Bonded Duet: Ford & Belle: Torn Bond & Tied Bond (Easton Family Duet Boxsets Book 3)

Home > Contemporary > Bonded Duet: Ford & Belle: Torn Bond & Tied Bond (Easton Family Duet Boxsets Book 3) > Page 24
Bonded Duet: Ford & Belle: Torn Bond & Tied Bond (Easton Family Duet Boxsets Book 3) Page 24

by Abigail Davies


  She stood, so I stood too. “If you have any more questions, you can call me anytime.” She moved around her desk to stand beside me. “In the meantime, you could take a look at some books in the library.”

  So much information was going around and around in my head, and I wasn’t sure I was processing it. I’d read the baby magazines Leopold had delivered into the store, but that was about it, and I was starting to realize how unprepared I was. I’d stuck my head in the sand, and now was the time to research it to death.

  “Call me if you need anything,” Dr. Ponts said and squeezed my shoulder. I nodded as I turned and walked toward the door, not able to say anything else because all I could think about was the actual birth. I’d briefly thought about what would happen when the baby was here, but I hadn’t factored in what I’d have to do before that.

  I wasn’t really sure what else she said as I left because I was in a daze. A fog had descended, and for the first time since I’d come here, I had a purpose and a mission. My shift at the store was due to start in an hour, so I had time to go to the library, which was on the other end of Main Street.

  I crossed the road and picked up my pace as I walked past the store and then the diner. I kept my head down because I knew if I made eye contact with only one person, I’d lose precious minutes. And as I walked inside the library and waved at Beryl, who was manning the main desk, I felt a weight lift off my chest. Knowledge was power, and I was ready to become the most powerful I’d ever been.

  BELLE

  My eyes opened, my body ready to be awake thanks to its new internal alarm clock. For the last ten nights, I’d woken up at three in the morning needing to empty the bladder the baby was pressed against. It wasn’t only annoying to have my sleep disturbed, but also an entire ordeal to get out of bed.

  I’d taken to having a mountain of pillows with me as well as a comforter and an added blanket for when I was cold. I had one pillow to place my feet on to help with my swollen ankles, one for between my legs, and another one underneath my bump. Then there was the one I held to my chest, and finally, the two under my neck. The pillows took up more space than I did, but there was a method to my madness—a comfort method.

  Sitting up with little effort was no longer in the cards, so I rolled to the side and disposed of two pillows on the floor, then heaved up into a half-sitting half-lying position. It took me longer to actually get out of the bed than it would to pee. By the time I was standing, I’d used up all of my energy and wanted nothing more than to get back into bed, but a few kicks from the baby had me moving out of my room.

  I waddled past Curtis’ bedroom to the bathroom and sighed as I held on to the towel rail attached to the wall beside the toilet. At one stage, I debated taking a nap here, because at least that way I wouldn’t have to get back into bed and then out of it when I would inevitably wake up in another couple of hours. But it was the pins and needles in my feet that finally had me moving off the toilet.

  I washed my hands and forwent looking in the mirror. It was bad enough when I wasn’t half-asleep, never mind in the middle of the night. Apparently, it was normal to have a little swelling on your face, and I didn’t actually mind it. It was the swelling elsewhere I hated. Mainly my feet.

  Pulling open the bathroom door, I switched the light off and then started to walk back to my bedroom, but murmuring voices had me halting. I tilted my head to the side, trying to place where they were coming from, and stared at Curtis’ bedroom door. He hadn’t been at work tonight, which meant he was home. Or at least, I thought he was. I hadn’t heard him go out before I went to sleep, but maybe he had company over. Sandy from the diner did say they spent “alone” time together. So maybe it was her?

  Frowning, I shuffled closer to his door and pressed my ear against it. It didn’t sound like the voice of a woman, but two men whispering back at forth—or at least, trying to whisper. I knocked gently on his door and whispered, “Curtis?” I didn’t know what I was expecting. Maybe he’d just fallen asleep with his TV on. After all, he did have the master bedroom. Curtis had insisted I take it when we’d first gotten here, but I’d declined, preferring to have a smaller space. Less space felt safer.

  The longer I listened, the more I realized it didn’t sound like it was coming from his room, but through it. So I knocked a second time, and when I didn’t get an answer, I pushed the door open. His bedside light was on, but Curtis’ bed was empty, the comforter pulled aside. And more importantly, the voices were now louder. I squinted to try and see through the dim light. The TV was off, and the sliding door, which led out onto a small balcony, was ajar.

  I hadn’t thought about the sliding door to his room…and it was only then that I realized there were more entry points to the cabin than I’d first realized. When we’d first come here, I hadn’t even thought about it at all because I’d been thinking about the past. A past which I was sure wouldn’t have followed me, not after I’d taken all the necessary steps to disappear. But now I was so much more aware of it all. Maybe it was because I was starting to understand the temporary situation we were in was slowly becoming permanent with my due date fast approaching.

