hickey has long since faded and the flower’s dead. All that remains is the handwritten note.
    And a baby.
    It’s times like these when a girl needs her mother. That’s a phone call I dread, because my mom will be horrified that I’m following in her footsteps. Thanks to my unexpected arrival, she and Dad had married young. Since I was old enough to date, Mom had instilled in me her belief that smart girls always waited. Smart girls never allowed hormones to override common sense. Smart girls don’t get knocked up by guys they’d just met in a piano bar.
    So, no, I won’t be calling her anytime soon.
    I’ve just pulled into my apartment’s parking garage when my cell vibrates in the passenger seat. A quick glance at the screen makes me curse under my breath.
    Frank.
    I really don’t want to talk to my editor today.
    Guilt wins out, and I turn off the ignition before answering.
    “Callie Franklin.”
    “You’re covering tonight’s hospital benefit.”
    This is Frank’s typical greeting. No hello. No how are ya. He just barks out orders.
    “Hospital benefit?”
    “Children’s Hospital? Ring a bell?”
    Snap out of it, Callie.
    “Of course, yes! Umm . . . I thought Kayla was covering that.”
    “Kayla has the flu. You keep saying you want a shot, so here’s your shot. It’s formal, so dress . . . formally. Interview some members of the hospital administration, maybe a few benefactors, and even a parent or two if they’re willing. I need copy on my desk by midnight in time for the morning edition. Stop by the office and pick up your press pass.”
    I can’t help but smile. This day just became infinitely better.
    “Who’s my photographer?”
    “Oliver. Meet him at the hotel entrance at six. He’ll text you the address.”
    Even better. I love Oliver.
    Grateful to have a break from my personal drama, I thank him for the opportunity and then immediately call Megan.
    “So?” she answers breathlessly.
    “So . . . yeah. Positive.”
    She squeals as if this is wonderful news.
    “What are you going to do, Callie?”
    “Nothing right now. I have a more pressing issue, believe it or not.”
    I tell her about the last-minute assignment to the charity event. I have nothing formal in my closet, and Megan owns a downtown boutique. I give her a budget, and she promises to have a dress and shoes delivered to my house within an hour.
    With that out of the way, I head inside. I’ve barely made it into my apartment when my cell rings again.
    “I heard,” Lorie says with a sigh.
    “About the baby or the event?”
    “Both.”
    Good news travels fast.
    Knowing I won’t have time to eat later, I make myself a sandwich while we talk.
    “I’m so glad you’ll be there tonight, too,” she says.
    “Too?”
    “Owen invited me. It’s a total meet-the-parents moment. Apparently, the McAllisters are big-time benefactors of the hospital.”
    I nearly choke on my turkey sub. “Will they all be there?”
    “Relax. Devin’s out of town.”
    Thank God.
    “You’ll have to face him eventually, Cal.”
    “I know, but eventually doesn’t have to be tonight.”
    “Agreed. It’s a pretty special night to them, according to Owen. His parents have donated millions to the hospital, particularly to childhood leukemia research.”
    “That’s pretty specific. Wonder why?”
    “I don’t know, Lois Lane. That’d be a great question for the benefactor.”
    I grin. “You’re right, it would. Thanks, Lorie.”
    After we hang up, a pretty black dress arrives, and I get ready in record time. By five o’clock, I’m headed to the paper to grab my press pass. Frank barks last minute instructions as I race out