Amber narrows her eyes as she looks at me. Her mouth pulls down into a small frown. It’s the look she gets when she’s trying to figure something out. She’s always been perceptive as hell, and I can tell she’s caught a sniff of something that she’s trying to put her finger on. It’s then I realize so much has happened lately, and I haven’t had a chance to tell her about any of it.
There’s more to the story than she knows that’s contributing to my current frazzled state. Not that learning you’re unexpectedly pregnant isn’t something to freak out about, but I’m normally a lot calmer and more rational about things. I’m usually not this – all over the place. But then, it’s not like I have a guidebook on how to react when my entire world is blowing up around me.
I take a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then launch into the story. I tell Amber everything from finding out that we’re married, to our conversations about it, to the feeling of safety and security I feel with him. I also tell her about my fears that this is going to tear down everything we’ve built up.
Through it all, she just sits there drinking her coffee and listening, nodding along and absorbing everything I’m saying. When I’m finally finished, she sets her coffee mug down and lets out a low whistle.
“What do you think?” I ask nervously.
She grins. “I think that I’m a little pissed I never got to throw you a bachelorette party.”
I laugh despite myself, and the cloud of gloom and doom that’s been hovering over me lifts just a little. Like Braxton, Amber can always manage to get a smile out of me even in the most inappropriate of circumstances.
“Wow, babe. Married,” she whistles. “That’s a mind-blower.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You’re a woman with many secrets.”
“Secrets so dark and deep, I don’t even know about them apparently,” I add.
Amber laughs softly. I can see her trying to wrap her mind around all of it – something that’s not particularly easy to do. She gives me a gentle smile and an encouraging nod of the head.
“I know this seems overwhelming –”
“Yeah, just a bit. I feel like I can’t breathe right now,” I cut her off.
“That’s understandable. Your entire life has shifted in the span of a couple of months,” she adds. “And it’s shifted hard.”
“It’s like everything I thought I knew has changed, and the rug’s been pulled out from under my feet,” I shake my head. “And I don’t know what to do about any of it.”
“Well, you can either let it overwhelm you, or you can take charge of it.” Her voice is firm. “The way I see things, it all boils down to just a couple of things – everything else is extraneous and is doing nothing but blowing it all out of proportion.”
“A couple of things?”
She nods. “Yes. First of all, you have to decide what to do about your marriage,” she begins. “And the second thing is that you – and Braxton – need to decide what to do about the baby. That’s it. Once you have those two things decided, I think you’ll find that everything else falls into place.”
Given the massive emotional turmoil and upheaval I’m feeling right now, it seems absurd that everything comes down to those two decisions. But then, my head is so cluttered with debris from my emotional explosion this morning that I’m not able to see things as clearly as I normally would. I do my best to drown out all that noise, and as I turn it over in my head and focus on the logical rather than the emotional, I can see that maybe she has a point.
“If Braxton is half the man you believe he is, and is as committed to you as you think,” Amber continues, “he’s going to be overjoyed, babe. He’ll see this as good news.”
I sigh. “And if he’s not? Or if I’ve overestimated his level of commitment?” I ask. “Or if he’s not ready to be a father? Or if he just flat out doesn’t want kids?”
She purses her lips and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think at the very least; he’s the kind of man who will make sure his child is well taken care of.”
I give her a small nod. Yeah, I don’t think my reading of the kind of man Braxton has become is so far off that he’d be the deadbeat dad type. I think she’s right – as is my gut feeling about him – that no matter what happens between us, that he’d take care of his responsibilities to his child. As I think about it, I realized that much I’m not so concerned with.
What really concerns me is when I drop this bomb on him, what happens between us?
Chapter Thirty-Three
Braxton
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask. “You still look a little green around the gills to me.”
A nervous smile touches her lips. “The doctor said she’s one hundred percent certain my issue isn’t contagious,” she says. “I don’t have the flu.”
I shrug. “Well, that’s good news then. But what’s wrong?” I press. “I can tell that something’s not right with you.”
There’s a sour look on her face – one that says she’s on the verge of throwing up and is just barely hanging on. We’re sitting in the bar called Out of Bounds, a little sports bar on a small side street near the office. I was surprised that Chloe had called me to have a drink, given how sick she’s been lately. But she sounded tense on the phone and said she really needed to talk, so I met her here.
The bar is a generic sports bar – team pennants and jerseys all over the walls, flat screen TV’s everywhere, and a very rah-rah atmosphere. The waitresses are all wearing cheerleading outfits, and the bartenders are in black-and-white striped referee outfits.
“You sure you don’t want something stronger than club soda?” I ask. “Maybe an appetizer or something?”
She shakes her head and puts her hand on her stomach as if the thought of putting anything in her stomach makes her physically ill. There’s something that’s not right with her, but her face is unreadable to me right now. I can’t figure out what it is that’s rattling around in that head of hers. And so far, getting anything out of her is like pulling teeth. It seems like all I can do is guess and hope I hit the mark at some point.
“If you’re stressed out about work, we have it covered,” I tell her. “We can hold down the fort until you’re well enough to come back.”
