And he’s completely, utterly psycho. But, hey, I’m the problem obviously.
I stare out at my empty studio, all the mats rolled up in the corner, waiting to be used. I have no doubt in my mind that Keith started the rumor of the bedbugs. Heck, it might not even be a rumor. All he had to do was pay a pest control guy to park his truck in front of my studio all night and let the story write itself. For all I know, the town thinks I have any number of creepy crawlies—roaches, bedbugs . . . lice. Or Laura blabbed about Knox’s offhand comment at lunch. I don’t think it’s her, though. I don’t put it past Keith to completely destroy my business to punish me and make me needy and vulnerable. I have no one here that will take my side.
He’s trying to corner me.
Except . . . I don’t have to be cornered. Natalie’s given me an out. I can give up here and run away, start over with a new place to live. I can give up on my business. I can get hours away from Keith.
I can move closer to Knox.
Just thinking about him gives me warm, fuzzy feelings. I haven’t been the greatest girlfriend to him in the last few days, since I’ve been preoccupied with the mystery of my failing business. Being closer to Knox means I can see him regularly. It means I can see his laugh in person and touch him, and let him put his arms around me. I can breathe in his scent and touch his ticklish beard, and we can have all the nasty sex we want to. We can go on more dates.
He can be at my side when I have more doctor’s appointments for the baby.
Really, if it weren’t for Knox, I’d turn Natalie down flat. I love her, but I’m stubborn and don’t like to give up. In fact, the idea of abandoning my studio here makes me crazy. But there’s Knox to think about, and the baby. I’m not just thinking about what’s best for me at this point, but what’s best for all of us and the future. Maybe it is better to move closer to him. It doesn’t have to be moving in with him, not yet. But maybe in a few months we can see where we’re at.
Maybe . . .
It’s a little frightening to be thinking about a future with him. All of my future plans have only included me. Then again, none of my future plans ever included a baby, either, and I’m having to wrap my brain around the concept. I touch my stomach, thinking hard.
Do I do what’s best for me, or do I think about the baby and Knox and the future we could possibly have together?
As if he can sense my troubled thoughts, Knox pings my phone with a text.
KNOX: Let’s say I was missing my girl and thinking about her. Haven’t seen her in almost a week and keep thinking about the taste of her pussy. How would I get her to go out with me again so I can lick her until she’s screaming?
KNOX: Asking for a friend, of course.
I can’t help but smile at his text. I know how much he hates texting, but since I asked him to do that instead of call, he’s been great about it. Every day, I get weird pictures from him, little notes, and the most exacting, precisely spelled and punctuated texts that make me laugh inside. It’s like he’s trying so very hard to do texting correctly, just to please me. Doesn’t take much to give me the warm fuzzies when it comes to this guy.
Would it be so terrible to move closer to him and far, far away from Keith? I look around my little studio, wishing that I felt more compelled to stay. That I could feel a bone-deep sense of pride in what I’ve created here and tell Keith to fuck off and stand up for myself. That I could regroup and win my customers back. It’d take hard work and a lot of hustle, but I’m sure I can do it.
Instead, I’m just tired. The thought of doing open classes and recruiting and flyers and convincing people like Mrs. Bateman that she needs my classes . . . all of that makes me want to take a nap. Even if I managed to right my sinking ship, that doesn’t solve the problem of the baby and what I’m going to do once it gets here. Knox deserves to be in the baby’s life, but if he’s a few hours away, that means we’re going to have to hustle twice as hard to make things work.
And the thought is exhausting. I’ve tried so hard for so long it’d be nice to take a break. Instead of seeing hard work rewarded when I look at my studio, I see the hole Keith put in the wall and nothing but worry about how I’m going to pay the rent on this place next month. I don’t see opportunity anymore. I see an anchor weighing me down.
I consider my phone and Knox’s dirty text.
LEXI: I think you have the wrong number, young man.
LEXI: No hot pussy here.
KNOX: I’m not so sure about that. Have you checked lately?
KNOX: Go ahead, I’ll wait.
