Fortuity: A Standalone Contemporary Romance (The Transcend Series Book 3)

by Jewel E. Ann

  Instead of answering right away, I take another bite and study the fries. I shouldn’t have them. They’re not good for me. The ultimate comfort food. However, I don’t need comfort food with Nathaniel Hunt shirtless on the bed.

  Dropping the sandwich on the plate, I open one of the bottled waters, that’s not free, and drink part of it. “Steve went to my high school. He married the sister of the bride.” I screw the cap back onto the water. “They’re divorced now, but he was still invited to the wedding because their daughter was the flower girl. He spotted me at the bar Friday. Bought me too many glasses of wine. Felt the need to steady my wobbly gait as he walked me to the elevators and again when a crowd, including yourself, packed into it just after us. Then I saw you, chased you, obsessed about you, nearly orgasmed just from your proximity when you cornered me in the elevator yesterday, went to the wedding, thought about you the whole time, and the rest is history. Except today he saw me waiting in a long line for lunch and offered me a seat to join him and get some food in my belly a little sooner. You showed up, pissed all over me like your property, and here we are. I think that about covers everything.”

  The sexiest grin slides up his face. I shrug off my T-shirt and shimmy out of my shorts that are already unfastened. Then I climb onto his lap, straddling him.

  “You have less than an hour, Professor Hunt. What can you do with me in less than an hour?”

  His hands slide up my back, easily unhooking my bra. “A lot.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Nate texts me around four o’clock. I like that we’re texting now. It’s not as romantic as handwritten letters, but this is the age of instant gratification, and although I didn’t grow up with it like Gabe’s and Morgan’s generation, I still have a fond appreciation for it.

  Have your suitcase packed by 5.

  I respond.

  I’m booked through the week. Non-refundable.

  I’ll pay for your lost days.

  It’s my first time in Chicago. I haven’t seen much of it.

  His response is instant.

  You have an hour. Get to seeing shit and be ready by 5.

  I send him three more texts, but he doesn’t respond … to the first two.

  Why so bossy?

  Where are we going?

  I contemplate sending the last text. What if someone can see his phone?

  You’re the only man who has given me more than one orgasm during sex. Is it your vast knowledge … your eleven years of studying anatomy?

  He responds right away.

  You’re welcome.

  “So damn sure of yourself.” I laugh, tossing my phone on the bed then packing my stuff for destination unknown.

  By five, I’m in the lobby with my suitcase, butterflies in my tummy, and a ridiculous grin on my face. He steps off the elevator in cargo shorts, a white tee, and sunglasses on top of his head as he pulls his small suitcase behind him.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as he jerks his head in the direction of the revolving door.

  He says something to the valet before turning toward me.

  “Where are we going?” I try again.

  “You’re glowing today. Have you recently been well fucked by an anatomy professor?”

  I cough on my laugh as my head swivels in both directions to see if anyone heard him because he didn’t use his library voice at all.

  When I focus on him again, he bends down and presses his lips to mine, giving me a little peck and then another little peck. I like playful, flirty Nate. Well, I actually love him.

  He stands erect again and slides his sunglasses onto his face as a gust of wind catches his wavy hair and blows mine in my face.

  “This is us.” He takes my suitcase and his and rolls them toward the gray Mercedes-Benz SUV. The valet loads them into the back. Nate tips him then opens my door. Once he’s in the driver’s seat, seat belt fastened, and vehicle in drive, I glance at him and try it one more time.

  “Where are we going?”

  He grins, eyes on the road. “Home.”

  During the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Madison, we don’t say much. We listen to music. During part of the way, we have the windows rolled down. And occasionally Nate tells me random things that have happened since I last saw him … like Morgan freaking out when she got a puppy for Christmas. A shelter dog named Joby. They think she’s a German shepherd mix.

  I listen to him even though Morgan has told me most everything in her letters. The surreal feeling of him saying we’re going home has left me in a daze.

  “This is it.” He pulls onto a cul-de-sac shrouded in trees.

