Forbidden Baby Daddy: A Secret Baby Romance

by Lara Swann

  Eventually, though, she starts fretting about us making the rest of the journey back in the dark, and we leave with the promise to come back regularly to update her with more news and our plans for it all. She’s spent the evening offering us endless advice and suggestions, but she doesn’t seem at all insistent that we actually take it - and I’m surprised how unconcerned she is about the idea of this being about our plans, rather than what she thinks.

  “Oh, sweetie.” She says to me as we finally start to leave. “Thank you so much for coming to tell me. It’s going to be lovely having a little one crawling around here again.”

  I smile, and I’m not at all surprised when she gives me a tight hug goodbye. I might have only met her a few hours ago, but I already feel unexpectedly close to her. It strikes me that I can imagine exactly that - a little one crawling around here, Jean tutting after it with the same love and affection she obviously has for her son - and it’s a little uncomfortable to realize that when I try to picture my own parents with my kid, my mind is far more blank.

  Ash and I walk back to the bike with his arm around me, and I lean my head into his shoulder, enjoying how quickly and easily the feeling of being ‘together’ has gone from exciting and new to just there. I’m sure a lot of that is because of this trip to his Mom’s, and gratitude almost overwhelms me.

  “Thank you.” I murmur, turning into his body to hug him as we stop by the bike. “This was…so special. It meant a lot to me, really. Your Mom is wonderful.”

  He smiles at me, leaning down to kiss me in a gesture that goes on far longer and more intently than I expect, both of us needing to express what all of this means to us.

  “I’m glad you liked her so much.”

  I smile at him, meeting his gaze. “You’re very lucky.”

  I say it automatically, then try not to think about all the feelings underlying that thought.

  He shrugs. “Yeah, I guess…it took a while, but it’s pretty easy now.”

  I raise an eyebrow, surprised. That wasn’t what I picked up on at all. “Now?”

  “Yeah.” He smiles, and he doesn’t seem to mind the question. “It was hard at first, when she left Dad. I’d been running wild for long enough that it was a little late to start telling me what to do - it wasn’t until she stopped trying that we started getting on again. Now, I come by for dinner when I want a nice long-distance ride or stay for a weekend if there’s something she needs help with. I tell her half of what I’m up to and she gives me advice we both know I’m not going to take, and it’s just...”

  “Comfortable.” I finish for him, voicing the way I’d felt all evening.

  I recognize what he said, too - the half-answers he gave when Jean asked about how we’d met and what we get up to, the things he doesn’t have any problem leaving out - and I guess from what I’ve just heard, it makes sense why I never felt there was any pressure behind his Mom’s advice or comments.

  He nods, smiling at me. “Yeah, comfortable.”

  I hug him tighter for a moment, then give him a quick kiss before reaching for the helmet.

  “I meant what I said, you know.” I add, still a little lost in thought. “I really do want to come back at visit.”

  His expression warms and he reaches out to stroke my cheek.

  “We will.” He promises. “I’d like that, too.”

  There’s a quiet moment, where I’m content just gazing at the man who has so completely changed my life in the last few months, before we finally get on the bike.

  We ride home in silence, the wind whipping over me as I press up against Ash’s body, relaxing into the waves of contentment that flow over me. I’ve never felt as happy or relaxed as I do right now, and I know this is a weekend I’m going to remember for the rest of my life.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ash

  I drop Chloe a couple of blocks away from her parents’ house, as requested, before turning around to head back to my shop. She’s promised me that after this weekend, she thinks she might finally feel ready to tell them what’s going on - and even though I understand how hard that’s going to be and don’t want her to feel pressured, I can’t deny I’m looking forward to the idea of not having to sneak around anymore.

  Either way, my spirits are high as I ride through the streets of Baltimore and make my way back to my shop. Considering the events that prompted it, this weekend has turned out better than I could have imagined. It’s almost hard to believe that intimidation and threat could lead to something so euphoric, but somehow it has. There’s still a part of me that’s nervous about the idea of doing all this properly with Chloe, for so many reasons, but it feels so good to finally tell her how I feel. I didn’t think she’d be the kind of girl who would want to settle down with someone like me, but then, so far she’s always managed to surprise me.

  I ride up to the garage door, pressing the button on my keys to open it automatically as I approach - and then have to slow right down as it fails to shift. I frown behind my helmet, pressing it again as I wait outside - until my eyes drift over the garage and to the front door beside it…and I freeze.

  The door is hanging at a strange angle, the frosted glass smashed up with shards glittering along the entry steps, in the dim light from a street lamp behind me.

  All the concern and worry from only two days ago comes back in a flash, the warm feeling of contentment disappearing as adrenaline hits again.

  I park the bike outside, ignoring the garage door as I head straight to the front entrance to my shop. My boots crunch the glass under my feet and when I try to push the door open, it sags on the one remaining hinge - and then that snaps, the door crashing to the floor.

  My heart is in my stomach as I walk forward, flicking the switch for the light automatically - and I’m even a little surprised when it works. Or, mostly. There’s still a long strip of lighting down the center that isn’t smashed.

