Cheater's Regret

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “This is perfect.” Austin sighed. “All of it.”

  And it was.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  THATCH

  I was too excited to sleep.

  By the time eight a.m. rolled around, Austin was still sleeping, and I was trying to make coffee without dropping cups and running into walls. I was dead on my feet and so thankful I had taken the day off.

  With a yawn, I was just getting ready to grind some coffee when a hard knock sounded at my door.

  I knew that knock.

  Just like I knew who would be on the other side.

  And suddenly the tension was back in my shoulders as I rigidly made my way toward the door and opened it, expecting to see the usual—my father, red-rimmed eyes, swaying unsteadily on his feet, smelling like whiskey, and shouting about how my mom and I ruined his life.

  Instead, I found my dad.

  Completely.

  Stone-cold.

  Sober.

  Showered.

  Dressed.

  He looked like the dad I remembered. His hands shook as he held out a newspaper and pointed at it. “You did this?”

  Shit.

  “Yeah.” I swallowed the guilt and pushed it away completely. “It needed to be done.”

  “Closure,” he said after a few minutes. “I finally feel like we have closure. I thought—” His eyes watered. “I was so angry for so long. I pushed for the divorce and settlement, thinking it would make her realize how much she needed me, needed us. Then I thought if I protected her, she’d come back, she’d see that I didn’t expose her, that I was better for her and that he was using her.” He choked on a sob and then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”

  “It is,” I whispered. “It’s finally out in the open.”

  “I shouldn’t have cheated on her. I loved her. I was . . .” He locked eyes with me. “Thatch, I’m a weak man. I can’t promise to be better, but I’m going to try.”

  “Care to start now?” a soft voice said from behind me.

  Austin looked gorgeous in a soft white silk robe and her pin-striped shorts with one of my old V-neck shirts just barely covering her breasts.

  My dad nodded and then spoke a simple “Yes.”

  “We’re pregnant,” she said immediately. “You’re . . .” Her eyes glowed. “You’re going to be a grandpa.”

  I’d never seen my dad cry. But the old man broke, there was no other way to put it, as he fell to his knees and sobbed.

  Maybe because the situation was so close to him.

  A family.

  One that wasn’t broken, but was getting a fresh start.

  And me, a carbon copy of him, so close to the man he could have been.

  The father he could have been.

  When he wiped his tears, he got to his feet and asked, “If—if I get better, would it be possible to help deliver your baby?”

  “Of course,” I said without asking Austin. I knew she wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “I think we’ll have to ask the hospital, though, just to make sure.” Austin smiled brightly.

  My dad let out a low chuckle.

  I followed.

  And then we were both laughing.

  I’d forgotten how private I’d kept my life, from everyone, but especially from her.

  “Baby, you’re looking at the former surgical director of neonatal research at UW—there’s a wing dedicated to my dad at the U hospital. He retired last year.”

  Austin’s jaw dropped. “You’re, but you’re—”

  “It was a rough year,” my dad finally said, then mumbled, “Hell, it was a rough ten years. But I could deliver a baby with my eyes closed.” He glanced at me. “Then again, so could Thatch. The only reason he went into plastics was to piss me off.”

  “Partial truth,” I corrected. “I like plastics. It’s always interesting, and I’m not owned by my job the same way you were.”

  “And you like pissing me off.” The old man wrapped an arm around Austin. “He was at the top of his class at UW, primed and ready to go into neonatal just like his old man, but one day he came home, and all you need to know is, I think what he saw pushed him over the edge . . .” My dad’s voice softened. “Well, it was just as much my fault as his mother’s that he wanted nothing to do with us.”

  Austin listened while I went to make the coffee I had started brewing before we were interrupted.

  I don’t even know how long they talked.

  But when my dad finally left, saying that he needed to go think, it was close to noon.

  “So?” Austin’s eyebrows shot up. “Where do you want to start?”

  I sighed and leaned back against the couch. “I didn’t want to take his money. It felt like hush money or something you give someone instead of love because it’s easier, which is horrible, right? It was easier for him to write a check than give me what I’d always wanted, a hug, a high five, anything that said he was proud of me, or that he cared. But he was so stuck in his own misery, and I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps because his being a cheater was what destroyed my mom, our family. I just—I wanted something different.”

  “You wanted boobs,” Austin said in a serious voice. “Admit it.”

  I burst out laughing. “Yes, Austin, I wanted tits, and to think all this time, I would have been satisfied with just yours! Would have saved me a lot of money.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be just fine.” She winked.

  I tugged her foot and pulled her over to my side of the couch. “Maybe, but I should probably take a look at them just in case. You know, nipples can be very sensitive during pregnancy. I would hate for you to . . . suffer in silence.”

  “I’m not suffering.”

  “I think I see a tear.” I ignored her. “Baby, just let me take care of you.”

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “Acting out is another symptom of nipple tenderness, it’s in the manual.”

  “Hmm, is it right next to a picture of Enrique?”

  “Low blow!” I started tickling her.

