by Jenna Reed
The way he filled me was intoxicating. Every thrust stretched me, drawing out a more intense feeling than the previous one. I couldn’t get enough. One hand pulled Rhett’s mouth back to mine while the other moved to my breast, pinching my nipple, desperate to feel everything all at once. Rhett’s gaze dropped to my hand on my breast and his eyes glazed over. His thrusts came faster, losing all control right along with me. We climbed to the precipice together.
I could barely breath as my body clenched and tightened. Rhett groaned at how tight I was, grunted at how incredible I felt, how he’d never felt so amazing. His words put me over the edge and I convulsed as an orgasm shattered me. Rhett came right after, riding our mutual ecstasy before collapsing on top of me. He rolled aside immediately, pressing a gentle hand to my belly as he struggled for breath.
“That was…fucking incredible,” he said between breaths.
I nodded frantically, unable to form words in that moment. My body was reeling. So was my mind. Before I could get a handle on either, Rhett pulled the blankets up over our bodies and draped an arm around me, pulling me against his chest. I wasn’t sure how long I lay in his arms before some sense of logic and reality crept back in.
When it did, a panicked feeling swept through me. “This doesn’t mean anything,” I whispered. “It doesn’t mean we’re together. I still…we’re not…”
Rhett nuzzled against me. His breath fell heavy on my neck. “I know,” he muttered sleepily.
Did he really know, or had we just screwed everything up?
15
Rhett
I ignored the work email notifications popping up on my screen. All of them could wait until tomorrow. I’d taken the day off. The entire day. On a Wednesday. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d taken a random day off. Normally, my boss would have given me shit about taking off a weekday when I had multiple projects on my plate. Since I’d told him about the baby, he’d backed off slightly. Not on work matters, but on taking personal time. It was a small win.
Glancing at my phone, I checked the time. I wasn’t normally an anxious person. I didn’t find any value in worrying about things I couldn’t control. For some reason, I’d felt on edge since waking up. I knew it was the ultrasound, the reason I’d taken the whole day off, but I wasn’t sure why it was worrying me. Was it the possibility of them finding something wrong? Was it seeing the baby for the first time? I couldn’t pinpoint the reason behind my unsteady nerves.
We’d heard the heartbeat at the last several appointments, and all indicators pointed to the baby being healthy. So why was I pacing around my apartment? I wasn’t supposed to pick Erica up for another half hour. I needed something to occupy my time until then. Noticing several dishes on the counter, I set to work washing them. Then I started a load of laundry. The rug didn’t really need vacuumed, but I did it anyway. I was searching for something else to do when my alarm finally went off and my anxiety doubled.
Time to go.
Grabbing my keys, I stalked out of the apartment and out to my car without thinking too hard about where I was heading. I drove across town in a haze. When I pulled up to Erica’s building, she stepped out of the lobby a moment later. Her expression was equal parts worry and excitement as she hurried over to the car and climbed in. Knowing she was at least a little worried made me feel less ridiculous for my own concerns.
“Ready?” she asked.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Erica didn’t seem to mind the silence. The drive to the doctor’s office passed with only a few mundane comments. When I parked and turned off the car, neither of us moved immediately. I had to take several deep, calming breaths before I could convince myself to reach for the handle. My movement spurred Erica on, and she got out of the car as well.
We met around the back of the car, and our hands moved on instinct, grasping each other for comfort. Despite what Erica had said after we’d had sex last week, the distance she purposefully kept between us was getting smaller each day. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, but I found myself liking it. She’d made it clear there was no possibility of a relationship between us. Was she softening on that line?
Having sex with her again had done something unexpected to me. I’d had trouble not thinking about her before that night. I’d spent far too many nights fantasizing about having her again. Actually having my hands on her body and being inside of her again, it hadn’t just intensified my desire for her sexually. It made me want her in other ways. It made me think of her when I wanted to relax and watch a movie, or when I wanted to go out to eat. Instead of considering who I might meet at a bar that night, I wondered what she was doing and if she wanted company.
It was really messing with my head, and my sex life.
We walked into the office and I waited off to the side as Erica checked in. We didn’t even get a chance to sit down before a middle-aged man opened a door and called Erica’s name. She tensed and took my hand again. I squeezed her hand in an attempt to reassure her, but I doubted it was effective. I couldn’t even manage to reassure myself in that moment.
The man led us through the office to a small room filled with equipment. He directed Erica to sit on the exam table, and I helped her up wordlessly. When he asked her to raise her shirt, I had a hard time letting go of Erica’s hand. She nearly had to pry herself free. When she finally shook me off, I stuck my hands in my pockets and silently watched her push her shirt up over her rounded belly. She jumped a little when the technician squeezed blue gel all over her belly. I could see her body tense as the man readied the hand-piece. Not reaching for her took a concerted effort of will, even though I knew none of this was going to hurt her.
Maybe it was for my own comfort that I wanted to hold onto her.
“Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” the technician asked before he pressed the hand-piece to Erica’s abdomen.
