Have My Baby: Baby and Pregnancy Romance Collection

by Jamie Knight

  I chuckled. God, she was beautiful when she was pissed off.

  Noah held up his hands and backed away. “Far be it from me to get involved in a lover’s tiff. I’ll email you the details about the job we discussed.”

  “Can we talk outside?” I asked, glancing around at the people staring at us. “I don’t want everyone knowing our business.”

  “I think they already do, but sure, lead the way.”

  I took her hand and led her to the balcony and closed the doors behind us. “I don’t want you to work with Ford. He’s a snake. He’ll try to get you into bed the second he sees you.”

  She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. “You mean like you?”

  “No, not like me.” I shook my head and scuffed my shoe along the ground. “He uses women, then discards them. I don’t trust him.”

  She tapped a fingertip against her lips. “Is it Ford you don’t trust or me? If anything were to happen between us, what’s it to you? We were a fling. From day one, that’s what we agreed.”

  “Forget what we agreed.” I curved my hands around her shoulders, my eyes imploring her. “We’re more than a fling, and you know it. Stop playing games. I want us to be more. I can move to London, or you can move here. Hell, we can move to Ireland and live in the cottage.”

  Alex briefly closed her eyes and blew out a long, exasperated breath. “It’s not that simple, Brock.”

  “Sure, it is.”

  “It’s not. In a few weeks, boredom would set in. You thrive on being busy, and you love being famous. There’s no way you’d be content living a normal, boring life. After a while, you wouldn’t want me. You would get sick of the sight of me and become resentful.”

  “I’m not your mother or your father. I will never hurt or reject you.”

  She firmed her lips, but they wobbled a little before she spoke. “I don’t want to live in a cottage in Ireland. I love my job. I love my business. I love not knowing where I’m going to be from one week to the next. I won’t give that up.”

  “Not even for me?”

  She shook her head and stared up at the darkening sky. “Not for anyone.”

  I nodded slowly. “That’s it? It really was just a fling.” I swallowed down the lump in my throat, ignoring the voice in my head saying I should tell her how much I loved her. Tell her I didn’t want to spend a second without her. But what would be the point? I’d only end up making a fool of myself. She had her mind made up. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”

  She reached up and cupped a palm around my cheek. “I guess it is.” Her voice held no warmth. There was no tenderness in her eyes or smile curving her lips. She stood on her tiptoes, kissed my cheek, then walked into the banquet hall and out of my life.

  I leaned against the balcony and closed my eyes against the pain.

  Chapter 10 - Alex

  A month later…

  For the past four weeks, Ford Linder and I had been holed up in a cliff-top, Victorian-era villa in England, and for two of those weeks, I’d had morning sickness.

  I stood on the pebbled beach near the house and sucked in the briny air hoping it would ease my nausea. Autumn wind snapped at my cheeks, leaving my nose runny and eyes watery.

  My phone rang. I glanced at the screen—Brock—but like all the other times he’d called, I let it go to voicemail.

  He didn’t want me, not really. He wanted the fantasy he’d built up in his mind. The mundane day to day life of being a couple would drive him insane.

  Sure, he’d grown up with nothing in a trailer park, but now he had everything at his beck and call. An ordinary life living in the Irish countryside sounded romantic, but the reality would be anything but.

  Part of me feared that the Brock I’d gotten to know was all an act. That he’d shown me who he thought I’d wanted him to be. I also feared that if I caved in and gave everything to him, he would decide he didn’t want me. I couldn’t face the kind of pain his rejection would bring.

  The night of the wrap party, when I told him we were over, he barely showed any emotion besides a small tick in his cheek. He hadn’t begged me to stay or declared his undying love. I wasn’t a needy person and didn’t expect crazy gestures, but I needed to know that his life would feel incomplete without me. That his life was better for having me in it.

  Ford stood a few feet away, throwing pebbles into the rolling waves. He looked better—healthier. Every morning, we walked down two-hundred steep steps to the beach cove, and after a brisk walk along the shoreline, we walked two-hundred steep steps back up to the secluded house.

