Look the Part

by Jewel E. Ann

  FIFTEEN MINUTES MIGHT be a bit long to stand at the top of the stairs, biting my nails. This gives me flashbacks to my childhood. I’d hide in my room after doing something wrong and stew over it at the top of the stairs until I finally got the courage to make the walk of shame down to the living room to confess my sins.

  I’m an adult.

  I did nothing “wrong.”

  I’m pregnant … with no husband … and no job. So what?

  I chew my fingernails some more. This is a brand new habit for me. It’s rather disgusting, but I can’t stop.

  “You’ve got this,” I whisper to myself as I take the first step toward eternal damnation. That might be a bit extreme, but I’ve never had the dear-daddy-I’m-pregnant speech. It’s terrifying, even at thirty-two.

  “Just you … and me,” he says.

  I grin as I look down at my dad in his recliner. “Did you just hear yourself? Four words, no stuttering. Barely a pause.”

  “Yes,” he says with a resolute nod and a slight smirk stealing his expression.

  “I’m not going to lie. I’ll miss Grandma and Grandpa, but I’m not going to miss Bungie.”

  “You miss Fl-int?” He cringes at his slight stumble.

  “So much. That’s what I need to talk to you about.” I take a deep breath and hold it until I just can’t hold it any longer. Here goes everything … “I’m pregnant.”

  Two unruly eyebrows shoot up my dad’s forehead. I may have been wrong. Maybe he didn’t suspect anything more than the feeling that I had something to tell him.

  “Go be with … him.”

  I shake my head. “Not without you.”

  He shakes his head. “M-my home is here.”

  “I won’t leave without you. The speech this morning is blowing my mind, really. And your mobility is getting stronger every day. I think you will make a full recovery. I really do. But until then, I will not leave you.”

  “Elle—”

  “No.” I hunch down in front of him, resting my hands on his knees. “It’s more than your health, Dad. I’m your only child, and I’m getting ready to have a baby. A baby, Dad.” I smile and it feels so good to not only want this life, but to know that it’s possible … I can hardly breathe.

  “Your first grandchild…” I give him a sly grin “…except for your five grand rat babies.”

  He shakes his head.

  “I want you to be part of this. I don’t want to worry about not getting the shot to send you photos of first smiles and first steps. I want you to be there.” I squeeze his hand. “Mom would want you to be there too.”

  After long moments of concerned looks and a few failed attempts at saying something that I know is just another argument, he gives me one slow nod. “A baby.”

  I bite my lower lip as tears burn my eyes. “A baby,” I whisper.

  *

  Flint

  “YOU TOOK HARRISON to New York City for New Years. Wherever did you get that brilliant idea?” Amanda asks when I arrive at the office.

  “Technically, my parents took him. I sort of dropped everyone off.” I hang up my overcoat. “And I think my mouthy, occasionally useful secretary may have suggested it.”

  “Dropped everyone off?” She swivels in her chair, eyeing me with suspicion as I take a seat at my desk.

  I can’t put off the inevitable. “I’m going to tell you something. You’re going to nod once, turn around, and get to work. No questions. No suggestions. No I-told-you-so’s or anything like that. Okay?”

  Her jaw unhinges as she gasps. It’s not the response I anticipated. Is she offended?

  “Oh my god! You’re confessing to my brilliance. You’re getting ready to acknowledge that I’m more than just a hot piece of ass guarding your door. Swearing me to silence is just cruel. It’s like taking a child to an amusement park and telling them they can’t ride the rides. Just … cruel. So before I start my vow of silence, let me just say how proud I am of you for doing whatever it is you have done. And I’m here for you if you have any more questions for me.”

  She draws in one more deep breath before continuing her theatrics. “And finally … I told you so.” With a twist of her wrist at her lips, she signals that her lips are locked.

  I’m already regretting this. “Ellen and her father are moving here in one week.”

  Amanda nods slowly, eyes squinted a bit.

  “They will live at my house.”

