The Anti-Boyfriend

by Ward, Penelope

  He held out his hand. “No way. Everything’s on me.”

  “I can’t let you pay.”

  “Just consider it my apology for keeping you up last night.”

  “I need to pay for the diapers at least.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Seriously, I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. I won’t take it. So put your wallet back.”

  I was never good at accepting charity but conceded. “Well, thank you.”

  I took the first sip of the hot, foamy latte and closed my eyes. I moaned, perhaps a little too loudly.

  “You sound like something coming out of my bedroom last night.” He laughed.

  I nearly spit out the coffee.

  My face must have turned red too, because he added, “Too much?”

  “Actually, no. I appreciate you making light of the situation and not pegging me as the bitchy neighbor.” I took another sip of my coffee. “This is so good. I haven’t had one of these in a while.”

  “Any time you want one, if you can’t leave, just let me know. I’ll make a coffee run. It’s right down the street.”

  As tempting as that was, I wouldn’t be beckoning Deacon to fetch me coffee anytime soon. If there was one thing I hated, it was appearing needy.

  I squinted. “Why do you have to be so nice? It makes it hard to be annoyed at you.”

  “I didn’t realize being annoyed at me was a goal of yours.” He smiled and looked around. “Your daughter is still sleeping?”

  “Yeah. It’s been a couple of hours now—above average, though on occasion, she’ll go to about three. I’m loving it. It’s rare to get this long of a break.”

  “Well, I’d better not say monkey balls again. Otherwise you’ll start laughing and wake her up.”

  And now I was laughing again. I covered my mouth to dampen the sound. “Oh my God, that was so funny.”

  “Have I mentioned Mrs. Winsbanger loves me?” he asked. “She gives me the stink eye, too.”

  “Have you actually seen her? I normally just notice her door cracked open when she’s spying on people in the hallway. I think I’ve only seen her once or twice.”

  “One time I tried to help her carry some shit in, but she refused and gave me the dirtiest look. You would’ve thought I was trying to rob her. I was just trying to help.” He grabbed his phone. “Let me look it up.”

  “Look up what?”

  “Monkey balls. Maybe I’m missing something.” He typed something and scrolled. “According to this, monkey balls is slang for chafing that causes guys to walk like a monkey.” He looked up from his phone. “Well, shit. That doesn’t sound too pleasant.” He returned his eyes to the screen. “Oh! Look at this. Monkey balls are also an inedible fruit used for pest control. They ward off spiders.”

  “You learn something new every day.” I chuckled.

  “Thanks to Mrs. Winsbanger.” He rolled his eyes, putting his phone down.

  Gosh, my cheeks hurt. Having him here made me realize again how much I’d missed adult interaction.

  He took his drink out of the tray, and I noticed he had some ink on his left wrist, coming out from under his sleeve. I wondered how much of his arm was covered. Part of the ink was a word, but I couldn’t see it clearly aside from “hie” at the end. Was it a name? Ruthie? No clue.

  He had the biggest, most beautiful hands, too, with prominent veins and rough skin. Long fingers. Deacon was the epitome of masculinity. I forced my eyes away from admiring him, instead focusing on the writing on the side of the cup he held. He seemed to have ordered three shots of espresso straight, no milk. A strong drink to match a strong man.

  He noticed me looking at his cup. “They got my name wrong. They wrote Beekman. Who the fuck’s name is Beekman?”

  “My dad’s actually,” I said, forcing a straight face.

  “Are you serious?”

  Releasing my stoic expression, I shook my head. “No.”

  “Ah…Carys made a funny. Maybe she’s more than just the prude next door.”

  “Hey!” I laughed.

  He winked. “You know I’m kidding.”

  “Well, I can certainly relate to the name screw-up thing. Normally, they write Paris on mine, even though I sound out the C pretty clearly.”

  “That’s true, Carys-Like-Paris.”

  “Sometimes they write Karen.” I shrugged. “Happens all the time.”