I laugh despite myself. He can always make me forget just how troubled I am, and I love that about him.
LEXI: You’re just dying for me to touch myself to the thought of you, aren’t you?
KNOX: Am I that obvious?
LEXI: You’re a man, so yes.
KNOX: I’m going to pretend you said that with a smile on your face.
LEXI: Oh absolutely. I wouldn’t dream of saying such things otherwise.
KNOX: So . . . do you have an answer? About how I’d get my sexy, tasty, limber girlfriend to see me again?
LEXI: I like how you casually threw “limber” in there.
KNOX: I feel it’s an important trait.
LEXI: Totally. I’m doing stretches in anticipation of our reunion.
KNOX: Me too. Want to make sure I can keep up.
I laugh again. I feel like a bit of a loon sitting in my empty studio and just laughing to myself, but Knox’s texts just make me feel so good about everything. Like nothing’s a problem when he’s there to make me smile. Like it’ll all be okay even if I’m pregnant and unmarried and broke and being stalked by a jerk.
So I think for a moment, and then text him again.
LEXI: As for seeing your girlfriend again, what are you doing this weekend? Because I might be moving into Natalie’s guesthouse. I’m going to need someone to help me unpack.
KNOX: Hell, I can do more than unpack. I can help you pack. I can shove all your stuff into the back of my truck and help you move, too. You name it, I can do it.
KNOX: And then, of course, I can lick your pussy to help you relax.
KNOX: I’m charitable like that.
LEXI: Your generosity is overwhelming. But just helping me unpack will do.
KNOX: I can do that.
I set my phone down, because my hands are shaking a little. I guess I’m doing this. I’ll text Nat to let her know I’m coming and start packing. I don’t want Knox to come to Luka and help, because I worry that Keith will see him hanging around and it’ll turn into a messy confrontation. I just want to quietly get out of here. I’ll keep things low-key and then just bail one night. No forwarding address, no confrontations or goodbyes. Close down the studio and quietly disappear. No more Keith. No more stress.
No more worries. Fresh start. I can do this.
Chapter 14
Lexi
Three Days Later
“You have no idea what a good friend you are, Nat,” I tell my bestie as I run a roller up and down the wall. I’ve just moved in to Natalie’s guesthouse with most of my stuff still in boxes, and we’re giving the place a quick paint job before I unpack.
Well, I’m giving it a quick paint job. Poor Natalie’s lying on the couch with a cold cloth pressed to her forehead and a barf bucket at her side. She has morning sickness something awful. It makes me feel a little guilty that I’m doing amazing, without a hint of any sort of nausea. If anything, I’ve needed to nap and I eat like a horse, but I don’t see those as problems.
“I’m selfishly glad you’re here,” Nat tells me from her spot on the couch. “I missed having a friend nearby. I mean, Clay’s here and he’s wonderful, but I can’t complain about girl stuff to him.”
I grin and give the wall another swipe of cheery yellow. Even though I love my dark and forbidding color pa
lette when I wear clothing, I like a bright and airy room. The ceiling here has been scraped of popcorn and painted a pale pink, and the walls are going to be a pale yellow. Instead of curtains, I’ve opted to use some of the sheer Indian scarves from my studio. I abandoned most of my furniture, since I figured I could buy new stuff at the nearest superstore.
Mostly, I’d just wanted to get out of Luka fast. I waited for a weekday so Keith would be working, packed up my studio, packed up my apartment, and shoved it all in my car and got the hell out of there. I talked to my landlord and paid the rest of my apartment rent, even though it cleaned out my savings. I’m still figuring out what to do about the studio rent, since I’m technically on the hook for it at the beginning of the month, but I’ll figure that out.
For now, I’m going to concentrate on the fact that I’m here with friends and grabbing at my fresh start. “I really appreciate this,” I tell Natalie again for the billionth time. “Are you sure Clay doesn’t mind me paying you just a hundred a month until I figure out what to do about my business?”