  Her eyes widen a fraction, lips twist to keep from speaking.

  “Ellen is pregnant.”

  Her eyes open even more. I’m not sure, but I think she’s holding her breath.

  “With my child.”

  Amanda’s hand flies to her mouth to muffle her scream. Her eyes are the size of saucers.

  “Harrison doesn’t know yet. I need you to turn around and call the baker who made his birthday cake. Order six dozen cookies for me to pick up this afternoon.”

  She’s in shock. I think.

  “Breathe.”

  Amanda blows out a quick breath.

  “Now…” I wave my hand “…turn around. This conversation is over.”

  For the remainder of the day she shoots me desperate looks, silently begging me to let her speak about the forbidden topic. I ignore her. On my way out, she grabs my wrist as I pass her desk.

  I turn, peaking an eyebrow.

  “Congratulations.” She gives me a heartfelt smile.

  I feel every bit of her sincerity. “Thank you.”

  *

  I TAKE THE cookies home and put all six dozen on plates scattered around the kitchen before picking up Harrison from his friend’s house. When we walk through the back door, he stops so fast, I run into his back.

  “Whoa! What is this?”

  I step around him, shrugging off my coat. “Cookies.”

  “Duh. Why?” He grabs one and shoves half of it in his mouth.

  I shrug, taking one and shoving half of it into my mouth. He watches me with suspicion.

  “Ellen’s moving back to Minneapolis.”

  Harrison crams the rest of the cookie into his mouth while his gaze moves around the kitchen counter filled with plates of cookies. There’s a fifty-fifty chance of him piecing this together. But I think, as he meets my gaze, he’s figured it out.

  “You want to have sex with her.” He makes another inspection of the sea of cookies. “I think you want to have a lot of sex with her.”

  I laugh. He’s not entirely wrong.

  “I’ve invited Ellen and her dad to come live with us.”

  “What? Why?”

  “She needs to help him, so she can’t leave him behind. And I want her here because …” I pause to think of which direction to take this first. “I love her.”

  His head jerks back, brow furrowed. “You love her?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  After a few more seconds, the shock wears off and his face relaxes. “For how long?”

  “Well, her dad will stay with us for as long as he needs help. I don’t know how long that will be.”

  “And Ellen?”

  “She’s …” I have this child who takes everything at face value. If I say forever and anything happens, then I’m a liar. “Ellen is pregnant. You’re going to be a big brother.”

  His head jerks back again. “Uh …” He laughs, picking up another cookie. “No thank you. Hayes’ mom just had a baby. He said it sucks. Everything is about the baby. They even expect him to help change diapers. And he said all the baby does is cry. Hayes has to use earplugs and a noise machine to sleep at night. The baby pukes milk everywhere, and Hayes can’t practice his trombone when the baby is sleeping.”

  Kids share too much. I regret encouraging Harrison to make friends.

  “I’m trying to be considerate about this. I know you don’t love change. But sometimes things happen in life that we don’t plan on, and we’re forced to adapt or accept them. I didn’t plan on raising you by myself, but it happened. I didn’t plan on falling in lo
ve with Ellen, but it happened. I didn’t plan on you wanting pet rats, but it happened.”

  I throw that into play so he’s reminded how I bent to accept something he wanted when I did not want rats. It’s unlikely that he’ll take that into consideration, but I have to exhaust all possibilities to make my case.

  “Did Elle plan on getting pregnant?”

  This kid …

  “I’m sure at some point, but this is a bit earlier than either one of us planned. But it’s not a bad thing. She wants this baby and so do I. And we hope that you will eventually grow to accept this baby as your brother or sister.”

  “I don’t want a sister.”

  I chuckle. “Again … adapt. Accept. We don’t get to choose whether it’s a boy or girl.”

  He piles two more cookies onto his palm and heads toward the stairs.

  “Harrison?”

  “I need some time to think about this before I say for sure yes or no.”