  When Noah had asked me to take care of Ford, I’d said no, absolutely not, but when he explained why he needed my help, I couldn’t refuse.

  Unbeknownst to everyone, Ford suffered from debilitating depression and had tried to combat his demons with a bottle of pills washed down with straight vodka. The reason he’d vanished was that Noah had booked him into a luxury rehab center outside London and had then rented this house in Cornwall to give him time to recover. No one but me, Noah, and Ford knew.

  My job was to keep a close eye and make sure he didn’t try anything out of desperation.

  This time next week, everyone would know Ford’s story. He’d decided to come out about his sexuality. He no longer wanted to live a lie and pretend to be a womanizer. The truth could ruin his career, but, in his words, it would save his life and his sanity.

  A gust of wind brought in a pungent stench of seaweed and fish. My stomach roiled, and I clamped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. I projectile vomited my breakfast into the rolling waves.

  Ford rushed over. “Damn, Alex. And I thought I had problems.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. I didn’t have the energy to object. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I’ll make some tea, and you can tell me all about the baby.”

  I kept my hand clamped over my mouth. “I’m not—”

  He turned me around to face him. “Alex, honey, I hear you throwing your guts up every morning.”

  I swallowed hard and retched. After a few deep breaths, I managed to say, “I don’t know for sure.”

  “You and I both know you are. I’ll jump online and order some tests from the store.”

  “That’s my job,” I said with a shake of my head. “I can run out later and grab one along with whatever else we need.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “But—”

  He brushed my protest away with a wave of his hand. “I’m ordering them ASAP. Besides, we’re running low on sea salt caramels and chocolate-raspberry ice-cream.”

  I managed a weak smile. “That’s a tragedy.”

  “The worst kind.”

  I allowed him to guide me up all two-hundred steps to the house. Once inside, he made me a cup of tea, and I contemplated what the heck I would do.

  Ford ordered five pregnancy tests along with a treasure trove of chocolate, candy, and salty snacks—all for the baby. If anyone could make me laugh and forget about my problems for a while, it was him.

  While we waited for the order to arrive, he sat down opposite me and took my cold hand in his warm one. “Are you going to tell him?”

  My shoulders slumped. “I know I have to, but I don’t know when or how. I keep telling myself it was just a fling, but I—”

  “—Love him.” Ford raised an eyebrow.

  “That obvious?”

  “From the first day I saw you two together, I figured you would be the one to corral Brock Adams.”

  “What if he thinks I was trying to trap him, and that I meant to get pregnant.” Tears burned my eyes, and I buried my head in my hands. “I’m going to have a baby. I’m going to be someone’s mother. I swore I’d never have kids, but I already can’t imagine my life without this little bean. What if I do a crap job and mentally scar her or him for life?”

  Ford rubbed a comforting hand up and down my back. “No matter how har
d parents try, they fuck their kids up. I’m a prime example. My parents lived and breathed for me. They gave me space and supported my dreams. I repaid them by washing down a bottle of pills with vodka. No matter what, you’re going to screw your kid up.”

  Unable to stop laughing, I lifted my head. “That’s encouraging.”

  “I freely admit I’m a cynical bastard, but with all the therapy I’ve had, I’ve realized a lot has to do with nature, not nurture.”

  We moved to the conservatory and watched the rain-laden clouds roll in from the English Channel. One of the things I’d miss about the house would be sitting in the window-filled room while rain pelted down. The sound was oddly comforting.

  An hour had passed when the doorbell chimed. Ford stood and rubbed his hands together. “That’ll be the chocolate and the pregnancy tests. Time to find out for sure.”

  I pushed to standing.

  He stood and shooed me to sit down. “Put your feet up, preggers. I’ll get it.”

  “What if you’re recognized?”

  “If they haven’t tracked me down yet, it’s not going to happen.”