  She started singing at the top of her lungs, and I silenced her with a deep kiss. “Are you going to kiss away my pain?” she belted out the second I drew back.

  I pressed my hand across her mouth. “That’s enough.”

  Naturally, she just kept singing against my fingertips.

  “Want a MoonPie?”

  She stopped singing and then narrowed her eyes and gave me a thumbs-down when I pulled my hand away. “Well played, fiancé, well played.”

  Fiancé.

  I grinned so huge, I probably looked terrifying.

  Austin crawled into my lap and straddled me with a knee on each side of my body. “You sure look pleased with yourself.”

  “I’m seventy percent pleased.”

  She frowned. “Why only seventy percent?”

  I ran my hands up and down her sides, then very slowly started peeling down her little shorts until my thumbs reached her hips. “I think you know why.”

  “Nope. No idea.”

  “You’re killing me here.” I moved my hands beneath her shirt and groaned when I came into contact with her breasts. Perfect. So damn perfect.

  Her moan joined mine as she ground against my erection.

  “Fine, you win.” She peeled her shirt over her head and then stood and tugged her shorts down.

  “Wow.” I stood, already jerkily removing my clothes. “That was easy.”

  “Yeah, well.” She lifted a shoulder. “I know how much you like to see tits, remember? I figure if you’re always looking at mine, when you touch others, it will be like feeling up a nice old grandma.”

  “Let’s leave grandma talk out of naked time, yeah?”

  She nodded and then crooked her finger at me. “You know, I think your dad’s going to be okay.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, glancing at her stomach. “I think so too.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  AUSTIN

  H
is mouth.

  Why would I ever want a job?

  Sex with Thatch. That was my new job title.

  He was probably just trying to distract me from watching the news, since my dad’s face was all over it right along with his mom’s.

  Every time I tried to reach for the remote, he slapped my hand away and started kissing me.

  “Focus on us. Focus on this,” he’d say over and over again, loving me with his mouth, holding me, touching my stomach. So I listened.

  But it was time.

  And it was like we both knew we needed to face it, to watch the news and see what happened once the story hit.

  I grabbed Thatch’s hand and rose from the bed, leading him out into the living room and pointing at the remote.

  “They’re still our parents,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, they are,” he echoed, and then hit the power button.

  It was breaking news alright.

  But it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought.

  I mean, it wasn’t like he was guilty of embezzlement. Speculation said that the affair had been going on for years.

  I knew the truth, just like Thatch, but it wasn’t our place to correct anyone. There were several pictures of his mother and my father together.

  And it made me sick to my stomach when, in one of them, he was kissing her on the mouth and laughing.

  That could have been Mom.

  We should have had a happy family.

  He broke that.

  And for what?

  I still didn’t get it.

  “Why?”

  I didn’t realize I had said it out loud until Thatch hit “Mute” on the remote and grabbed me by the hands.

  “Sometimes people do stupid things, make the wrong choice out of boredom, revenge, pride.” He shrugged. “You may never know why, and I know that kills you, because when I broke us—” I opened my mouth to correct him, but he shook his head. “When I broke us, I didn’t tell you why—I thought I was protecting you, now I know the truth. You may never know the truth about my mom and your dad, but know this—you won’t ever be cheated on again.”

  Tears welled in my eyes. “I know.”

  “I’m serious, Austin.” His grip was firm, solid on my fingertips. “I will never cheat on you. I want this relationship to be one of communication, I want a real family. I want love.”

  “Me too.” I nodded. “And I promise, I won’t ever cheat on you.”

  He sighed.

  “Unless cheating means I can beat you at board games, or if we race and I trip you beforehand, or if I cheat with calories on a non-cheat day, or—”

  He kissed me.

  I giggled against his solid chest.

  “I love you,” he murmured, “and I always will.”

  “Good, because you’re stuck with us.”

  “Thank God,” he whispered reverently before kissing me again. And then once again, helping me remember why we were so good together. Because our love was shared equally, because it wasn’t about obsession, or even lust, but about that very real thing that was shared between two people who got it. Who understood the sacrifice it took for something to work—and were willing to make it.

  We were cheated.

  But we weren’t cheaters.

  And it felt good to say it.

  Epilogue

  AUSTIN

  “You’re doing so well.” My father-in-law winked at me and moved around the bed to grab my hand. “How are you feeling?”

  “Oh, you know.” I clenched my teeth. “Like I’m giving birth to a ten-pound gorilla, but other than that, splendid. Hey, where are we on those drugs?”

  He grinned, and his expression reminded me so much of Thatch.

  Over the past few months, father and son had mended their relationship so much that we had family dinner nights, and he’d even paid off every cent of Thatch’s student loans so we could start fresh. The divorce settlement had gone through, and the very first thing his father wanted to do with his money was take care of us.

  Thatch said no.

  But his father said it was necessary, and said if we didn’t take the money, he’d just set up a trust fund for the little boy we were about to have.

  So Thatch took it, and later that night, cried in my arms.

  Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars’ worth of loans.

  Gone.

  Forgiven.

  Funny how the minute he was able to forgive both his mom and dad—his dad was able to forgive himself.