  I can barely see the houses tucked behind long drives. It’s not the kind of cul-de-sac I’m used to seeing. When his house comes into view, a slow smile creeps up my face. It looks like a chalet. A wood cabin that has more windows than wood. He pulls around to the side of the house to enter from the garage.

  After he kills the engine and presses the button to shut the garage door, I ease out of the vehicle and allow my squirrel brain to imagine—just for a second—that this is my home. Nate unloads our suitcases, and I follow him into the house.

  I slip off my shoes as he carries our suitcases to the opposite end of the house and disappears around the corner. Two-story ceilings in the great room with an enormous floor-to-ceiling stonewall fireplace separating the kitchen from the living space.

  “Where’s Morgan?” I ask as Nate makes his way toward me.

  “My parents’ house.”

  “Oh. You said they were watching her and Joby. I assumed you meant they were watching her here.”

  “Nope.” He slides his arms around my waist, pulling me flush to him.

  I lift onto my toes and bury my face into his neck. “Are you saying it’s just us?”

  He kisses my forehead. “It’s just us.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until tomorrow night.” He takes my hand and leads me to the sofa, plopping down and pulling me onto his lap so I’m straddling him, face-to-face.

  “Twenty-four hours, huh?” I tickle the nape of his neck with my fingers, running them through his partial curls. “Then what?”

  “I don’t know. When do you fly back to California?” He slides his hands under my shirt and feathers his fingertips along my lower back.

  “Thursday afternoon. I need to be to the airport by eleven.”

  “It’s Sunday.” He grins.

  “Yes …” I lean into him, giving his bottom lip a tug with my teeth. “Your point?”

  He gathers my hair into a ponytail and pulls it until I tip my chin up. “My point is I get you until Thursday.” He kisses my neck.

  “You get me until tomorrow. Then I’ll be hanging out with my BFF Morgan in her awesome tree house I see out back. And playing fetch with Joby.”

  “And at night, you’ll be riding my cock.” He sits back, twisting his lips. “Huh … did I say that out loud?”

  “Cute. You’d better clean that mouth up before your eleven-year-old daughter returns.”

  “I’ll return to my best behavior when they pull in the driveway … tomorrow.”

  “And today?”

  “Today I’m going to pop a few Viagra and see what I can do with an eight-hour erection and naked Elvis.”

  I fall into a fit of giggles. “Sounds painful … and really disturbing.”

  He returns to my neck where I love him the most. His chuckling tickles my skin. “How about a tour of the house?”

  “With or without the eight-hour erection?”

  He sucks my earlobe into his mouth and directs my hand between us to his erection. “I’d give it about twenty minutes.”

  “Then make the tour quick,” I whisper, rubbing my thumb over the head of it, eliciting a moan from him.

  “God … I love you.” He grabs my ass and rocks to standing with me hugged to him like a monkey. “Great room. Kitchen,” he says, without taking his gaze off me.

  “It’s nice.” I grin without l
ooking at the kitchen or the great room.

  He walks us down the wide hallway. “Office.”

  I hold on with one hand on his shoulder while running my other hand through his hair. “It’s amazing.” My gaze doesn’t leave his face. I’m sure it’s a fantastic office. I’ll see it later. “Guest room. Morgan’s room.”

  I tease my fingers along his scruffy jaw, brushing my thumb along his lips because his full lips are my addiction. “Uh-huh …” I suck in my lower lip. I’ve already seen Morgan’s room on video chat. The guest room can’t look that much different.

  “Bathroom.” He nips at my thumb.

  I feel it between my legs—that might be his erection.

  “Master bedroom.” He takes us into the bedroom and kicks the door shut. The first thing I get a good look at is the ceiling when my back hits the mattress.

  Skylights. Nice.

  *

  “I realize this is a little after-the-fact, but is this the bed you had with Jenna?” I walk my naked self from the bed to his walk-in closet. The light goes on automatically. “I’m going to snoop.” I glance over my shoulder.

