Tempting Forever

by Mia Pride

  Her eyes widened slightly at my proclamation, but it was too late to take it back, nor did I want to. Nodding, Monica swallowed. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Still, it’s likely from the exam earlier. I just didn’t want to be alone—just in case.”

  “Nor should you be alone. I am very glad you called me, and I hope you always will. You look tired as hell, though.” She raised a brow, and I rubbed mine in frustration. “You need more rest, I mean. You’re still gorgeous.” Fuck.

  Her brow creased but she accepted the truth that she needed rest. “I am tired. I should sleep, though I’m not sure what for. I have no job to get to,” she scoffed and turned, making sure not to lock gazes with me.

  I wanted to tell her she didn’t need a job, that I would take care of her, the child, the medical bills, her mortgage. I didn’t care. I just wanted her to stay well and worry about the baby—nothing else. But I also knew she had too much pride to accept such an arrangement.

  I followed her deeper into her living room, but when she stopped to put down her pug, I came closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. With a sigh, Monica stepped into my embrace, allowing me to enfold her in my arms. Her hair tickled my chin, and my stomach tightened at the rightness of it. I wondered if she felt it too, but now wasn’t the time to ask. She was vulnerable and needed my comfort, nothing more.

  “Why don’t you get to bed, Mon. I will stay here on the couch in case anything happens in the middle of the night.”

  Stepping out of my embrace, she looked up at me with her large brown eyes, and I felt that familiar pulling sensation near my heart that told me I was in a world of trouble with this woman. “You need to work in the morning. Crap... I shouldn’t have called you here. It’s one in the morning. I’m okay, really. You can go.”

  “Stop. I’m staying. I will wake up early enough to get ready for work. I don’t sleep much anyway. Trust me.”

  “Okay. Well...” She took a deep breath and swallowed. “I would feel better if you slept beside me if that’s not asking too much. I just... I just need you right now.”

  Her voice trailed off, and I knew it cost her greatly to say those words. If only she knew how much I needed her, too. “I can do that. Lead the way.”

  Nodding and pursing her lips, Monica walked down her small hallway, and I took a moment to look around her quaint home. It wasn’t much, but it was hers and fit her unique personality. Sleek, modern neutrals blended perfectly with touches of bright florals, giving life to the room. Photos hung on the walls of her, Brent, Crystal, and of course, Gracie. One, in particular, caught my eye. It was a photo of her and Steve smiling wide and embracing with the Eiffel Tower in the distance. I hated it. Mostly, I hated the churning in my gut when I saw the happiness in her brown eyes, or the jealousy I felt that he had created those memories with her, or the irritation I felt that it was still up on her wall.

  The last door on the right was wide open, and I followed her into the bedroom, where a king-sized bed with teal floral sheets dominated the space. A long dresser with a mirror against the opposite wall was the only other main piece of furniture. Again, the space was small, but she made it her own, and I respected that.

  “Sorry, it’s nothing compared to your home,” she muttered. “But it’s my slice of the pie.”

  “I think it’s great, actually. Just enough space to feel like a home. My home feels like an empty fortress at times.”

  Monica stretched and yawned, her lids drooping and her eyes glassy. “I think I can rest a bit now that you’re here. I haven’t spotted since I called.”

  “Good. Get in bed and rest. Anything you need, I will get for you. What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  Climbing beneath her sheets, Monica looked around the room and put her hands up just as Charlie bounded onto the bed and curled up beside her. “You’re looking at it. Charlie and I will have a party for two. No job, remember?”

  “Right. Well... good. Not the job part. We will figure that out later. I just want you to rest.”

  I walked around the edge of the bed and hesitantly pulled the sheets back. “You’re okay with this?”

  “Absolutely. I trust you implicitly, Chris.” Her words, accompanied by her beautiful smile, made my stomach tighten once more. “But... there is nothing for us to figure out tomorrow. There is no ‘us’ or ‘we.’ My life isn’t your burden to sort out.”