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shake my head.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Ellen

  I NEED PEOPLE. Maybe not a guy who delivers lubricant on the weekend, but people who transport pregnant women, stroke survivors, five rats, and a large moving truck fifteen hundred miles without a bump in the road. I want those people.

  We leave most of my dad’s stuff behind. He thinks the day will come that he returns to Cape Cod and his boat. As much as I want him to be close to me and this baby, part of me hopes that he finds his way back to the place I know he loves best.

  One day at a time.

  Flint stands on the front porch, bundled in a winter coat and hat, as we pull into the driveway just before dinner time. It’s been a long three-day drive, taking lots of stops for my small bladder and my dad’s old prostate. The hotels Flint booked us were top-notch, but nothing beats the sight of our new home.

  I get my window seat.

  I get the guy.

  I get the boy I adore.

  I get the life I want.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Flint holds out his hand to help me out of the car. The driveway has a light layer of snow on it from recent flurries.

  I ease out and throw my arms around his neck as soon as I find my footing. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” I whisper in his ear before my lips find his.

  He kisses me and grins. “Sadly, I think those are the words that are still going through Harrison’s mind.”

  The driver helps my dad out, but he’s pretty good on his own.

  “Come on, it’s cold out here.” Flint takes my hand. “Mr. Anderson, how was the trip?”

  “You’re opening your home up to me, I think Jon works.” My dad winks at Flint.

  Yeah, they’re going to get along just fine.

  “You’re speaking quite well.”

  Dad nods. “Days of being stuck in the car with a bossy therapist.”

  I laugh. Things started to click, and in a matter of days his fragmented speech flowed into full sentences.

  “Harrison, come down here, please,” Flint calls as I take my dad’s coat and hang it up on the coat tree.

  Derek, the guy who drove us in my car, and Greg, the guy who drove the moving truck, unload everything, including my rats.

  “Jon, this will be your room until the addition is complete.” Flint leads us to his office.

  My cheeks heat just being in here. Flint’s gaze makes a leisurely stroll down my body, letting me know I’m not the only one thinking about what happened in here.

  “The stairs.” Dad nods.

  “They go to the master bedroom.”

  Dad’s attention turns to me. “I can keep an … an eye on you two.”

  Please don’t.

  I smile. “It’s a little late for that.”

  Flint raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. Not even the slightest apology to my father for knocking up his daughter.

  “Hey.”

  I turn. “Harry.” Before he can protest, I hug him. “I’ve missed you.”

  I release him. He has a forced smile and conflict flashes across his face. We’re infringing on his territory.

  “This is my dad, Jon. Dad, this is Harrison or Harry.”

  Flint rolls his eyes. I grin, coveting the fact that I’m the chosen one he lets call him Harry.

  “Good to meet you.” My dad holds out his arm.

  Harry stares at Dad’s hand. Flint nudges him, and Harry shakes my dad’s hand.

  “Hello.”

  “Harrison, take Ellen and Jon to the kitchen. Offer them a drink or a snack while I talk to the movers.”

  “Where are your rats?”

  Of course that’s first on his mind. “They set the cage inside the door. It’s covered with a blanket.”

  Harry nods and we follow him to the kitchen.

  We are home.

  *

  WE GET ALL of my dad’s stuff unpacked and him settled in his room for the night. He’s pretty excited about the TV on the wall opposite his bed. Harrison acquaints all of the rats, insisting they stay in his room, to which Flint doesn’t argue one bit. Shocking.

  “I’m going to go shut off the lights downstairs.” Flint nods toward the stairway as I sit on the floor with Harry, playing with the rats.

  “Okay.”

  We’ve had a good evening. Dinner was an interesting dynamic. To my surprise, and I think to Flint’s too, Harry took a huge interest in my dad’s stroke. How he felt. What he remembers. Is it weird to think he could have died? All the questions. My dad answered every single one.

  “Every four weeks I will visit my midwife and she’ll check on the baby. Would you like to come with me sometime? You might be able to hear the heartbeat.”

  He shrugs.