She shakes her head; her face etched with something that looks like fear. It makes me wonder what’s going on with her and what she’s so scared of. It also worries me. Having to guess what’s going on in her head leads me down a lot of dark paths in my own mind. I love Chloe and want to be with her, and there’s a small part of me suddenly wondering if she still feels the same.
“No, it’s not work,” she says cryptically. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”
The knot in my belly tightens almost painfully as I look at her, a million different thoughts going through my head – and not a single one of them good. The way she makes me feel is unnerving beyond words. Insecurity and jealousy are things that are uncommon to me. I’m not somebody who ever feels uncertainty or doubt. I don’t second guess myself. Especially when it comes to women.
But Chloe has come into my life and turned my entire world upside down. She’s shifted the paradigm of my entire existence. She makes me feel things nobody’s ever made me feel before. She’s made me feel more deeply than I’ve ever felt for anybody before. Deeper than I ever thought I could. For the longest time, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life alone. Oh, I would have spent my time with women. I would have enjoyed them physically, but I never would have given myself to them emotionally. I would have been alone my entire life.
But then Hurricane Chloe comes storming in, and suddenly, the future course of my life looks a lot different. For the first time, I can see myself living the rest of my life with one person. Happy. Content. When I think of growing old now, I don’t see myself growing old alone. I see myself with Chloe by my side. It would be a life filled with more possibilities than I can even start to think of right now. And for the fir
st time in my life, I’m looking forward to the future. I’m excited about it. I feel like it’s actually within my grasp.
And yet, as I sit here looking at her, seeing the worry and fear on her face, I feel like that future is balanced on a razor’s edge. As long as we walk the straight and narrow path, we’ll be fine. But tip too far to one side or the other, and it all comes down in a flaming ruin.
I don’t know what’s going through her head, but I am bound and determined to keep us on the straight and narrow. I’m not going to let this come crashing down around our ears. Whatever is going on with her, and whatever the problem might be, we can handle it. Together.
“So talk to me,” I urge. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”
Chloe chews on her bottom lip, a myriad of emotions swirling across her face. She opens her mouth to speak but then closes it again. She lowers her eyes and looks down at the table, picking at imaginary pieces of lint on her napkin.
“Whatever it is, we can handle it, Chloe.”
“I’m pregnant, Braxton,” she blurts out without preamble. “I – I’m pregnant.”
I sit back in my seat, feeling like I just got sucker-punched. I’m having trouble catching my breath, and a million sudden thoughts rattle my brain. I look at Chloe, a thousand different emotions raining down on me all at the same time. She’s looking at me with that fear in her eyes, and I know I need to say something to reassure her. But I don’t know how to reassure her when I don’t know what it is I’m feeling myself.
“That – that was not what I was expecting to hear,” I admit.
The ghost of a smile touches her lips. “It wasn’t what I was expecting to say,” she says. “Believe me; I’m just as surprised by this as you are.”
We sit in silence for a moment, each of us contemplating the tabletop in front of us. The silence between us is tense, awkward, and thick with expectation. But as I turn it over in my head and the shock of the initial moment starts to fade, I start to see it differently.
“I – I mean, if you don’t want to be a part of our lives, I understand. I understand if you don’t think a baby fits into your world, and I don’t blame you,” she stammers. “I just thought you should know. Thought you’d want to know.”
A baby will irrevocably change my life. There’s no question about it. But I think it’ll change it for the better – just like Chloe has. It’s another step toward the dream life I’d constructed in my head so long ago. I remember being younger and dreaming of having a family of my own. There was a time when that was all I ever wanted. I think that’s one of the biggest differences between me and some of my other friends – I wasn’t just out for the pussy. I always wanted the sort of stability a life centered around a wife and a family would give me.
It was a dream I’d given up a long time ago. But now here it is, something I thought I’d never have within my grasp. All I need to do is reach out and take it. The feeling is absolutely surreal.
“A – are you going to say something?” she asks, a nervous quaver in her voice.
I open my mouth to reply but can’t seem to find the words. Instead, a wide smile crosses my face, and my heart fills with emotions I’ve never felt before. It feels like puzzle pieces I never even knew were missing are falling into place, and the joy that fills my heart is unlike anything I’ve ever known.
“B – Braxton?”
Reaching across the table, I take her hands in mine and squeeze them tight. With every ounce of love I can muster, I look her in the eye, trying to convey my excitement through my gaze.
“I can’t possibly be any happier, Chloe.”
She recoils like I just threw a bucket of cold water onto her and looks at me, her face painted with pure and utter shock.
“Really?” she asks, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“Yes,” I nod, “really. I love you, Chloe, and the thought of spending the rest of my life with you, raising a family – I can’t even begin to describe how happy it makes me.”
Chloe’s eyes redden and well with tears as a laugh bubbles up and out of her. She pulls her hands away and puts them over her mouth as the tears start to roll down her face.
“I was not expecting this but – I love the idea of raising a family with you, Chloe,” I tell her.