  He’s rolled on his side, head propped up on his bent arm, sheet barely covering the goods. “Snoop away. And no. It’s a new bed.”

  I pull open several drawers and pluck out a soft tee of his, bringing it to my nose and then slipping it on. Nosing through a few more drawers, just because, I exit the closet. “Wisconsin guy with a Bears T-shirt.” I tip my chin down at the blue and orange football tee. “Interesting.”

  “Is it strange that I want to fuck you in it and never wash it again?”

  “No.” I saunter to the door and open it. “It’s strange that you think I’m not taking it back to California with me … because I totally am.” Now that I’m thoroughly satisfied, I re-check out the other bedrooms, bathrooms, his office, and finally the kitchen.

  His fridge could use some more food, but his gorgeous walk-in pantry has quite a bit of food. Grabbing whatever looks like it has potential, I lay out ingredients for dinner. A granola bar and two bites of a sandwich do not begin to replenish calories after having sex twice.

  “Can I help?” Nate makes his way to the kitchen in jeans … only jeans. His hair looks nearly as fucked as I feel.

  “I doubt it.” I open and close drawers and doors until I find what I need. “Do you like pasta with marinara?”

  “If you make it, I’ll like it.”

  “Good.” I glance up from the cutting board and onion.

  His face turns serious as he sits on the stool at the island. “It’s time.”

  “Time?” I chop the onion.

  “I thought … the other night there was a look exchanged. It felt clear at the time. At least to me. Now … I’m not so sure.”

  “Sure of what?”

  He runs his hands through his hair. “Gracelyn … don’t do this.”

  I stop cutting and set the knife on the board. “I’m not on the pill,” I whisper, keeping my gaze trained to him, looking for the slightest cringe, the tiniest flinch of regret or concern. “Tell me you didn’t assume I was.”

  He remains neutral as he shakes his head. “I didn’t assume it.”

  Curling my hair behind my ears, I lift my shoulder into a shrug. “So … what did you assume?”

  He glances away, somewhere over my shoulder. And I hate it because for the first time since that night, I feel like we didn’t just take a chance; we made a mistake. What if it can’t be unmade?

  After too many seconds of silence that open the door to all my repressed insecurities, I laugh.

  It’s a crazy laugh.

  A nervous laugh.

  A really fucking scared laugh.

  “Say something! Say ANYTHING!” My voice booms out of control as my breaths speed into total hyperventilation, riddled with panic. I grab my head, curling my fingers into my hair, taking a few wobbly steps backward. “I could be pregnant. PLEASE tell me this isn’t news to you. Please tell me—”

  “You’re pregnant?” Morgan steps around the corner from the back door to the garage.

  I heard nothing. When did she walk in? How much did she hear? Why is she here?

  “Morgan …” Nate flies off the stool and rushes to her, pulling her into a hug. “What are you doing here, baby?”

  I tug on the tee shirt, trying to pull it down. I’m not wearing anything beneath it. This is the second time she’s caught me in nothing but her dad’s shirt … in a kitchen. Only this time I’m not giving him head. Honestly, I think I’d prefer that to the pregnancy conversation. Maybe …

  It might be a tie.

  “What are you doing here?” She pulls away. “Is Gracelyn pregnant? Am I going to be a big sister? Please say yes. Please. Please. Please say yes!” She runs around the island and gives me a hug. “Oh my gosh … I’m so excited! Does Gabe know? Can I be the one to tell him? I hope it’s a girl or a boy … I don’t really care.” Letting go of me, she jumps up and down clapping her hands in front of her.

  “Mor-gan!” Nate says her name in a very stern voice.

  Her excitement plummets like a dead bird falling out of the sky.

  “Why. Are. You. Here?” He rests his hands loosely on his hips.

  “Oh …” Her forehead wrinkles. “I forgot my swimsuit and Grandma and Grandpa are going to take me to the pool. They’re waiting out in the car.”

  “Go to your room. Wait for me.” He points toward her room.