Erica and I glanced at each other. The topic had come up briefly over the last week, but we hadn’t actually come to a decision. I thought of all the gender-neutral items we’d bought, and how much more baby gear we still needed to get once we knew the sex of the baby. The idea of waiting until after the birth inspired a surprising dose of fear.
Recognizing the emotions running through me, Erica asked, “You want to know?”
I hesitated a moment before nodding. “Yes, but if you don’t, that’s okay too.”
The statement wasn’t completely honest, but I would figure out how to deal with the stress of not knowing if I had to.
Erica smiled. “I want to know, too.”
Relief rushed out of me in the form of a heavy sigh.
“All right then,” the technician said. “Let’s do this.”
I watched as he pressed the hand-piece to Erica’s belly, and was startled by the sudden pictures and sounds. The whomp whomp noise was loud, and the blurs and blobs on the screen didn’t look like a baby at all. Was there something wrong?
“Usually it’s the mom that’s the nervous one,” the technician said with a chuckle.
“Is it supposed to look and sound like that?” I demanded.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “The doctor will go over the results with you, but yes, it always looks and sounds like this. When I switch to 3D it will look more like what you were probably expecting.”
My anxiety dropped a few levels, but I couldn’t stop staring at the screen as the technician took measurements and moved the hand-piece around Erica’s belly. At some point, Erica reached out and took my hand. She squeezed it gently, smiling and looking mostly relaxed. I was sure her remaining concern was directed at me and the fact that I was freaking out. Realizing that, I made an effort to calm down and stuff away my fears. It kind of worked…until the 3D image popped up on the screen.
It felt like someone had sucked the air out of my lungs when I saw a little face with a hand squashed up against it. Holy shit. Not being able to tell what I was looking at had freaked me out. Being able to see my child’s face gave new
meaning to the word panic. The theoretical idea of having a child with Erica was suddenly a reality. I didn’t understand how it hadn’t hit me like this before. We were actually having a baby. It wasn’t just buying shit and putting together furniture. At some point, that little face was going to be in our world. In our arms.
My breathing faltered. I couldn’t seem to draw another one in. What did we know about raising a baby? I could buy whatever we needed. Gear, cribs, clothes. That was the easy part. Could I actually help raise a child? What if I screwed up? What if Erica was disappointed in my abilities? I couldn’t let her or the baby down, but I had no fucking clue what I was supposed to do when the baby actually arrived.
“Looks like you two are having a little girl,” the technician said happily.
Erica gasped in delight. She’d said she didn’t have a preference either way, but I’d known she was secretly hoping for a girl. I felt like I’d just been punched in the gut. “Fuck,” I whispered.
Erica looked over at me, her head tilted to the side in question. “Are you disappointed?” she asked.
Somehow, I managed to shake my head. I’d wanted a girl too. In theory. Now, I was on the verge of losing my shit. “I just…I didn’t think…I don’t know anything about little girls.”
Giggling, Erica squeezed my hand. “Neither do I, but we’ll figure it out together.” When I didn’t immediately respond, she looked at me with a pleading look. “Right?”
“Yeah,” I said quickly, “of course. We’ll figure it out.”
The words struck me as a lie, even though I wanted them to be true. Erica had two brothers. I had Cody. Sophia didn’t count as a sister, because she was more like one of the guys than most of my other guy friends. Erica taught small children, but that was different than raising one. The only things I knew about women came from dating them.
Fuck, she would date. One day, our daughter would date. She’d have assholes trying to hit on her. Other girls being mean to her, playing those spiteful games girls excel at in middle and high school. What if someone hurt her? What if I couldn’t protect her? What if I couldn’t be the dad she deserved? A million more questions snowballed, compounding my fears until all I could do was shut down.
“You okay? You look a little pale all of the sudden,” Erica asked her tone brimmed with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine…just thinking about having a girl freaks me out a little. You know what if she dates and stuff?” Apparently Erica and the technician found my worry funny, because they both broke out into laughter.
“You and every other man who ever had a daughter,” the technician said.
“How about we worry about things like changing diapers, college and teething before we worry about stuff like dating and driving?” Erica suggested, and I swear my blood pressure rose. All she did was list more things to freak out about.
How was I going to survive this? Were there men that died from this kind of thing? I was for sure exaggerating things, but I was also mentally freaking out.
16
Rhett
After dropping Erica off at her apartment, I drove…and drove. After an hour, when my mind was still whirling and my panic hadn’t scaled itself back at all, I ditched my car at my apartment building and made for the nearest bar. The bartender slid a glass of whiskey in front of me and walked away to help another customer. I hadn’t been to a bar in the middle of the day on a weekday since college. Knowing this was a stupid idea didn’t stop me from taking a hearty drink.
The whiskey burned its way down my throat and my foot started tapping, urging the liquor to hurry up and start working. My impatience had me taking another gulp, then a third. I was three drinks in before I finally felt my panic slip away and my thoughts cloud enough that I wasn’t spiraling through the many ways I could fuck up being a father. I didn’t understand how Erica had remained so calm. Excited even!