  That’s probably the only thing in the shop that’s still intact.

  Or at least that’s what it looks like, from the brief, heart-stopping glance around.

  The place is a wreck.

  Tools and parts are scattered everywhere, boxes and cupboards upended and destroyed. The counters are smashed up, what remains of the cash register is hanging open and the stock of accessories that I keep to the side of that front desk is totally trashed. Not even stolen - just thrown around and broken up, with the wire stock display pulled down on top of it all. There are papers are all over the place too, spreading from a clump beside the office outward - and a few even have boot-prints where people have walked all over them.

  But what breaks my heart is the bikes.

  I’ve never seen such carnage - not even after a full-on crash.

  The bikes I own, along with so many more that I was working on for other people, are totally destroyed.

  It’s like someone took a mallet to the whole lot - or whatever tools they could find here that would do the most damage - the plastic coverings are all torn up, the bodywork is scratched and the engines…the engines are in pieces. They’re lying around the whole of the shop floor, some of them with handles and foot-pegs broken off, tires slashed, frames mangled…

  It’s enough to make me question - seriously question - the people who did this, even though the answer is obvious. I just…I can’t imagine anyone with a love of bikes doing something like this to them. It’s…unthinkable.

  I stagger slightly as I look at it all, leaning against the all. Everything I’ve made for myself, everything I’ve ever worked for…all just gone. Shattered. Broken.

  I can’t process it - not properly - but it only takes a few minutes before the complete disbelief turns to anger.

  Real anger. The kind of fury that I can’t possibly contain.

  It takes only a moment for it to find a target, too, and I pull out my phone to punch in the numbers. I don’t even want to look for the contact - I just want the tactile feeling of slamming my thumb on the phone, again and again. It’s a
poor substitute for the brawling I want to do right now, but it’s all I’ve got.

  “…Ash?” Blake picks up quickly, but his tone is harried and distracted.

  “My shop is trashed, Blake.” I bite off the words, almost too angry to voice them - or to acknowledge what’s just happened. “Gutted. Destroyed.”

  “Shit.” Blake’s attention obviously jumps to me, his tone hoarse. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  “I went away for the weekend. I wasn’t here.”

  “Oh, thank god.” He mutters, his breath whooshing out in a relief that I don’t think is at all justified.

  “Thank god? Thank god for what, damn it?! Didn’t you hear me? My shop is destroyed—all the bikes broken, nothing left—”

  “At least you’re okay, bro, at least they didn’t—”

  “Don’t you fucking tell me I’m okay. You were supposed to fix this, Blake. What the hell is going on?! What the fuck have you all been doing over there, while I’m being targeted with your mess—”

  “God damn it, Ash, I’m working on it—look—things have gone bad—”

  “You don’t say.” I snarl, my anger threatening to turn my vision red as I speak to him, as I think about everything they’ve done. “What the fuck do you mean, you’re working on it, I—”

  “Fuck it, Ash, I know you’re angry, but listen, we’re in shit here too. It’s not just you—”

  “Yeah, except you asked for it. You’re the ones that started whatever the fuck is going on, you dragged me into it and now it’s spilling out—”

  “Yeah, okay, okay, but that was nothing to do with me—”

  “Nothing to do with you?! It’s your fucking club—”

  “And yours too—”

  “Not anymore—”

  “Listen, fuck it, man—I don’t have time for—I’m doing what I can, okay? I’m trying to get you out of this—we’re all trying to get out of it—but there’s bigger things going on here, it’s above me—”

  “Bigger things—fuck that, Blake—I can’t be caught up in all this—I’m having a fucking baby!”

  It finally comes out of me - the feeling that’s been coiled up tight inside me, the thing that’s been driving all the anger burning inside me.

  The fear.

  My shop is fucking important to me. It’s devastation is painful and infuriating and hard to see.

  But it doesn’t come close to how I feel about my unborn child - or the woman carrying my baby. Not at all.

  The thing that fucking terrifies me is getting them caught up in this mess, just because of a few things in my past that won’t stay buried. I can’t let that happen. I can’t.

  If anything happens to Chloe or my baby…if what I’ve done affects them in any way…I’d never be able to live with myself. She deserves better than that - better than this. So much better.

  There’s a long pause on Blake’s end, and at least that tells me understands some of that. He’ll argue all he can about the rest of it - but my baby is enough to bring him up short. If it hadn’t been, I’d know there was no hope of ever reconciling with him after all this is over.

  When he finally speaks, his tone is softer - though just as harried.

  “At least you’re okay, Ash.” He says quietly, and continues before I have a chance to explode about how unimportant I am compared to everything else that’s at risk here. “I’m sorry about your shop—about all of it—I get it, really. But it’s done now, right? They’ve been through the place—searched it—whatever they wanted from you—that’s done—”

  “You don’t know that.” I say, my voice low with barely suppressed emotion. I’m struggling to deal with the sharp mix of bitter fear and anger twisting through me. “They could—”

  “They’ve got no reason to come back.” He interrupts, some of the force coming back into his voice again. “No one got hurt, they’ve no reason to bother you again—that’s better than the rest of us—”

  “Blake—” I interrupt again, the warning obvious in my tone. That assumption isn’t anywhere near good enough.