  I understood that it didn’t matter how far I went, I would always be Belle Easton. I would still be the daughter of a DEA agent, and I would always have a child whose father had died. I didn’t have the protection here that I had at home, and it was like a smack in the face that had my legs wobbling as I stumbled to the side.

  I stood there, my feet glued to the spot as I tried to listen to what was being said. A shadow moved from outside, followed by a second one, and my eyes widened. Someone was out there with him. But why were they out there in the first place? Part of me wanted to retreat, but the part of me that was inquisitive wanted to move closer and try to make out what they were saying. I could only imagine what Ford or my dad would have done if they’d have been here. There was no way they’d have shied away. They’d have moved forward and found out who it was and what they were doing here.

  The wind whistled through the gap in the door and the leaves rustled. The ticking clock from the living room was the loudest it had ever been, and I could hear my pulse thrumming in my ear. But I had to push all of that aside to hear them. The voices were getting louder, and I could make out every few words now.

  “You haven’t…answering…calls,” a new voice said. My hands started to shake, but I didn’t move. I wasn’t sure whether it was because I wanted to know who these people were, or if it was because I was scared I’d make a noise and alert them to my whereabouts.

  I heard some mumbling, but could only make out the word tomorrow, and I knew it was Curtis talking now. He said something else, but I couldn’t make it out, and then the shadows moved again, getting bigger as they came closer to the sliding doors. I panicked and slapped my hand over my mouth as I quickly backed out of his room and closed the door.

  Pressing my back against the hallway wall, I listened as he closed the sliding door and gritted out, “Fuck.” His footsteps echoed from inside, and it was only about a minute later when I could still hear them that I realized he was pacing. He was talking under his breath, but with the door and walls separating us, all I could make out now was the odd curse word.

  I frowned and looked down at my feet, at least, I thought it was where my feet were because I couldn’t see them over the bump. No one had ever come to the cabin, and Curtis had never mentioned anyone.

  I held my fist in front of his door. If I knocked and asked who it was, he’d know I was listening. And what if it was private? Or maybe it was his secret. They said he hadn’t been answering calls. Maybe I was holding him back from a life he had to get back to, and whoever had come here was telling him to go home.

  Was this my fault? Was he waiting to start a job? Or maybe his mom missed him. He said his dad was a businessman, so was he needed to help him?

  I lowered my hand and bit down on my bottom lip. I’d thought coming here would make my life easier. I’d escaped the pain
that had smacked me in the face and knocked me completely off my feet, but I hadn’t counted on it following me. It was harder being away from the people who loved me most, but I hadn’t factored in the way Curtis felt.

  And as I stood there, knowing I was holding him back, I couldn’t bring myself to confront him about it. If I opened the conversation now, everything could fall apart, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it.

  But then, I wasn’t ready for this baby, and it was coming whether I liked it or not. So maybe this was the first thing I needed to tackle. Maybe this would be the first step into my journey out of hiding.

  My feet inched backward, my body telling me not to do it tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Tomorrow I could ask Curtis if he needed to go home, but tonight…tonight I’d pretend everything was right in the world, and I’d go back to my bed full of pillows.

  Chapter Twenty

  BELLE

  I placed my feet on the ottoman in front of the dark-brown leather sofa and pulled the book closer to my face as I read about colic in babies. I had no idea what colic was, but apparently, it was a bad thing. This was just one of many things I’d been enlightened to while reading the pregnancy and baby books. The books had consumed me from the time I woke up this morning, and now it was late afternoon, and I was still only a quarter way through all of the information I needed to take in.

  Curtis hadn’t come out of his bedroom yet, but I’d heard the water running about ten minutes ago, which meant he was getting ready for work. I wasn’t even sure he was aware I was still here, but I hadn’t moved from my spot for at least two hours now, and a bathroom break would be needed real soon.

  I flipped the page and came to a diagram of a mother burping a baby, and I wondered how old these books actually were from the dated graphics. But I was sure it didn’t matter the age because a baby was a baby, and things surely couldn’t have changed that much.

  A door opened in the cabin and footsteps neared. Curtis appeared in the doorway to the living room. He halted, and I glanced up at him. “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I held up the book, which had a picture of a baby in the womb on the front cover, acting like this was any other day. But it wasn’t. I was ready to talk to him about the future and what would happen from here on out. I was ready to face things head-on and not keep burying my head in the sand. At least I hoped I was ready. “Reading about babies.” I shuffled to the edge of the sofa. “I didn’t realize the number of things I needed to know.”