  Ford went to the door, and I gladly flopped into the chair with my eyes closed. He was right. I loved Brock with my heart and soul. I could admit as much to myself, but I didn’t know if I had the courage to admit it to Brock.

  When he’d asked me to move to L.A. or Dublin, saying yes had been on the tip of my tongue, but I’d stopped the words from coming out. The fear of getting hurt left me paralyzed.

  My body ached for his.

  My lips ached for his kisses.

  My heart ached for him.

  I didn’t doubt he believed he wanted us to be together, but if that truly were the case, he would have said he loved me. He hadn’t, but then again, neither had I. Perhaps he was as frightened as I was.

  Raised voices echoed from the hallway. Crap. I rushed out to find out what the ruckus was about. Ford had grabbed the delivery guy by his lapels and was screaming in his face to get the fuck away and never come back.

  My heart sank, and I pressed a hand to my chest. “What’s going on?”

  Ford glanced over his shoulder at me. “This asshole paid the delivery guy to let him bring our order up, that’s what’s going on. He’s been papping us for days. Thinks he has a story.”

  “Get your hands off me,” the ruddy-faced middle-aged man sneered. “Our readers will eat every bit of this up. My photographer is getting everything on camera.”

  Dizziness engulfed me, and I moved my hand to my stomach. “Please leave. You’re trespassing.”

  “I’ve got what I came for. Expect your pictures everywhere within the next hour.”

  A pain stabbed my side, and I doubled over. A few seconds later, everything went black.

  Chapter 11 - Brock

  I threw a few logs onto the fire and warmed my hands against the bitter day outside. Autumn in Wicklow wasn’t for the fainthearted.

  It’d been a month since the movie wrapped, and a month since Alex went back to London. I didn’t know for sure if she’d taken the job to babysit Ford, but I assumed she had. The thought of her being went him made me want to punch walls. I had to get to where possible news about them wouldn’t reach me. I also needed to forget about her.

  Soon after we went our separate ways, I’d bought the cottage in Wicklow and had spent the past few weeks trying to get over Alex. Alex, with her perfect blonde hair. Alex, with her charming accent. Alex, with the body that made me feel complete. I missed her laugh. I missed her smile. Hell, I even missed the way she used to yell at me.

  Each little bang I heard, I thought it was her at the door. Waking up in a cold sweat, I’d call out her name, sometimes almost seeing her in the shadows before me. Then I couldn’t sleep until I imagined my lover’s body under mine and punished my cock until I spilled my seed without relief. There was no pleasure without Alex.

  Forgetting her wasn’t working. I couldn’t eat, and I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was drink and mope. My reflection showed a pathetic, scraggly bearded man with haunted, red-rimmed eyes. I needed to cut back on the booze but drowning in whiskey was the only way to forget about her for a few hours.

  Alex had been clear that she didn’t want a relationship, and like an obedient little boy, I’d respected her wishes. That night at the wrap party, I should have told her how I felt. I should have asked her to marry me instead of letting her go. I was a fucking idiot. A coward. And now she was gone. Alex was off with Ford somewhere and probably in love.

  The fucking bastard.

  My hands curled into fists, and I hit them against the coffee table. Fuck it. Time to get shitfaced. I went to the liquor cabinet, grabbed a full bottle of Jameson, and tipped it back. The liquid burned my throat, but unfortunately, my head stayed steady. After another shot, my vision turned hazy, but it still wasn’t enough.

  In my mind’s eye, Alex stood before me in the long, white t-shirt she liked to sleep in. Her blonde hair was messy, and a smile graced her pink lips. Suddenly laughing, she walked towards me, the hem of her shirt pulling up to reveal the very tops of her luscious thighs.

  I pulled her into my arms, feeling the way her full breasts pressed against my chest. Her back was strong, but still, she felt little and delicate against me.

  Grabbing my hardening cock in one hand, I drank down another gulp of whiskey and imagined pushing Alex against the wall. She pulled her legs up, wrapping them against my waist, drawing us closer together. My hands slipped up under her shirt to massage and squeeze her breasts. Hard nipples brushed against my palms as my girl moaned with delight in my ear.

