“Nyxie,” I hear mom’s voice. “Are you okay? Octavio, bring something to clean her, a wet washcloth, and a slice of lemon.”
“Ziplining isn’t for the weak of…stomach? I bet it’s the adrenaline. I might be allergic to it,” I keep saying nonsense while Mom rubs my back.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispers.
“I’m fine,” I assure her, but really, I’m not. My stomach isn’t upset, it’s actually raging. I can’t even straighten up because I feel super lightheaded.
“You have an ulcer,” she states, she continues drawing circles on my back and then places a wet washcloth on my neck. “How many times do I have to tell you that not eating is going to make you sick.”
Mom and Dad are like a real life WebMD. With only a couple of symptoms, they are already diagnosing me with some obscure or incurable disease.
“Promise me that if you continue like this, you’ll go to the doctor on Monday,” she says, handing me a napkin and a lemon. “Suck on that after you wipe your mouth. It should help you. If not, we should give you a teaspoon of baking soda with ginger and honey.”
Great, home remedies for my ulcer.
“What happened?” Dad asks.
“She went ziplining with Eros and Ford’s brother,” Mom answers. “I think she has something in the stomach.”
“His name is Nate, and I can’t believe you two were having sex. You could’ve stopped when he rang the bell,” I argue.
“I didn’t think he’d be opening the door when I said it was unlocked,” Mom claims, and I shake my head. “Right now, let’s worry about your health. You work too much.”
“With the junk she eats, it can be stomach cancer,” Dad offers his wise knowledge.
“Please, don’t start diagnosing me. I swear I’ll go to the doctor on Monday, but stop throwing out names of the latest diseases you read about,” I beg them while slowly rising from my crouching position. “See, I’m fine. It’s just the movement while sliding or…maybe I have altitude sickness.”
“Now who is making up nonsense,” Dad says, shaking his head.
Mom stares at me, holds my face and sighs, “You’re pregnant.”
I laugh loudly and say, “When you show me your medical diploma, I’ll believe you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Go home, drink water, and eat slowly and in small portions.”
“I’m not pregnant, Mom,” I correct her.
“Ready to go?” Nate offers. “Thank you again for keeping an eye on Brock.”
“You should stay,” Mom insists. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Mom, I’m fine, and Nate needs to leave.”
“I promise to keep an eye on her,” Nate assures them. “Again, thank you for…”
“Anytime. Call us if she needs us,” Dad says as he helps me get inside the car. “Call me if you feel worse. I know you like to show us that you’re independent and strong, but let us take care of you.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“They are something,” Nate says, as we head to my house. “I can see Persy as their child, but you…”
“Why not me?” I wonder.
“Your sister has zero inhibitions and you are too reserved,” he explains and then snaps his fingers. “Which makes sense because you’ve lived secondhand embarrassment all your life.”
“Spot on,” I say.
“Do you mind if we go to Ford’s place instead of your house?” he asks.
“Why?”
“Because he has groceries and you don’t. I’d rather cook for you,” he offers. “If it’s a bug, hopefully, it’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
I nod in agreement. I’d be lying if I say I want to go home and be alone. I’ll take Nate over my parents and my empty house.
“Thank you,” I say and close my eyes. “I should be better in a few hours. It was the ziplining or maybe a bug.” Anything but stomach cancer or…a baby.
Eleven
Nyx
Nate drives us to Ford’s house. When we arrive, I regret not asking him to take me home where I could shower and change clothes. Thankfully, Persy lives right next door, so I go to her place to take a shower, change clothes, and brush my teeth a million times until the foul taste in my mouth is gone. Once I’m ready, I go back to Ford’s place. It would be easier to ask Nate to take me home, but I feel too sick to be alone. If Persy was in town, I’d be with her.
“You should take a nap,” he says as I make my way into Ford’s penthouse. “Follow me.”
I do as he says, and he shows me his room. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything. Brock is staying with you.”