  His eyes lingered on mine. “Carys is a unique name. I like it a lot.”

  There was something about the way this man looked at you when he spoke. He gave you every shred of his attention. His eyes were two giant spotlights on me that drowned out the rest of the world.

  Feeling my cheeks heat up, I said, “Thank you. It’s Welsh.”

  “Are you Welsh?”

  “My mother is half Welsh, yes.”

  “Well, it’s a beautiful name.”

  A shiver ran down my spine, as if he’d complimented me on something much more exciting than my name.

  My senses were having a field day between Deacon’s amazing scent and the delicious aroma of the espresso—two of my favorite smells blended together. But mostly my body was hyperaware of the gorgeous creature standing in front of me—one who’d made a woman scream in pleasure just last night.

  Deacon walked over to the corner of the room. I admired him as he examined the photos displayed on my shelves. Most of them were of Sunny, but he lifted one of me. I braced myself as he looked back and forth from the photo to where I was standing.

  “You were a ballet dancer?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I was…for several years. Not anymore, obviously.”

  “Professionally?”

  “Yes. I performed for The Manhattan Ballet as a principal dancer.”

  If I’d thought his stare was penetrating before, that was nothing compared to the way he looked at me now.

  “Wow.” He glanced back down at the photo. It showed me in an arabesque. He looked at it for longer than I was comfortable with. “Why did you stop?”

  I swallowed, not prepared for this discussion. “I had an injury, and it forced me to retire.” Saying the words aloud left a bitter taste in my mouth.

  He seemed to freeze, looking almost like it devastated him to hear what had happened to me. “I’m sorry. That had to have been hard to go through.”

  “It wasn’t easy.”

  Deacon stared at me, and with each second that passed, I felt a little more naked.

  “It was the hardest thing I’d been through up to that point,” I finally admitted.

  “What did you do…after? When you couldn’t dance anymore?”

  “I took a behind-the-scenes position with the company for a couple of years.”

  “What happened with that?”

  I shrugged. “Sunny happened.”

  “Ah.” He sighed and placed the frame back on the bookshelf. “Of course.”

  The fact that he seemed genuinely interested gave me a push to open up a bit more. “Well…Sunny happening is the short version, actually. The longer story is that I began a relationship with the director of the ballet. Charles is the son of the long-time owner. He’s in his position via nepotism. Charles was legally separated from his wife at the time I was working for him. He left me to go back to her, but not before I got pregnant.”

  “Shit,” Deacon said, taking a few steps toward me.

  “Yeah.” I exhaled. “Finding out about the baby didn’t change anything with us. And honestly, I wouldn’t have taken him back anyway. He had two kids already, and while he did tell his ex-wife—now wife again—about Sunny, he’s chosen not to tell his children about their half-sister. He asked me to keep his name off the birth certificate.”

  “He doesn’t support her at all?”

  “He gives me money under the table. It’s a minimal amount, but it helps. I take it because I’m not going to let pride get in the way of caring for my daughter.”

  “Well, that’s really sucky of him not to t
ake more responsibility.”

  “I’d honestly rather he not be in her life at this point. The only thing that feels worse than not having a father around is feeling rejected by the father you do see from time to time.”

  He examined my eyes. “You sound like you have personal experience with that.”

  Somehow this coffee run had turned into a therapy session. Deacon had a certain quality that made me feel like I could tell him anything, like he wouldn’t judge.

  “You would be correct,” I said. “My dad wasn’t around for me.” I shook my head and looked down. “Anyway, no need to get into my life story. You went for coffee. This is more than you bargained for.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m the one asking the questions. Sorry for being nosy.” He took a sip of his drink. “Anyway, I hope you don’t mind me saying, I’ve always been curious about you—your deal, what happened to your baby’s dad. It’s none of my business, but I did wonder.”

  I sighed. “Well, now you know.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled.

  Since he didn’t seem to be going anywhere, I decided to ask something I’d been curious about.