  She frowns, shuffling her flip-flop clad feet down the hall.

  He sighs. “I need to tell them it’s going to be a few minutes.”

  Pressing my lips together, feeling completely out of place, I nod, hugging my arms to my stomach.

  Nate’s eyebrows knit together, and he makes his way to me, cupping the back of my head and giving me a hard kiss. He pulls back just an inch, staying at my eye level. “I want a baby with you. A home. A life with you. Okay?”

  I swallow back my emotions. “K …” I whisper.

  He goes out the front door. I pick back up the knife and steady my shaky hand before continuing my chopping. A few minutes later, he comes back inside and heads straight to Morgan’s room.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Nathaniel

  “Why are you mad?” Morgan pouts, sitting on the edge of her bed without looking up at me after I shut her bedroom door.

  “I’m not mad. I just thought you needed a timeout. You were losing it, and honestly I think you were scaring Gracelyn.”

  “Did you…” she glances up at me “…have sex with her? You promised you would never lie to me about sex. You said I could ask you anything and you’d tell me the truth.”

  I’ve hidden very little from her over the years, but it was easier when she was younger and didn’t ask so many questions that nudged me to the edge of my comfort zone. Yes, I told her I would never lie to her about sex, but I also thought when I explained sex to her, she’d brush it off and not ask about it again for … maybe ever. And the realistic part of my brain that knew she would ask something just assumed it would be about her own sex life—asking to be put on birth control. I will of course say hell no.

  This … I never thought we’d be discussing my sex life because I never thought I’d have one again.

  “Yes.”

  Keep it simple.

  “Did you use a condom?”

  Fuck …

  “Because responsible people use condoms. And you are responsible. So if you didn’t use one, then that means you want to have a baby with Gracelyn, right?”

  When Morgan was five, she asked me how her mom died. I told her. Then she asked if she killed her mom. I assured her she didn’t. Years later, she asked about it again. Again, I told her the truth, but in that moment, she had her own opinion. And that opinion was that she was the reason her mom died. It wasn’t the truth. It also wasn’t a lie.

  That led to a conversation about risks and what is considered an acceptable risk. The other night, I wasn’t thinkin
g I wanted Gracelyn to get pregnant. I also wasn’t thinking I didn’t want her to get pregnant.

  It’s complicated.

  I kneel down in front of her, resting my hands on her legs. “I love Gracelyn, but you already know that. And …” I weigh my words for a few seconds. “She might be pregnant, but she might not be either. When people don’t know, they don’t tell anyone until they do know for sure. It’s starting a rumor that doesn’t need to be started.”

  “You don’t want me to tell Gabe.”

  I nod. “Not just Gabe. I don’t want you to tell anyone. Not your friends. Not Grandma and Grandpa. No one. Can you do that? Can you just pretend you never heard that? Because we really don’t know.”

  “If she is pregnant, are they moving here?” A hopeful smile blooms along her face.

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. We have a lot to discuss.”

  “Can I name it?”

  I chuckle. “Name what?”

  “The baby?”

  I lift an eyebrow. “What baby?”

  She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Fine.” Her fingers move across her lips like a zipper. “What baby?”

  I wink. “Exactly.”

  “Did you get Joby out of the backseat? Did Grandma and Grandpa go home? My stuff is still at their house.”

  “They’re outside. You’re going back there for the night.”

  “But you’re home.”

  I stand. “Yes. But I need some more time to talk about things with Gracelyn. Tomorrow afternoon, after you go swimming, I’ll come get you and Joby, and we’ll show Gracelyn our favorite things here in Madison.”

  “Fine.” She jumps off her bed and grabs her swimsuit from her closet.

  “Hey …” I stop her before she opens her bedroom door. Cupping her face, I smile. “I love you to infinity. And no matter what happens, I will be honest with you. Okay?”

  She wraps her arms around my waist. “Love you too, Daddy.”

  Daddy …

  I follow her out to the kitchen. Gracelyn still has on my shirt, but she’s put her shorts on too.