She snorts and presses the towel tighter against her brows. “Lexi, you dork. Clay wouldn’t care if I paid you to live here. He just wants me happy, and if having you nearby makes me happy, he is all for it. I’m just surprised you decided to pull up roots.”
I shrug and dip my roller into the paint again, then slap it on the wall. “I thought it was time for a change. All my clients have been kind of wandering away, and the writing was on the wall, so to speak.”
“Why were you losing clients?” she asks, sympathy in her voice. “Because Luka’s so small?”
“Maybe,” I tell her. I don’t elaborate. She doesn’t know that Keith was causing me problems. I’ve always been really good at hiding my issues. Heck, it was hard enough confessing to Knox that I was married once. I haven’t told Nat that. There’s something about my inability to handle my personal life that embarrasses me. My yoga studio failing? That sucks, and it happens. I can talk about that. But my ridiculous first marriage? My problems with Keith?
The baby in my belly?
I can’t say a thing about them. It’s not that I don’t trust Natalie. It’s that everything inside me locks up and fills with shame at the thought of sharing all my fuckups.
Sorry, baby, I mentally apologize to my stomach as I run the roller down the wall. You’re a fuckup, but a good kind, I promise.
To change subjects on Nat, I glance back at her as I paint. “So tell me about the parasite. How far along are you?”
She groans. “Almost three months.”
“Considering you bought this house and married Clay after that, I can math up that prim Natalie Weston has been a very, very naughty girl.”
Her laugh is pained. “Just don’t tell my father. I’m going to ‘have the baby early,’ as far as he knows.”
Nat’s father is a whole other mess of worms. I don’t comment that she’d be lucky if he remembered the baby at all, but that’s just cruel, and I won’t be that way to Natalie. She’s a damn angel and deserves every bit of happiness she can get. “I won’t say a thing. You hoping for a boy or a girl?”
“It feels disloyal to pick one,” she admits from her spot on the couch. “Like if I say one thing, I’m going to destroy my kid if it’s not that. I’d be happy with either one.”
“That’s a total cop-out answer and you know it. You have to have an idea of what you want.” I know I do. It came to me about a week ago, maybe when I last saw Knox looking at me with those dark brows and that gorgeous smile. I want a boy. I want a boy that looks just like him with his beautiful eyes and strong build. He’s so good-looking that something like that deserves to be passed along in the world. I like to think his son would have his father’s same watchful, clever mind. How wonderful would that be?
Behind me, Natalie sighs. “Well, if I had to pick something, I guess I’d pick a girl? Just because of the sweet little dresses you can put them in. But I really would be happy with anything. I’m just thrilled that it feels like everything’s finally coming together. I have Clay and we’re having a baby. Everything else is just gravy.”
I glance back at her and she’s got the most beatific smile on her face. Aw. “You’re lucky. I’m so glad everything’s worked out for you.”
“I really am happy,” Natalie says softly. “I want the same for you, too. I want you to be as happy as I am.”
With a man and a baby on the way? She has no idea how close to the mark she’s hitting with that.
* * *
* * *
Natalie bails out on me a short time later, the paint fumes only aggravating her nausea. That’s all right. I don’t mind painting the rest by myself. I get it done quickly enough, but I can’t stop thinking about Natalie and her happiness. All she’s ever wanted was Clay, and she has him and the baby to boot. I have the baby, but I don’t know how I feel about Knox.
Scratch that. I know how I feel about Knox. I like him—far too much. I don’t know how to process that, because everything in my mind is screaming danger when it comes to settling down in a relationship. It turned out bad with Jonas. It turned out worse than bad with Keith. What if things go sour with Knox? Not only will there be a baby in the mix, but my best friend (and the holder of my rent) is married into that family. It’d be smarter not to get involved at all.
If Knox and I have an ugly breakup like I did with Jonas, I could lose everything. Again. Just the thought makes me break out into a cold sweat.
Someone knocks at the door to the guesthouse. “We don’t want any,” I call out.