  “Look—I’m doing everything I can, okay?” He says, half-placating, half-preoccupied. “I get it—I’m sorry—and I’ll do what I can—but listen, I’ve got to go now—there’s shit going down here and I’m already late. I’ll do my best, Ash, you know that.”

  With that, he hangs up before I can respond and I’m left staring at the phone in disbelief.

  He hung up on me?! After all of this…

  “Fuck!” I yell it out loud, and it feels good to let it out, so I do it again. “Fucking, fuck-fuck-fuck!”

  I turn and hurl the phone against the wall, watching as it smashes too. It’s totally stupid to break one of the few remaining things I own that isn’t already destroyed, but right now I don’t care. The rage and anger is boiling hard in my veins and all I want is to smash and break things myself.

  It’s the kind of urge I gave into all the time when I was younger - and for a moment, I find myself starting to head back outside, thinking about getting on my bike, finding a dive bar in a bad part of town and picking a fight. Anything to get some of this adrenaline out of my system.

  It’s only the thought of Chloe that stops me at the door. That’s not who I want to be - not who I am. Not anymore.

  She deserves better.

  “Fuck it.” I say it again, a mutter this time, glancing back at the shop and feeling the anger drain out of me all at once.

  The sharpness of all that emotion recedes - and once it’s gone, the only thing left is despair.

  I lean back against the wall, letting my body slide down it until I’m sat on the floor, staring at the scattered remains of everything I ever hoped for.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chloe

  It’s dark as I make my way home, but it’s not too late.

  I know my parents are going to be furious about me disappearing and turning my phone off all weekend, but I hope that coming back before it’s dark out and they really have a reason to worry will help. A little bit.

  And even if it doesn’t…I can’t bring myself to worry too much. Not even the thought of that is enough to dampen how good I feel after this weekend. I know I’m finally going to tell them about the baby, too, and it’s such a weight off my mind that I finally feel able to.

  It won’t be like it was with Ash’s Mom, I know that, but the evening I’ve just come from has given me hope that after the initial explosion, it will get to the point where it’s a good thing - for everyone. Now that Ash and I are a real couple, that changes things.

  I’ll wait a few days, of course, until they’ve calmed down from this weekend - but this week, I’m finally going to share the news I’ve been keeping secret for so long, and there’s a good deal of excitement along with the inevitable anxiety.

  I unlock the front door with my key, surprised the house seems so dark. I’m almost hesitant to call out when I walk in, reluctant to actually prompt the discussion I know we’re going to have when I could just sneak off to my room, but I know delaying it would just be worse.

  Maybe you’re growing up a bit too, Chloe.

  “Mom? Dad?” I call out, walking through the house until I finally see a light under the door to the kitchen. “I’m home.”

  I add that slightly redundantly, but I figure it makes sense to act like my absence has been a totally normal thing. I mean, it should be a normal thing anyway. I should be able to go away for a weekend without my parents objecting.

  There’s no response and I open the kitchen door a little hesitantly.

  “Mom?” I start asking again, but I stop as I walk in and the tense atmosphere hits me immediately.

  Dad is standing at the opposite end of the kitchen, facing me as he leans against one of the counters, a glass of whiskey clutched in one hand. His face is a tightly clenched mask - but it’s Mom that really affects me. She’s sat at the kitchen table and when I come in she looks up at me, her face red and her eyes puffy from cryin
g.

  It brings me to a standstill, all thoughts about what I was going to say disappearing out of my mind as I look at her, my stomach twisting.

  She’s this upset? Just from me being gone for a couple of days? I told them where I was going, what did she think had happened?

  I glance between them, suddenly uncertain, and see Dad’s jaw working as he struggles to find something to say, his knuckles turning white around the whiskey glass while my anxiety jumps up. I’m used to the dozens of things Dad might say about my behavior - but I know for a fact, that the times he can’t say anything are so much worse.

  In the end, it’s Mom that breaks the tense silence, as she slides something across the table.

  “Chloe…” Her voice is quiet, and tentative in a way that scares me. “What’s…this?”

  I finally break my gaze on her face and glance down at what she’s pointing at - only for my whole world to tip upside down. I put a hand out for the wall, almost staggering as alarm shoots through me. My vision goes hazy and I’m a little afraid I’m about to faint as I swallow hard, my whole gaze narrowing on the image of my baby set between us.

  “Um, I…” I say, my voice hoarse as I say the only thing that occurs to me. “You…you went through my things?”

  It’s the wrong thing to say. Obviously.

  Dad takes an angry stride closer to the table - and even though the whole table is between us I have to fight not to flinch - his glare intensifying.

  “What did you expect, when you take off for the weekend without any way for us to contact you? We didn’t know where you were or what you were doing, if something had happened—”

  “I was in Philadelphia. I told you that.” I say, stubbornly sticking to the facts that feel like the only solid thing in the maelstrom that just opened up.