  Monica scooted further down and laid her head on her pillow, but not before I felt the slash of her words cut like a knife. Damn it. There was an “us,” and it... he, or she... was inside her womb right now. And I was more concerned about her spotting than I was even willing to admit. But even without that, what we had was deeper than friendship. She must know that. Still, arguing the point now was not appropriate. But I was addressing this as soon as possible. Monica was mine, even if she didn’t know it yet.

  Lying beside her with Charlie snoring between us, I turned off the small white light on the nightstand and rolled toward Monica. I wasn’t used to sleeping with clothes on, but there was a lot about this I wasn’t used to: sharing a bed, snoring pugs, wanting them both in my bed every day.

  “Goodnight, Mon.”

  “Night, Chris,” she sighed and went silent for the rest of the night. As for me, I stared into the darkness for quite some time with wants, needs, desires, and unspoken words all floating through my head. I usually fell asleep to the images of spreadsheets and sales numbers. Images of Monica holding our child had somehow replaced everything else, and I never slept better in my entire life.

  Monica

  WHEN I WOKE UP THE following day, Charlie was on my arm, snoring away. Rolling over, I realized Chris was already gone. The sunlight streamed in through my sheer white curtains, and I figured he must have left for work.

  I had no more cramping all night and was anxious to make sure the coast was clear and get to the bathroom. As I sat up in bed, I noticed the small note on the pillow he used. Scrawled out in perfect cursive was a message from Chris.

  I hope you sleep in and feel better when you wake up. I’m off to work, but we have some things to discuss. I will call you later. Love, Chris.

  Love, Chris. I looked at the words over and over, wondering why such a simple saying made my stomach flutter and my heart race. They were just words, a generic sign-off used in letters all the time. Still, he had come all this way and stayed with me. He really was invested in this child, and it felt good to know I wasn’t completely alone.

  Climbing out of bed, I walked to the bathroom and examined myself, relieved that everything seemed completely normal again. No spotting. I sighed and leaned over the sink, staring at my reflection. My hair was a mess, and dark circles smudged my eyes, but suddenly none of that mattered.

  My cellphone rang, and I dashed to my nightstand to see who it was. When I realized it was my doctor, my hand shook as I swiped to answer the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, is this Miss Stevenson?”

  “Yes, this is Monica.”

  “Hi, Monica, it’s Doctor Herrera. I saw the note that you called last night, concerned about some spotting. Is everything okay this morning?”

  “Uh, yeah, I think so, actually. Maybe it was from the exam?”

  I heard the doctor murmur her agreement through the phone. “Likely. It doesn’t always happen, but it does happen and is no cause for concern. It’s in the notes I sent home with you after your appointment, but I should have told you. I’m very sorry if you were distressed.”

  I felt like I was already failing as a parent. There was so much information to learn, things to read. I did skim the notes but must have missed that part. “I’m sorry. I feel silly now.”

  “Oh, goodness. Nothing to feel silly about. This is an exciting but new experience. You could go through this three different times and have three different experiences. Don’t let all the books and advice everyone throws at you overwhelm you, and never hesitate to call me directly if you are worried. I’m just glad to know the sp
otting stopped. You should be perfectly safe to resume normal activities such as exercise or sexual intercourse.”

  I nearly choked on her words. It was good to know. After all, my hormones were raging, but still, I didn’t exactly have the active sex life she assumed I had. “Thanks,” I replied as casually as possible.

  “Oh! And your blood work came back. Your hormone levels are right where they should be, which means the baby is growing stronger daily. I cannot speak for all pregnancies, but I rarely see miscarriages at this point with levels like this. This is good news, Monica. Still, just take your vitamins and follow the recommended food lists, okay?”

  “Okay, great. Thank you, Doctor Herrera.”

  “Anytime. I will see you back in three weeks for your second-trimester scan. That one will be fun. Then, at sixteen weeks, we can try to see the gender if you want, but don’t hesitate to reach out until then. Take care, Miss Stevenson.”

  “You too, thanks.” I hung up the phone and chewed my lower lip. I felt immensely better already, and surprisingly Crystal wasn’t the first person I felt like calling. That shocked me as I stared at my phone and contemplated sending Chris a message. He was an important guy and likely very busy. But surely a text was safe enough. He would see it when he had a chance, and he would want to know the good news, right? Right, I decided as I opened up my texting app.