There’s a laugh. I recognize it immediately. Knox. My body flushes with awareness, and I feel feverish. Going from terror to arousal will do that to a girl, I suppose. I put down my roller and head to the door. The windows are open to let in air, but I didn’t like the idea of the door hanging open, so I flip the lock and open it a crack.
Knox gives me a devilish smile on the other side of the door. He’s got a basket of flowers under one arm and what looks like a champagne bottle. “Housewarming celebration incoming. Before you ask,” he says, pointing at the bottle, “this is apple cider.”
“Exciting. You’re just in time to paint.” I open the door wider, indicating he should come in.
He eyes the guest house as he walks in, sizing it up. “This is nice.”
“It is,” I agree, really pleased with my new digs. I forgot to ask Natalie to send me pictures before I moved, so I came into things a little blind. The guest house itself is roomy, the “main” room as big as my old apartment, and windows line the walls to let in a lot of light. There’s a stone fireplace angled in one corner, a small kitchen, and a separate room for my bed, with a bathroom in the hallway. It’s absolutely wonderful, and I’m so thankful Natalie’s such a good friend. I couldn’t even afford something like this on my regular budget, so for her to graciously allow me to live here for a hundred bucks a month seems practically criminal.
It feels like I’m using my friend, and my mood plummets a little. Combined with my confusion over where Knox and I are at, I’m a frustrated mess within a few seconds flat. Thanks, hormones.
He enters the guesthouse, and his eyes gleam with pleasure as he sizes me up. “You’re lookin’ mighty fine today.”
I glance down at the shorts and old T-shirt I’m wearing. My hair’s pulled into a messy knot and I’m sweaty and covered in paint drippings. “I see we’re going to have to recalibrate what ‘mighty fine’ means if this is your idea of hot.”
“Sweetheart, you could be wearing a paper bag and I’d think you were the sexiest creature alive.” He moves toward me immediately and puts his arms around me and gives me a light kiss. “Been too long since I looked at you. Now show me where all this furniture is so I can help you set up your new place.”
I should be melting under such flattery, but all I can think about is how I’m using him, in a way. H
e didn’t ask to be a dad, or to have a ready-made girlfriend. Our hookup was supposed to be a one-time-only thing, and here I am bringing all my problems to his lap. I’m even moving closer, and he won’t be able to get away from me even if he wants to. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m like a tornado, ripping up lives wherever I land. Jesus.
I have to wonder how fucked up my kid is going to be with me as a parent. I didn’t have the best examples myself. Last I heard, they were living in a religious commune and waiting daily for Armageddon.
“Hey,” Knox says, and brushes his fingers over my cheek before tilting my chin up so I can meet his gaze. “That’s not the Lexi I know. What’s wrong?”
“You sure about that? Depressing, moody Lexi might be the true Lexi.”
“Moody, maybe. But depressing, no. Even when you’re at your darkest and finest, there’s a hint of glee in those eyes. It’s gone today. What’s bothering you?” He moves to the only chair in the house, a folding metal one, and sits down, then pats his knee. “Want to come tell Daddy about it?”
“I can’t decide if that’s creepy or a turn-on.”
“Little of both?”
I can’t help the smile that curves my mouth despite my shitty mood. Hard to stay upset around him. “You can’t do daddy play very well, considering you’re half toddler yourself.”
“Five years younger, not twenty-five,” he says in that patient voice, and reaches for my hand, tugging me over to him. “And if daddy play’s not your thing, you can be my babysitter. Either way, come sit in my lap and tell me who or what’s bothering you so I can beat it up.”
He’s serious, too. The look on his face is deadly earnest. I rub his jaw, feeling the wiry bristles of his beard against my skin. “You can’t beat up the world.”
“Watch me try.”
I shake my head. “You can’t beat up depression and anxiety. Trust me, I’ve tried.”
He wraps his arms around me and hugs me closer to him, until I’m cuddled in his lap, my legs curled up and my entire body pressing up against him. I put my head on his shoulder and he strokes my hair, quiet. God, this feels far too good. I shouldn’t be so comfortable with someone so fast but . . . I can’t help it.
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