  “So, what about you? What’s your deal, Deacon? Are you from New York?”

  “No, actually. I’m from Minnesota originally. I came out to New York from California a few years back because I wanted a change. But I can work from anywhere.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I design interactive games for a company based out of Asia.”

  “That sounds so cool.”

  “Definitely not a career I could’ve predicted, but it’s fun. Our app is very popular, and it does well. So that gives me a little job security in the otherwise unpredictable field of entertainment.”

  “So you never have to go into an office?”

  “I work from home the majority of the time. Only have to go to the company’s New York office occasionally for meetings. Their headquarters are in Japan.”

  “That’s a great situation.”

  “It is. But sometimes it’s hard to get your shit together at home. I get distracted a lot.”

  “Yeah. I think I might have heard one of those distractions during the afternoon once.” I winked.

  “Ouch.” He grimaced. “And here I was, thinking I’d done a good job distracting from your initial impression of me.” He formed his fingers into an L for loser over his forehead. “Fail.”

  I laughed. “Just teasing.” It amazed me how fast I’d grown comfortable around him. I enjoyed his company.

  “Anyway,” he said. “The good thing about working remotely is that I can work at all hours. So if I’m goofing off during the day, I get my shit done at night.”

  “It’s awesome to have flexibility like that. I’m trying to find a similar type job as we speak. Know of anyone hiring?”

  “Not off the top of my head, but I can keep an ear out. What kind of work are you looking for?”

  “Well, my experience is pretty much administrative work. So, maybe like a virtual assistant? But I’m open to something new. I have a degree in general studies, but I spent so many years focused on ballet that my resume is limited, aside from the couple of years I worked behind the scenes. I assumed for so long that dancing would be my career.”

  “Of course.” He nodded. “That makes sense.”

  I fiddled with the green stopper that had come with my latte. “Not having a job has been fine for a while. I always planned to stay home with Sunny initially, but I think it would be good for my mental health to get out of the house a couple of days a week or find something I can do from home. It’s hard to find the perfect situation. But I definitely don’t want to leave her five days a week.”

  Deacon let out an exasperated breath, seeming almost overwhelmed. “A kid changes everything, huh?”

  “Yeah. It really does. These six months have gone by in a blur. I feel like I’ve been in my own world. But I wouldn’t trade it. My daughter is everything.”

  “Well, for what it’s worth, from the little I’ve witnessed, I think you’re doing a great job. She seems like a happy baby. You’re a good mom.”

  His words made my heart flutter. I don’t think anyone had ever said that to me before. And as much as I knew I was trying my hardest every day, it was nice to hear someone acknowledge it.

  “Thank you, Deacon. You’re very sweet.”

  “I don’t hear that too often, but okay.”

  Our eyes locked. Then he suddenly looked down at his phone. “Anyway, I’ll let you enjoy the last of your quiet time before she wakes up.”

  I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to leave. Instead, I said, “I’m glad you got to know me a little today—so you know I’m more than just the cranky, cockblocking neighbor.”

  “And hopefully you see me as more than just the manwhore next door.”

  “Not quite yet.” I winked. “But we’re getting there.”

  He chuckled. “Take care, Carys. And if you need anything from the outside world, just say the word.”

  My brow lifted. “What’s the word?”

  He scratched his chin. “That would have to be…monkey balls.”

  I cackled. “Ah. The perfect choice.”

  As he headed to his apartment, I called after him, “Thanks again for the diapers and coffee.”

  He turned around to face me, walking backwards and flashing a gorgeous smile that made my heart ache a little. “Diapers and coffee. Can’t say I’ve ever been thanked for that combination before.” He winked. “My pleasure.”

  After I closed the door, I leaned back against it, catching myself mid-swoon.

  Really, Carys? You’re pathetic.

  Don’t even go there. He wouldn’t touch this situation with a ten-foot pole. Leave it to my starving heart to take a man’s charitable gesture and turn it into the beginning of some unrealistic romance.