I get up and walk to her side of the table, wrapping my arms around her from behind. I plant a kiss on her forehead and squeeze her tight.
“I was so scared to tell you,” she whispers. “I didn’t know how you felt about having a baby.”
I laugh wryly, softy wiping away her tears and giving her a peck on the cheek. “I honestly didn’t know how I felt about having a baby until right now,” I admit. “And it makes me the happiest man alive.”
We spend the next hour talking and laughing as we map out our future together. As those plans start falling into place, for the first time ever, I feel like my life is on the right path. It makes me feel like all of the shit I’ve gone through – all of the unhappiness, misery, and loneliness – has all been leading me to this point.
I feel like celebrating tonight, but she’s still feeling sick, so we decide to cut our evening short. The evening crowd is starting to filter into the bar. Loud laughter and louder voices start to take over as people already half-drunk or looking to get drunk start filling the place up. Chloe takes my arm as we head for the exit and leans her head on my shoulder. My head is still spinning with disbelief, but I’m deliriously happy and can’t wait to start bringing the plans we made to fruition.
“Shit,” I mutter as we walk through the lobby. “I forgot my keys back at the table. Wait right here; I’ll run back and get them.”
I turn and hustle back to our table, having to squeeze between the people who have zero consideration for others are beginning to crowd the aisles like they own the damn place. The busboy is clearing off our table when I get there, and he hands me my keys with a grin.
“Thanks,” I say.
He nods, and I turn, heading back to the lobby where I left Chloe waiting for me. As I push my way through a small knot of people, I find Chloe penned in between two guys who look like they just came out of redneck central casting. One guy is in overalls with a black t-shirt on and has a thick, bushy beard, and the other is in dirty and dingy blue jeans with a white t-shirt and is sporting a goatee that’s more white than black. Both have belt buckles the size of license plates on, worn, dusty boots, and long, stringy hair. They’re largish, though in the sense of former high school football stars who’ve gone soft, rather than guys who work out and stay in shape.
The pair of them are bracketing Chloe, and she’s shrinking back, obviously very uncomfortable. I can’t hear what they’re saying to her, from where I am, but judging by the look on her face, I can probably guess the gist of it.
As I approach them, I feel my blood boiling as the rage in me builds. Chloe is backing away but catches sight of me, and I see her face blanch.
“Braxton, no,” she warns when she sees my face. “No, wait. Stop, Braxton.”
I hear the note of warning in her voice and recall what happened last time I had a confrontation in her presence. But it seems like a distant memory, and Chloe’s voice sounds like it’s coming to me from the other end of a long tunnel. I’m so focused on the two cretins surrounding her that everything else is just fading away around me.
I see her trying to push past them, but when they notice me coming, the two rednecks turn and stand in front of her – as if they’re protecting her from me.
“What’s your problem, pretty boy?” the beard asks. “We’re takin’ care of her. Don’t you worry ‘bout that.”
“Yeah, it’s all good, son,” says the goatee. “Just walk on now. We’re just buyin’ the little lady a drink.
“Get away from her,” I growl, my voice low. “Now.”
Goatee steps forward, his eyes narrowed in his porcine face. “We said she’s good,” he snarls. “Now fuck off.”
Chloe darts out from around the pair
of them and steps in front of me, planting her hands on my chest. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and pleading. The people filtering into the bar apparently sense the rising tension and give us a wide berth, dozens of eyes on us, many of them no doubt hoping to see a good fight and some bloodshed.
“Please, Braxton. You told me you’d work on your temper. You promised me,” she begs. “Please don’t do this.”
“Yeah, Braxton,” the beard sneers. “You promised.”
The two rednecks guffaw and slap each other on the back like they scored major points or something. Chloe casts a quick, dark look behind her, but then focuses on me again, her eyes absolutely earnest.
“Ignore them,” she urges. “Please walk out the door with me right now.”
My blood is up, and a dark anger flows through my veins as I stare at the two men, but Chloe’s voice echoes through my mind. I see the look of desperation in her eyes and recall the look of disgust she had the last time. It’s a look I never want to see her direct at me ever again.
It’s with the memory of that expression of disappointment that was so cutting, combined with what she’d said to me the last time I lost my temper, that has me starting to turn away from the two men. They groan in protest and hurl insults at me, which I do a good job of ignoring. I take deep breaths, trying to control myself, trying to turn away and just ignore this.
But when one of them reaches out and roughly slaps Chloe on the ass, my tenuous grip on my anger snaps.
Everything seems to slow down, and the world around me grows dark. It’s like I’m in a tunnel. Aside from the look of shock tinged with outrage on Chloe’s face at being handled like that, all I see are the two assholes in front of me. As if from a great distance, I hear Chloe’s voice, but I have no idea what she’s saying – it’s faint and garbled. And my fist, like it’s moving of its own accord, is slashing forward. I feel the impact with the bearded man’s jaw radiate up through my arm and shoulder and feel the feral grin crossing my face as he drops to the ground like a proverbial sack of laundry and is still – out cold.
Boss Next Door Page 28