“Thank you,” is all I can say because I feel too tired to have a conversation with him—or anyone. I don’t wake up until my phone rings. Persy’s picture appears on the screen along with the time, seven o’clock. Well, this bug really hit me hard. I’ve never slept during the day and for this long.
“And she’s out to take some air, finally,” I joke when I answer the call.
Brock grunts and that’s when I realize he is snuggled right next to me. I pet his head and he goes back to sleep.
Persy laughs, “You’re not funny. Did I wake you up?”
“Yeah, I got sick earlier today,” I explain to her.
“That’s what Nate told Ford,” she counteracts. “Do you need me to fly back?”
“No, I’m pretty sure it was just the ziplining. I feel much better,” I assure her. “You deserve this. A break. And I assume that you are having safe and crazy fun.”
“Yep, we are…having a lot of fun and also sex,” she answers, and I bet she’s staring at her dreamy boyfriend longingly.
“When are you coming back?”
“I don’t know. Apparently, Nate is staying in Colorado until Tuesday,” she responds. “Not that I’m in a hurry. I’ve finished ten chapters of my book. At this pace, I might finish writing the first draft by the end of the month or early September.”
She tells me what she’s been writing and how easy everything is coming to her. I tell her about my stupid boss and her childish way to punish me for taking time off.
“Hey, I wanted to give you a heads up,” she says once we’re caught up with each other’s lives.
“Tomorrow is Ford and Nate’s birthday.”
My early conversation with Nate makes so much sense now. He didn’t want to be working during his birthday.
“Ford wants to spend it just with me but then he’s worried that Nate is alone.”
“He’s with us. We’ll make it fun for him,” I promise, but then I think about my parents. They can be a handful.
“Are you sure?”
“On second thought, I’m not sure if he wants to see Edna and Octavio ever again,” I say and sigh.
“Oh no,” she sighs louder than I did. “What did they do now?”
When I tell her she laughs and groans. “There goes the family bonding. He’s never going to want to spend holidays with us. It was Nate’s fault, after all. You warned him.”
She catches Ford up with what happened, and I hear him guffawing.
“He thought I was joking,” I tell her, and I think she puts me on speaker because I can hear them both laughing loudly.
“Well, he had the special Brassard welcome,” Persy continues. “If he doesn’t want to visit our parents, you can make him pancakes and maybe go for a hike, please. I owe you.”
“You won’t owe me anything. I’ll make sure he has a good day. I’ll call Mom so she can prepare him something for dinner. I’d be happy to cook, but my fridge only has takeout containers and a few veggies that might work best as compost for Mom’s plants.”
She snorts. “You need a life, Nyxie.”
“Not you too.” I groan.
“Me too?”
I tell her about my conversation with Nate and Eros, and I hate when she says, “They are right. The past couple of months we barely saw each other. You were traveling a lot and the days you were in town, you were at the offic
e. Quit. I’ll hire you as my agent.”
“We might kill each other,” I warn her.
“Please, give someone else that excuse,” she says exasperated. “You and I work perfectly together. I’d rather give you twenty percent of my earnings than give it to some scumbag bitch that… Deep breaths, Persy.”
“Good, you’re at the anger stage. What changed?” I ask.
The last time we discussed Sheila, her former agent, she was sad. It wasn’t because of the money Sheila stole but because she came to the realization that her oldest friend betrayed her. With a childhood like ours, we didn’t get to have many friends. Losing one of the few we had stings.
“Clyde asked Ford to loan him the exact amount of money that we’re demanding from Sheila,” she responds angrily.
“No way!” My anger rises and so does the nausea.
I jump off the bed and run toward the bathroom barely making it on time.
“Sorry about that,” I apologize after rinsing my mouth.
“Are you okay?” Persy’s voice has the same concern Mom’s had earlier.
“Yes?” I lie because I don’t want to discuss what’s happening to me, so I go back to her scumbag agent. “I’m guessing Sheila wants to settle. Is Ford going to lend them the money?”