  “Ahhhh!” I shrieked as my belly tightened and a giant invisible vise squeezed me like a tube of toothpaste. “This isn’t natural!”

  Thatch was calm.

  He would be calm.

  Weren’t dads supposed to pass out?

  “STOP BEING SUCH A DOCTOR!” I snapped at him when he was ducking his head under the sheet and discussing God-knew-what about places that should never be discussed or looked at by a father-in-law and sexy husband!

  “The drugs are here!” Avery announced.

  Lucas chose to wait in the waiting room.

  Smart man.

  Avery held out a MoonPie. “You can have this once you push super hard.”

  “I hate you, I hate you so much.”

  She dangled the MoonPie in front of me.

  “No solids!” The elder Dr. Holloway wagged his finger at me.

  I flipped him off in response.

  Thatch burst out laughing. “You okay, baby?”

  “You’re never touching me again. I’m joining a nunnery, how’s that for okay?”

  “You’re just in a lot of pain.”

  He nodded toward the door as another man in scrubs walked in and said, “Someone need an epidural?”

  “ME! Yes! I volunteer!” I shouted as Avery, watching me, winced when another contraction hit.

  I reached for her hand and grabbed the MoonPie by accident, smashing it into tiny bits before dropping it on the floor.

  “No! My MoonPie!”

  “I have more.” Avery patted my shoulder. “So, you good here? I think I’m just going to go . . . back to my husband and . . . pray . . . for you! Not for me. I’m fine.”

  She wasn’t fine. She was twelve weeks pregnant.

  “This is your future!” I yelled after her.

  “Austin,” Thatch snapped. “Is that really necessary?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, is THIS necessary!” I pointed at my belly and made a face.

  He smirked. “I love it when you’re feisty.”

  “Get it out!” I said with a snarl. “It hurts.”

  “Drugs.” Thatch kissed my forehead, my utter weakness, and then nodded to a doctor who looked too young to be holding a needle so big.

  “Hi, Austin. My name’s Ben. I’m going to make this feel like a cake walk, alright?”

  I sniffled. “I really like cake.”

  “Great.” He winked. “Now, turn on your side and grab your knees and hold still. The minute your next contraction hits, I want you to take a few deep breaths, and once it ends, I’m going to put in the epidural.

  “Okay? You’ll feel a slight sharp pain and then some pressure and we’ll be all done. You can’t move though.”

  I nodded. I was sweating and freaking out. I hated needles.

  Thatch was immediately on the other side of the bed. “Let’s just fight through this next one together, alright?”

  I couldn’t speak; the contractions were getting worse. I clenched my eyes shut and waited for the torture to end.

  And then I heard Ben’s voice. “That was a big one. Alright, let’s go.”

  I tried not to tense, but like I said, the needle was huge and it was getting placed in my spine, of all places. Already woozy, I waited for my legs to go numb and was pleasantly surprised when the pain started to dissipate and, within five minutes, went away altogether.

  “It’s a miracle!” I could talk and function like a normal human being. “What’s in that thing?”

  “Fentanyl,” Tha
tch answered with a smirk. “There’s no chance in hell you should feel any pain, and if you do, just click this handy little button but not too often, ’kay?”

  He handed me a magic button.

  And suddenly I felt powerful again.

  And like myself.

  “I’m going to rock this.” I nodded.

  Thatch rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say she’s got drugs in her system, since a few minutes ago she was flipping everyone off.”

  His dad smiled, and they started chatting about the football game while I was busy trying to figure out why the little guy hadn’t decided to make an appearance yet.

  A half hour went by.

  And then a full hour.

  I was restless, reading a magazine, when Thatch’s dad checked me again and smiled. “You ready?”

  I knew everyone was restless, and eager to see the baby. My mom was in the waiting room with everyone else, most likely pacing away the carpet.

  “YES!” I threw the magazine on the floor and waited. “Do I push now or—”

  “Patience.” He chuckled. “We don’t want to stress the baby.” He glanced at the monitor. “At the height of each contraction, I want you to grab behind your knees and use that to help you push from your stomach, alright?”

  I nodded.

  And during the next contraction, I pushed as hard as I could.

  Thatch was on the right side of the sheet, holding my hand and squeezing with each push.

  “Two more and I think we got it. You’re born to do this, Austin.”

  “I am,” I said more to reassure myself. “I am. I’ve got this.”

  “Love you.” Thatch squeezed my hand tighter as I pushed again.

  “I see baby’s head,” Dr. Holloway said hoarsely. “One more, honey.”

  I pushed again.

  And then all the pressure was gone.

  And a warm, wailing, tiny, wrinkly little thing was placed on my chest.

  I burst into tears.

  Thatch was already there, helping the nurse clean up the little guy while his dad did whatever he was supposed to be doing down there.

  “This is going to hurt a bit.” He looked up. “We need to get all the fluids out along with the embryonic sac. You ready?”

  I nodded and held my baby tight while he pushed down on my stomach. I was seriously going to puke if he didn’t stop soon.