  Doctor called. All is well with the baby. Thanks for coming over last night. There, a simple, straightforward message.

  The phone rang, and I yelped, looking down at my screen to see Chris’s name lighting up. Wow, that was fast.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.” His low, deep voice always did something to me. It was like a lead weight in my stomach but in a strangely pleasant way. “So, everything is okay?”

  “Yeah, she said it was just from the exam and that my blood tests look great. I can continue my usual activities—” I almost choked on my own saliva when I said those words. No sense in explaining that further. “No restrictions, aside from the obvious things.”

  “No drinking binges, then?” he said with amusement. “I’m glad to hear this, Monica. Even gladder that you told me right away.”

  “Okay, good. I did hesitate. You’re Christopher Farrington, CEO of F&S Marketing Services and all that jazz. I don’t want to interrupt important business.”

  “Nothing is more important to me than you and this child.”

  His words hung thickly in the air as we both went silent longer than necessary. “Th-thank you,” I stammered. This man had me off-kilter. He was sexy as hell; that was a given. But he was surprisingly attentive and caring, considering the way he took the news. Already, that felt like water under the bridge. The feelings I had swimming inside me were both overwhelming and frightening. I wanted things that I couldn’t understand. Suddenly I imagined a potential family with him, something that, only weeks ago, would have made me laugh until tears ran down my face. But nothing made you consider your life like preparing for a child. I couldn’t know Chris’s thoughts or feelings, and I didn’t dare to assume he felt the same way. He asked me out to dinner, sure. He was attracted to me, okay. But what I felt for him was beyond dinner dates and flirty glances.

  “I have a meeting now, unfortunately. I will have my phone on me. I want to see you after work. Is that okay?”

  “Uh, sure,” I said breathlessly.

  “Great. I will pick you up at six o’clock. Just rest until then and message me anytime you need.”

  “Okay, Chris. See you later.”

  We hung up, and all I could do was sigh and plop onto the edge of my bed, wondering what the hell was going on. I was falling in love with a man whose social class was so far above mine, I may as well be a gutter rat in his world. And yet, he didn’t treat me, or anyone else for that matter, as less than an equal. And, I had never felt inferior to him because I never cared to consider it. He was my brother’s friend and business partner who came over for dinners and holidays from time to time. Now, he was my child’s father and a man I knew could easily destroy my heart if I wasn’t careful.

  Charlie snorted beside me as he finally woke up and burrowed his wrinkly head into my hand.

  “I’m a mess, Char... such a mess.”

  Chapter Ten

  Chris

  THE RAPPING ON MY OFFICE door broke my concentration. I had been staring at the contracts from my lawyer all afternoon and suddenly looked at the clock. It was five 0’clock already. “Come in.”

  The door swung open, and Brent stuck his head inside my office. “Am I still allowed in?”

  I grunted and waved him in. Tension still surrounded us, but he seemed to have calmed down since our fight, understanding there was nothing he could do. Monica was pregnant, keeping the baby, and I was the father. He couldn’t prevent me from seeing her.

  “Did you see the new sales report?” Brent stepped into my office and shut the door behind him. I felt his hesitation and didn’t need an apology to know he felt terrible about his reaction to discovering Monica’s pregnancy. I couldn’t blame the guy. No apology was necessary.

  “Yeah, I did. Best quarter yet,” I said, looking at my watch and then smiling at him.

  “Crystal told me about Monica’s scare. Said you drove down to her place and stayed all night.”

  “I did, yes,” I replied, wondering why that should be so surprising.

  “Thank you. That was very good of you. I’m not sure I can explain how important Monica is to me. It’s more than siblings. Twins have a different relationship. I’m sorry I decked you.”

