by Ford, Brenda
I’m the one who dresses well, who makes an effort to be there in a suit every day, who gives a shit about the schmoozing of clients and the usual stuff that comes with business. She’s clueless, she cares about none of that, but she has a talent. A talent that I really fucking hate to admit is there. A talent which kills me every day.
I’m competitive, the best of the best, and I don’t want anyone else to steal that from me. Especially not her. That stupid bitch. I really wish she hadn’t walked through that door and taken it from me, I wish she hadn’t brought out that deep hate within me, I wish I just didn’t know her at all. That she didn’t exist.
Even more, I wish we didn’t fall in to bed a month ago. I wish I didn’t need to fuck everyone in sight to try and get over that night, to push her from my mind. I wish that I wasn’t on the edge of a stranger’s bed right now, wanting to be anywhere in the world but here, because here is very uncomfortable. And more than anything in the world. I wish that me and her having sex didn’t end in that God damn conversation at work.
My head falls in to my hands as I think about that wild night. We were both drunk and horny, she had just been left at the alter by some guy who seemed to treat her like shit anyway – not that it was my right to say anything of course – and it just kinda happened. It was animalistic, filled with hate, and hot as hell. In that moment, her body was absolutely everything to me, I loved every inch of it. In that moment only though.
But it was just a moment, it was nothing more than that. Just a stupid, blind drunk moment never to be repeated. However good it felt at the time; it was a one time thing to never happen again. Luckily, she seemed to feel the same way because there were three months afterwards when we simply avoided one another. She didn’t say anything to me, and I didn’t make any effort to speak to her as well. All was good. I didn’t even feel the need to get her out of my system, I wasn’t particularly screwing around then, everything was good.
I assumed that it was going to stay good as well. That me and her would just forget that it ever happened, and nothing would change. Not talking to her was perfect actually. It made my life so much simpler. We were both doing well a work, sometimes me better than her, sometimes the other way around. It was peaceful. I didn’t even care about her when she was winning. It was all good… until she told me something to change it all.
“Why? You don’t want to deal with the consequences of your actions? Well, tough shit. I have to and so do you. That’s right. I’m pregnant. Me and you are having a baby. That one stupid night will haunt us forever.”
Her face was filled with ate as she yelled that at me, her eyes consumed with pain. She was a mess and so was I. I don’t really remember what happened next, it’s all a bit of a blur, but I think that I ran. I ran away and I haven’t spoken to her since. I don’t know what I would even say. What do you say to that? That I don’t want to be a father, that I’m not ready, that I don’t like her enough to even co parent with her. I can’t say that to a person, it’s horrible. Even if it’s the truth. I mean, me and her couldn’t be more different if we tried.
I leap up off the bed, unable to take the pressure of this anymore, and I grab my clothing. I pull my trousers on in a hurry, not even bothering with my boxers. Instead, I stuff them in to my pocket while I search for my tee shirt. I don’t even know where this place is, never mind how far it is away from home. There isn’t a chance in hell that I’m doing the walk of shame with nothing on. No way.
“Hey, handsome.” All of a sudden, the woman is awake and looking at me with a sultry smile on her face. “Where are you going in such a hurry? Don’t forget that you offered to buy me breakfast today?”
“I did?” Oh God, I was so drunk last night. I need to rein myself in a bit. “Sorry, I have to work…”
“No, stay,” she whines while flicking the covers off her to show me her naked form. Sure, she’s hot, but can’t she tell that this isn’t going to work now. I’m not in the mood. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I have to go.” I shake my head hard. “I need to go to work. I’m already late.”
“On a Sunday?” She cocks a curious eye in my direction. “Really? But you are a tech guy. Those people don’t work on a Sunday. Just stay here and let us have some more fun. There is still so much that we didn’t get to do last night, William. I will let you do whatever you want to me.”
I don’t even bother to correct her when she gets my name wrong. It’s probably for the best. At least she has a clue what I’m called. I wouldn’t even know where to begin when it comes to hers. A letter or anything.
“I have a… project,” I lie. “That I have been avoiding for far too long hoping that it will just go away. But it isn’t going anywhere. So, I need to just deal with it already.”
God, that’s actually a little too close to the truth. Not that I have a work project that needs my attention because I would never let anything business related fall to the side. I don’t exactly work well under pressure; my best work comes when I tackle an issue right away and I tackle it from all angles… shame I can’t have the same attitude when it comes to my personal life because I could really do with snapping in to action right now.
“And you have to do that right now? It can’t wait?” she barks, a little angrier now. “Because you swore that you would buy me breakfast and you haven’t. You are trying to run away. That makes you a liar. You know that, right? If you’re willing to lie to me this early on, then you aren’t going to be good news at all.”
“You’re right.” I head for the front door in a hurry. “I am bad news. You want to keep away from me.”
“You should have told me that last light, you fucking asshole,” she growls. “I wouldn’t have let you in my bed other wise. I don’t just sleep with anyone you know. How dare you use me like that…”
“Sorry,” I try because I don’t want to be an asshole. I am, but I don’t want to be. “Sorry, I…”
“Don’t you fucking day sorry to me, you piece of shit. How dare you? How absolutely dare you…?”
As she screams after me, I make my escape. A wave of guilt washes over me, I feel absolutely dreadful about hurting that woman’s feelings just to try and make my own better, but I can’t change that now. All I can really do is make the future better. And I suppose that starts with finally braving up and speaking to Zoe.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I practically run away from her apartment and towards my own home. “Fuck!”
I don’t want to face Zoe; I never have done. I simply want to bury my head in the sand and act like this isn’t happening, but it is. If this was going to be some sort of joke, then she would have put a stop to it by now. She would have told me that it was all over. But she hasn’t, which means there must be a baby in that woman’s stomach and there is a chance that it could belong to me. I am usually very anal about protection, it’s one of the things that I pride myself on, but I guess in the heat of the moment I forgot about it. I just got carried away.
Well, that isn’t something that I will ever do again. That’s a mistake I can’t ever make. I’m a commitment phobe, in too much of a mess to really be a father. This isn’t something that I can do… but I can’t keep hiding away from it either. I can’t pretend it isn’t happening because it is. It’s spiraling, snow balling, happening far too quickly. The longer that I avoid it, the bigger the problem will become. I am twenty years old now. Too old to let these things just happen without dealing with them. I need to tackle this head on.
But home first. That’s what I need to do. I need to get home and shower, get my head in order before I can tackle anything properly. This isn’t just a silly little decision, such as which bar to go to so I can find the hottest chick to pull, this is a woman who I might not have anything in common with and I might not like, but who might have my baby growing inside of her. I need to find the right way to deal with this or my whole life might come crashing down around me, and I don’t think that I can walk away. I was forced to grow up
with no parents – not through their own fault, they were killed in an accident when I was young – I wouldn’t want anyone else to go through the same. No way.
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Author’s Note
Thank you to all my readers, especially those who are reading my work for the first time. It is my privilege to have you by my side and I am glad and thankful that you all chose to spend a day or two reading my book.
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XO, Brenda
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Brenda Ford is a romance author who loves to write steamy romance that will give you a fresh spice in your love life.
Her books revolve around Alpha Men, Billionaires and Bad Boys, whether they are rockstars or bikers or someone staying in the neighborhood.
Her focus is to deliver that special pleasure to what a woman wants from her partner in all her books.
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