I knew, though, that she’d sensed my panic. She’d been too quiet on the way back to her apartment. Her gaze kept flicking over to me, the wrinkle between her eyebrows that only appeared when she was worried on display. Despite seeing her visible concern, there was no way I could reassure her. I was too freaked out to do anything more than try not to say something I would regret.
Every part of me had been screaming at me to run. That voice had mellowed finally, thanks to the whiskey, but it was still floating through my thoughts on repeat. What had ever made me think I could do this? The chances that I would screw my daughter’s life up were much higher than the chances that I’d win father or the year. I knew absolutely nothing about raising a little girl. Maybe I could make it work with a son. I at least understood something about what young boys needed, thanks to having been one and growing up with Cody. A girl? I shook my head and sank down on the bar stool, resting my elbows on the bar top and letting my head hang.
“This seat taken?” a soft, feminine voice asked.
I glanced at her briefly and shook my head before looking back at my glass. It was almost empty again.
“Rough day?” the woman asked.
“You could say that,” I grumbled. I didn’t want to talk. Especially not about the baby.
The woman laughed, though it sounded more angry than anything close to pleasurable. “Want to bet mine was worse?”
I really didn’t, but I felt bad ignoring her. She was at a bar in the middle of the afternoon, for God’s sake. Given her business professional attire, I guessed this wasn’t regular thing for her. Peeling my attention from my glass, I glanced at her without turning my head fully. “Yeah?”
“My boss just informed me that my position was no longer needed and I could pack my things,” she began. “When I got out to my car with my box of knickknacks and half-dead fern, my tire was flat. I called my brother to see if he could give me a lift, but he was out of town for work. Roadside assistance can’t send someone for two hours.”
“So, you figured as long as you were stuck, why not have a drink?” I asked. She really was having a shitty day.
She nodded and waved at the bartender. “I can’t actually afford it, now that I have no income, but what the hell, right?” She shook her head. “I was going to go home and do the same thing anyway.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said.
The bartender finally noticed her and took her drink order. The vodka soda didn’t take him long to make and he set it in front of her without a word. She scowled at him as he walked away. “Not the friendliest guy, is he?”
I chuckled, the whiskey suddenly starting to hit me full force. “He never is. I don’t mind, though. Didn’t come here to talk to him anyway.”
She huffed. “I like to talk to the bartenders, especially when I’m pissed off.”
I didn’t doubt that. She was one of those chatty types of women I usually stayed clear of when I could. If all I was after was sex, why would I want to waste time talking? Most of the women I met at bars didn’t have much to say anyway. Most were after the same thing I was. I downed the last of my whiskey and stared at the empty glass.
Those days felt like forever ago. I hadn’t taken a woman home since Erica told me about the baby. She was the only woman I’d had sex with since then, and only the one time. And she’d made it damn clear it didn’t mean anything to her. As the whiskey raced through my veins, blurring my chaotic thoughts even more, anger bubbled up from somewhere. Erica didn’t want a relationship. Neither did I. So why had I been living like I needed her permission to see other people? Erica didn’t want me. She didn’t believe in me, either.
The air felt thick as I turned to look at the woman next to me. She was attractive. Her blonde hair was an unnatural shade, and her nose was too pointed, but she looked like she’d be a good distraction. She looked like she needed to vent her frustration with more than just words. I needed to get out of my own head. Nothing accomplished that faster than sex.
“I’m Rhett, by the way.” I extended my hand and she took it with a smile.
“Charlie.”
I smiled back as we shook for a little longer than necessary. “Tell me about this shitty boss you don’t have to put up with anymore,” I said.
Charlie perked up a bit and launched into how much she hated her boss and how not having to put up with him anymore was the only silver lining to being let go. I chimed in with stories of my asshole boss, my words slurring a few times. Charlie didn’t seem to notice, and moved on to talking about what she was going to do next.
At some point in the conversation, her hand ended up on my thigh, and progressively moved higher the longer she talked. Flickers of thoughts about Erica tried to crowd in, but the whiskey haze I was floating through kept any serious thoughts from sticking around for too long. Soon enough, Charlie’s skirt inching up her tanned thighs became my sole focus. I helped it along, scooting closer until I was close to slipping off my stool.
“I can’t believe they still haven’t texted me about my car,” Charlie complained, her fingers playing with the collar of my shirt. “I’m not sure how much longer I can stand to wait for them. There are other things I could be doing right now.”
She didn’t seem to care that I was plastered by that point, and neither did I. What was the point in saying no to her all-to-obvious suggestion? She wanted me. I wanted her. Not as much as Erica, but that was never going to happen. Why not? There was no reason not to take Charlie back to my apartment and fuck her until I forgot the reason I’d ended up in the bar in the first place.
“I only live a few blocks away,” I said slowly. The words seemed difficult to form. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened to me.
Charlie eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across her lips. “Oh really?” Her fingers trailed down my chest. “Well then, maybe I’ll just freshen up a bit and you can show me just how close you live.”