  “Brent.” Standing up from my seat, I came around my desk and leaned against it, crossing my arms. “There is no need to explain your relationship, nor apologize for your reaction. I should be the one apologizing to you. I know how you feel about Monica. Maybe I should have kept my distance, but I need you to understand something. This isn’t a casual thing for me. Monica means a lot to me, too, and has for a long time. I asked her out before I knew about the baby. Hell, she rejected me.”

  Brent bit back a smile and shook his head. “Leave it to my sister to reject the most eligible bachelor on the West Coast.”

  I scoffed and shrugged. I didn’t see myself that way, nor did I understand why others did. Money and status shouldn’t be the determining factors in eligibility. What if I was the next Ted Bundy? I wasn’t, but it never ceased to amaze me that I was considered a catch simply because of my stats on paper without considering anything else about me. “This baby means everything to me, and... so does Monica,” I admitted, feeling a bit lighter having said the words aloud.

  “Holy shit.” Brent’s brows rose high on his forehead, and a broad smile spread across his face. “You love her.”

  I didn’t answer him, only remained silent as I pondered this feeling, what it meant to know that I was well and truly in love with a woman for the first time in my life. Still, now that I realized the truth, the first person I was going to admit it to was Monica—not her brother.

  Clearing my throat, I stood up from the desk and looked at my watch again. “I need to head out.”

  “Why?” Brent asked with accusation in his voice. “You have a date or something?”

  “I do,” I said dangerously, not liking this side of Brent at all. He wasn’t my keeper. I understood his need to protect Monica, but our relationship was not his business.

  “Do I need to deck you again?” he warned and narrowed his eyes.

  “You need to hit the gym a bit more often and let out some of this aggression, Brent. My date is with your sister. I’m not seeing anyone else, nor have I any interest in doing so. And no, I’m not dating your sister, but I am trying to.”

  “Oh.” Brent nodded and crossed his arms. “Monica is stubborn.”

  “No shit,” I muttered. “But so am I.”

  “Good. She’s a pain in the ass, but she is worth the effort.” Brent smacked me on the arm and smiled before walking away. He had really come around to the idea of me dat
ing his sister, which I appreciated, but now I had to convince her.

  Grabbing my coat and some legal files to review later, I locked my computer and headed out of the office. I had just enough time to run home and freshen up before swinging by Monica’s place. Waiting for the elevator, I thought about the last time I had actually looked forward to a night out with a woman this much. Never. The answer came swiftly, making my stomach flip and dip. That’s how I felt with Monica. Like I was inside a plummeting elevator with no control, gripping onto smooth walls that did little to protect me from the inevitable outcome: a jolt that would bring me to my knees.

  Stepping off the elevator, I walked to the parking garage and got into my car, unusually frazzled and distracted by thoughts of a woman. Never had I wanted to be with a woman this badly, and never did I have to try so hard to win her affections. I liked that. I liked that she wasn’t digging her claws into me, dreaming of vacations, designer clothing, inheriting a society name. I would give all of that and more to Monica in a second, but the fact that she didn’t want it made me want to give it to her all the more.

  Arriving home, I parked in front of my house and swiftly ran up the steps, eager to change and get over to Monica’s. A quick shower, a change of slightly less formal attire, and I was out the door, keys in hand. I was running short on time, but there was no way I was showing up empty-handed. I knew a quick stop off at the local florist was necessary. If it made me a few minutes late, she would hopefully forgive me.

  My radio blared a power ballad and I turned it up, playing the drums on my steering wheel, something that would make my father cringe if he was here, but he wasn’t, and I was too excited for this date to care about proper manners. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt this carefree. I was going on a date with the woman I loved, and she carried my baby. A month ago, this entire situation would have seemed like a nightmare to consider. But what scared the shit out of me then only made my heart soar now.

  Pulling into her complex, I parked my car, grabbed the exotic bouquet of bright florals I purchased, and approached her condo with anticipation thrumming through me. But, that was replaced by confusion when I reached her front door. Wide open, the door had a set of keys dangling from the lock. Frowning, I removed the keys and looked at the jumbled mess, noticing the worn bottle opener keychain and another that said, “Sandy Side Golf Course.” Her pug barked in the background, but I couldn’t see any sign of Charlie or Monica.