“No, he doesn’t want to do it, which is good. I don’t want to get into a fight because of them,” she answers and then asks, “What is happening with you? That bug sounds lethal.”
“I’m feeling like shit,” I mention and give in to the conversation because Persy is my best friend and who else but her to listen to what can be a tragedy. “You know what Mom told me
today when she saw me?”
“I’m afraid to guess. Did they pull an internet browser, added your symptoms and tell you, ‘You are dying tomorrow?’” She laughs, but I don’t join her. It’d be funny if it wasn’t hitting too close to home.
“Dad said stomach cancer. Mom said, ‘You’re pregnant!’”
“What?” she squeaks.
“They need to stop playing doctor.”
“I keep telling them that, but they don’t listen,” I agree with her and leave the bathroom.
Nate is outside looking at me. “Are you okay?”
I nod, “Yeah. Was I so loud that you heard?”
“No, Ford texted me. Persy is worried about you.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. Not sure if it’s to Nate, Persy, or for my benefit.
“Are you?” Persy asks.
“Yes, I am fine,” I repeat. Giving Nate a reassuring smile.
“No, are you pregnant?”
“No. Oh God, no. I’m not expecting anything. Not a shipment or a baby,” I swear and let out a long breath. “No, it’s impossible.”
“Have you…had sex in the past few weeks?” Persy asks, I look up at Nate who is still in the room.
Well, isn’t this an awkward conversation to have. Thankfully, he can only hear one side of it.
I bite my lip and nod. “Just once, a couple of weeks ago,” I whisper, remembering the night I ended up having sex with Edward Bryant.
He’s one of the nephews of my boss, Sarah. My heart stops just thinking of what could happen if I am. Oh please, don’t even think about it, Nyx. Stop that train of thought.
I start counting the weeks since that trip.
“It was three weeks ago,” I mumble. “While I was out of town, but we used protection.”
“What if…” she trails her voice.
“Shut up!”
Just the thought of having a kid, and with him, makes me shiver and not in a good way. This is a great example of why I should focus on my goals and not let my guard down. I was lonely, bored, and horny. He was available, kind of funny, and we said what happens outside of Colorado doesn’t come home. It’d be ironic or some kind of punishment to get pregnant after a year of not having sex.
“I’m sure Mom’s wrong,” Persy comforts me, but why don’t I feel better with those words? “But what if he used an old condom?”
“It was new. I bought them that week…a girl could hope. It had been a year, Persy.”
I begin pacing around the room. What if my mother is right? Am I having a baby? No. This can’t be happening. I…nope.
“Calm down, I’m sure it’s a bug, Nyx. You’ll be fine by Monday,” she reassures me.
“But condoms are only ninety-eight percent effective,” I almost stammer, setting her on speaker and pulling the information on Google.
“Leave it to you to know the statistics of a condom’s effectiveness,” Persy hisses. “Don’t fixate on that and just enjoy the weekend. I should ask Nate to take you out and distract you. Go to The Hideout sports bar. That should keep your mind occupied.”
“I’ve been trying not to worry, but what if Mom’s right. This will ruin…everything,” I protest feeling selfish, but how am I supposed to react.
“Nyx Andromeda Brassard, stop this insanity,” she orders. “You’re not a neurotic mess. You’re the sensible one of all of us. Now, go have dinner with Nate and remember that you’ll be fine.”
Easy for her to say. If she got pregnant, her dreamy boyfriend would step in. If I end up knocked up… What am I supposed to do?
Do I want to raise a child with Edward Bryant? I don’t think so. I should’ve thought about the consequences before we slept together. I mean, working with him after what happened has been easy. Neither one of us has acted awkward because we’re two mature adults. But a kid will change everything.
“Repeat after me,” Persy says. “My parents aren’t doctors, and I’ll be fine.”
“Miss you.”
“See you soon, okay. Nate, if you’re there, take care of my sister, please.”