  After I polished off the rest of my coffee, I opened up the bag of diapers he’d brought.

  There was more than just the package of Luv’s inside.

  He’d thrown in a little stuffed Peppa Pig.

  And some earplugs.

  CHAPTER 2

  Carys

  BABY WHISPERER

  A couple of weeks later, Sunny had a pediatrician appointment downtown late in the afternoon. Since we were out and about anyway, I took her to meet my friend Simone for an early dinner at a restaurant near the doctor’s office.

  “How did her appointment go?” Simone asked as she perused the laminated card that listed today’s specials.

  “Six-month checkup went great. The doctor says her weight is right on target for her age.”

  “I’m so glad.” She looked up from the menu. “And how are you?”

  I paused, momentarily stumped as to how to answer that. “Good…good.”

  There was no point in venting about my day-to-day problems. Simone and I were in two different places in life, and she likely wouldn’t understand. As one of the city’s top ballet dancers, Simone was where I would have been had I not been injured: an elite principal dancer, performing at night, sleeping in most mornings, and attending rehearsals in the afternoons, in addition to having an active social life. In many ways, I lived vicariously through her. So, instead of admitting that most days I felt lonely or worried about my finances, I just responded with good.

  “Have you been taking care of yourself?” she asked.

  “You mean like…self-care?”

  “Yeah. Taking time for yourself.”

  I looked over at Sunny, who was sitting up in the highchair. Her cheeks were flushed, likely from the vaccine she’d just received. The doctor had warned me she might get a bit feverish.

  I placed my hand on her forehead. “I rest when she rests, but I haven’t had a chance to go out much or, you know, get a massage or some crap like that. There’s just no time.”

  Our food arrived, and Simone’s questions stopped for a bit as we shoveled in our burgers and fries.

  “Are you thinking
of going back to work at some point?” she asked suddenly.

  Wiping the ketchup off the side of my mouth, I answered. “If I can find someone I trust to watch Sunny. But then I’d have to weigh the cost versus benefit.”

  “It’s too bad your mom isn’t closer.”

  What a joke. “Well, not sure she’d be able to handle it anyway.”

  I loved my mother, but she wasn’t capable of taking care of Sunny. She’d had my brother and me pretty young, and had told me she was done raising kids and now was her time to enjoy life. She’d moved from where I grew up in New Jersey to Florida a few years ago. She’d made her position clear to me the couple of times I’d hinted that I’d appreciate it if she visited more.

  Simone jumped in her seat a little, looking like she’d had a lightbulb moment. “You know, Cynthia was telling me they’re looking to hire a new PR person. I wonder if she’d consider you for the job. I mean, you know the ins and outs of the ballet. You’re attractive—when you’re not in your mom uniform—and you’re personable. I bet you could do a lot of it from home, writing press releases and such. You’d probably only have to go into the office occasionally or show up for special events.”

  Simone performed for a different ballet company than I had. While I’d never consider going back to work for my old company—since Sunny’s estranged father was still the director—a job at a competitor would be ideal.

  I perked up at her suggestion. “Really? You think she’d consider me?”

  “She’s always talking about how much she admires you. And don’t take this the wrong way, but we talk about how much of a shame it is that you were injured in the prime of your career. You’re legendary in many ways. Everyone wonders what could have been if Carys Kincaid hadn’t been taken out.”

  I felt her words deep in my soul. The agony over never being able to perform professionally again was something I tried to suppress.

  “I’d rather still be dancing than be a legend, but it’s nice to know I’m respected posthumously.”

  “Posthumously? You’re not dead, Carys!”

  “I know, but in the ballet world, I might as well be.”

  “Look at it this way, if it weren’t for your accident, you’d still be dancing, but you might never have gotten close to Charles, and Sunny would never have come to be. As much as we hate Charles now, he brought you Sunny. Everything happens for a reason.”