  Thrusting my hips, I rubbed my long, hard cock between us. First, it glided on the smooth skin of her stomach, but we twitched, shifting positions until I could feel her lower lips and push inside.

  Her core was warm and wet. We were connected in the best way possible. Moving together, Alex and I shifted. We bounced. I pushed her into the wall until I could grind my cock its full length in and out of her. Warm and wet, Alex’s pussy was as tight as her grip around my neck. It was like she would never let me go.

  I shouldn’t have let her go.

  Crying out, I spent myself into my hand. It was nothing like her warmth. Just a harsh reminder of what a fool I was.

  I pressed the bottle of Jameson to my lips again. There would be no relief tonight. No solace would come to me. I might as well drink until I passed out.

  ***

  I blinked awake, wishing I was in a dark room and not sprawled on the sofa with early-morning sunlight pouring through the windows.

  Fur lined my mouth, and tiny hammers slammed against my skull. Getting wasted seemed like a good idea at the time. The bottom of the bottle never held the answer, but I would never stop trying to find one.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face and groaned. I needed an hour in the gym, followed by an hour in the sauna to sweat out the whiskey oozing from my pores.

  A text pinged my phone. My heart lurched, hoping it was Alex texting to say she wanted to talk.

  It wasn’t. It was Jemma.

  Just like Isabella, your girlfriend found someone better.

  Annoyance flamed through my veins, and despite wanting to delete the text and block Jemma, I clicked on the link she’d sent.

  What the actual fuck?

  A blurry picture showed Alex cradled in Ford Linder’s arms. My thumb shook as I clicked into the article. A series of photos showed them barefoot on a beach and holding hands. In one, her head rested on his shoulder.

  The last photo showed him carrying her into an ambulance. Pain punched my chest taking my breath away. It looked like they were in love.

  My eyes scanned over the accompanying editorial. There wasn’t much detail other than she’d collapsed and had been taken to the Royal Cornwall Hospital.

  Maybe she had moved on, but I needed to know if she was okay. I also deserved an explanation about her and that fucker Ford.r />
  Not even bothering to pack a bag or run a comb through my hair, I jumped in my car and headed to the airport. Because there were no direct flights to Cornwall, I would have to connect through London, but I would see her in less than three hours. Then I would get the answers I needed.

  Chapter 12 - Alex

  Shocked and in disbelief, I lay in the hospital bed covered with over-starched blankets and stared at the ceiling. The doctor confirmed what I’d known. I was pregnant. It must have happened the last night Brock and I were together before the movie wrapped.

  The doctor explained the pain was caused by my ligaments stretching to accommodate the babies. That and the morning sickness had left me dehydrated.

  Twins.

  In eight months, I would give birth to not one but two babies.

  Brock needed to know sooner rather than later, and if he wanted to be part of their lives, I would never stand in his way. But I expected nothing from him. I didn’t expect him to fall on his knees and propose or move to London. He would probably have a hundred questions about Ford and me.

  In the eyes of the world, we were a couple. The gossip blogs were filled with blurry photos of us, along with questions about who I was and if we were in a relationship. The paparazzi had been stalking us for days waiting for the money shot, and boy, had they gotten it.

  Ford walked into the room with the massive peanut butter shake I’d been craving. “How are you feeling?” he asked, handing the creamy goodness over.

  “Better,” I said, then took a large, satisfying slurp. “Thanks again for staying overnight and for getting me this shake. I’m sorry. So much for not attracting any attention. Noah will never hire me again.”

  “I couldn’t leave my babysitter alone. And don’t worry about Noah.” He perched on the side of the bed and patted the back of my hand. “I know it’s none of my business, but you have to tell Brock. I’m sure he’s already seen the photos and is thinking the worst. From all accounts, Isabella did quite the job on him. Like everyone else, he probably thinks we’re a thing.”