“I will,” he assures her before I hang up.
He stares at me tenderly and suggests, “Why don’t we take Brock for a walk and then we can come back and have dinner? I made some chicken soup.”
“That sounds good.” Much better than going home and worrying myself sick about what is happening to me.
It’s just a twenty-four-hour bug. Nothing major, Nyx. Chill. Maybe everyone is right, and you need to slow down. You’re stressing yourself for nothing.
Twelve
Nate
These past couple of days haven’t worked out the way I planned. When I boarded the plane from New York to Denver I thought to myself, maybe you can get lucky this weekend.
We’ll be away from Ford and Persy. No one will be there to play third wheel. Nyx seems like a woman who knows what she wants and likes to have fun—when she allows herself to have it.
On Friday night while we had dinner at her place, I planned my next move. By Saturday night I’d have her in bed. It’s just a matter of loosening her up a little.
It was foolish to predict what would happen between us when it seems like everything is working against us.
She spent most of the day in my bed, but not in the way I had in mind.
Whatever bug she has not only had her puking, but she spent all day napping after we came back from her parents’ house. I spent the rest of my afternoon and part of the evening working and watching over her.
When I realized that my dinner plans had changed from a fancy table for two at Frasca to Ford’s kitchen, I started making chicken noodle soup. That’s one thing I remember about my mother. When we were sick, she’d prepare soup for us.
Before dinner, we walked Brock who had stayed with her almost all day, and then ate dinner. I’m positive that she doesn’t feel well since she didn’t hesitate to stay with me. She went to her sister’s house to grab a pair of pajamas and we stayed in my bed watching old movies.
Well, that was the intention. We picked out five movies for the evening. It hadn’t been ten minutes after the first movie started when she was already asleep. I stayed until the movie ended before I turned off the television. I should’ve moved to Ford’s bedroom, but Nyx’s head rested on top of my chest, and I didn’t have the heart to move her
away from me.
As planned, I slept with Nyx Brassard. There wasn’t any sex involved, but one of the goals was achieved, right?
It's kind of ironic to wake up to my thirty-fifth birthday next to a beautiful woman with whom I haven’t shared anything but stolen caresses and a few scenes I’d love to erase from my mind.
She might be gorgeous, but no one looks good while vomiting.
I should be running away. More like drop her at home and fly to Seattle without looking back—ever. If she has the flu or a bug, I’ll get sick. If she’s pregnant…God bless her heart. It sounds like the father is a loser. The thought of being around an expectant mother makes me angry. It reminds me of Wyatt, Bronwyn, and the family she snatched from me.
If he was mine, I’d be picking him up from his mother’s place today and spending the day with my kid. Sometimes I wonder if he’s okay, if the other guy is a good father to him. Not sure if it’s my brain or my heart that can’t understand that he’s not mine to worry about. But how can I stop loving him when I haven’t forgotten his mother either.
What a fucked up life I live!
Nobody, not even Ford knows that I’m still pining for my ex. Which is why I should just move from this bed, leave this state, and forget Nyx Brassard. Whatever it is that keeps pulling me to her isn’t real.
I don’t do anything. Instead, I stay still, waiting for her to wake up. It’s been a long time since I’ve woken up next to a woman, and this time we didn’t even have sex—or a fight to justify the lack of fucking between us.
Brock is the one who stirs first and gives me that, we have to walk now face. I push myself out of the bed, change, and we head outside for his morning walk.
When I come back, Nyx is in the kitchen, moving her luscious round ass to the rhythm of Oasis’ “Champagne Supernova” while singing at the top of her lungs.
“Morning,” I greet her.
She turns around and smiles. Her big brown eyes sparkle when she sees me and says, “Happy Birthday.”
I had no idea she knew, but I bet Ford or Persy gave her a heads up. This is the moment when I should say, “Thank you. I’m thinking about having those conference calls from Seattle if you don’t mind. There are things I have to attend to personally.”
Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds Book 2) Page 8