  I want to push it. I want him to feel included. I want him to want this baby too. But … I let it go for now.

  “Do you want to put them to bed? Or do you want me to do it?”

  “I will.” He keeps his focus on them. He’s been a bit more quiet around me than he was before Flint told him about the baby.

  I stand, bending over to kiss him on the head. “Goodnight, Mr. Harrison Hopkins.”

  All of the boxes with my name on them and my travel suitcase are in the spare bedroom. I ease open the door to Flint’s room. It’s dark except for a sliver of light under the bathroom door.

  “My dad changed the sheets in your room.” Harry startles me. He flips on the light to the hall bathroom.

  “My room?”

  He nods toward the guest room with my boxes stacked along the end of the bed.

  I smile. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Harry shuts the door and turns on the shower.

  Opting to stay in neutral territory, since in the past six hours I haven’t managed to embrace their home as mine yet, I flip on the light to the guest bedroom and shut the door. It’s a great room too—a window seat, a walk-in closet, and a queen bed. I find the box with my pajamas and change into them.

  Harry takes the world’s longest shower, so I use the downstairs bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, taking the opportunity to check in on my dad one more time, but he’s asleep.

  “Crap!” I jump when I turn the corner at the top of the stairs, running into bare-chested Flint. “You scared me.”

  He inspects my toothbrush and toothpaste in one hand and bottle of facial wash in the other. “I heard humming. What are you doing?”

  I stare at his wet hair and just how low his jogging shorts hang on his hips. “Brushing my teeth and washing my face. Harry is still in the shower, so I used the downstairs bathroom.”

  “Harrison recently discovered how fun his dick can be, and my water bill has doubled.”

  “How fun his—oh!” My eyes widen. “No.”

  “Yes.” He smirks. “Now follow me.”

  I follow him into his room and beyond to the en suite bathroom. He flips on the light. “This is our bathroom.” He takes everything from my hands and sets it onto t
he counter by the sink. “Okay?”

  I rub my lips together, nodding slowly. “Harry said you changed the sheets on the guest bed for me, and all of my boxes are in there.”

  He leans back against the vanity, crossing his arms over his chest. “You think I want to be roommates with you?”

  He’s so damn cocky.

  “There’s no reason why you wouldn’t. I’m a wonderful roommate.”

  “You’re not. You’re messy, noisy, and you have rats.”

  I cross my arms over my chest, matching his stance. “Well, you have OCD, a perpetual frown, and you’re completely irresponsible when it comes to birth control.”

  Flint grins just to prove me wrong about the perpetual frown.

  “This is weird.” I laugh. “We’re having a baby. You’ve seen me at my worst. My grandma caught us naked in the bathtub and having sex on the vanity. Harry caught us in bed. Your dad caught us in the closet. Abigail saw the embarrassing aftermath of the greenhouse incident. We’ve already survived all the awkward there is to survive, yet I feel very awkward and shy right now.”

  He crooks a finger at me. I erase the three feet between us and find my favorite spot wrapped in his arms. Just like that, I feel less awkward.

  “I understand.” He kisses the top of my head. “We really need to stop hiding in the closet and start using locks on doors.”

  I giggle. “That wasn’t exactly my point.”

  Flint grabs my ass, giving it a firm squeeze while he buries his face in my hair, working his lips past my ear to my neck. He inhales deeply and exhales a low growl like an animal pleased by my scent.

  I love this life.

  “This is your bedroom and bathroom. Downstairs is your kitchen and living area. The front door and entry closet are yours. The driveway. The garage. The trees. The grass beneath the snow. It’s all yours.” His lips and tongue tease my neck. “I’m yours.”

  Yep … so much love for this life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Ellen

  TWENTY-FIVE WEEKS

  WE’RE TWO WEEKS away from summer break, four weeks away from the official start of summer, and fifteen weeks from my due date.

  I love this life.

  “Elle?” Flint calls my name.

  “Upstairs.”

  “That’s my girl,” he says as his voice draws nearer. “What are you doing?”