  Curtis raised his brows and moved closer, but still kept his distance. His hair was wet, and he’d pushed it off his face, but the longer length would soon be curling around his ears as it dried. “Like what? Changing diapers?”

  “They actually have a section on that in here.” I chuckled, trying to distract myself from the thoughts in my head that were screaming to ask him who he was talking to last night. I couldn’t just blurt it out. “They have pros and cons to disposable and washable diapers.” I pulled a face and shivered as I remembered reading about how to wash used diapers. “I’m using disposable because gross.”

  Curtis screwed up his nose. “Erm, yeah.” He shook his head. “How was your appointment yesterday?”

  “Good.”

  He nodded and walked into the kitchen. I didn’t expect anything else from him because he didn’t talk about the baby, or the pregnancy, or who the baby’s dad was. If he didn’t say it out loud, then it wasn’t happening—that was what I had wanted. But ever since yesterday, I realized it wasn’t realistic or mature. I was acting like the kid I’d been and not the adult I’d become.

  I had to face reality, and it needed to start now.

  “So…” I closed the book and placed it on top of the pile on the coffee table. “I heard some voices last night.” I was careful not to look him in the eyes, but I didn’t know why. Maybe I was scared of what I would find if I did.

  “You did?” His voice was closer now, and when I looked up, I saw his back was to me, so maybe he didn’t want me to look into his eyes either.

  “Yeah.” I left that hanging in the air as he opened the refrigerator and pulled something out. “I had to go to the bathroom and heard someone. I couldn’t make out what you were all saying, but…I just wondered…”

  Curtis blew out a breath, his back expanding and his shoulders bunching up to his ears. “Who it was?”

  “I…yeah,” I whispered. I clutched my hands in my lap, feeling the nerves rolling through me, and the baby kicked, almost as if it felt them too. “It’s okay if you don’t want to—”

  “They were friends from home.” He paused as he turned around slowly, and I glanced at his face, trying to spot something which would indicate if he was telling the truth, but I couldn’t see anything. Nothing at all.

  “Home,” I murmured. “Do you…do they want you to go home?” I stood slowly, waiting for his answer, but when he didn’t give me one, I continued, “Because if you have to go home, that’s fine. I…I’ll be fine here alone, and—”

  “What about when the baby comes?” he interrupted. “You’ll need help when the baby comes.”

  He had a point, but I didn’t want to put that responsibility onto him. He hadn’t gotten us into this situation. I had. “Maybe…” I pulled in a breath, scared to say the next words. “Maybe we should both go home?”

  He stepped toward me, his lips flattening into a straight line. “Is that what you really want?” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “You want to go home to…what? Ford isn’t there. So why?”

  “Well…” I wasn’t sure how to answer him. I hadn’t expected him to get so defensive, but hearing him utter Ford’s name had my shoulders drooping. “We were only meant to be here for the summer, and now it’s over. So, maybe we should go back to our own lives. This was only meant to be temporary.”

  Curtis was quiet for so long I wasn’t sure he was going to answer me, but he finally ground out, “There’s nothing for you there, but if you want to go home, then I’ll take you.” He grabbed his leather jacket off one of the dining chairs. “I can’t talk about this shit all day. I’ve got to go to work.”

  “O…okay,” I whispered, feeling like I’d just been told off for eating a jumbo bag of chips right before dinner. He flung open the front door and stepped outside. “I’m sorry, Curtis.” I could barely make the words out, but I knew he heard me because he halted. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected him to do, but it wasn’t to walk out without saying another word. He was upset. I just didn’t understand why.

  This was only a temporary thing, but maybe he didn’t want to go home. Maybe he was using me as an excuse so he didn’t have to. Was I in the wrong for suggesting it? I’d only been thinking about reaching out to my mom the last day or two, at least seriously anyway. Maybe I was being selfish by only thinking about what I wanted?

  Sagging against the back of the sofa, I stared at the front door as I listened to his car start. And even though part of me wanted to go out there and tell him we’d stay as long as he wanted, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. My head was a jumble of thoughts. I wasn’t sure what was the right or wrong thing to do. It didn’t matter how long I stood here and debated it because it wouldn’t change a thing.

  So instead of spending the rest of the night mulling over the few words spoken between us, I scooped up my books, grabbed my purse, pushed my feet into my tennis shoes, and left the house. Leopold would be closing up the store by now, so if I did the three-minute walk to his house, I’d get there just before him. Maybe he’d cook me some of his homemade pasta. I was eating for two, and the baby wanted it too.

  Just as I was about to turn into his driveway, I spotted him turning the corner. “Hey!” I shouted, and it echoed around the open space.

  I could see his grin from this far away, and the closer he got, the bigger it became. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he greeted, taking the books out of my arms immediately. “What are these?”

  “Baby books,” I told him as we walked side by side
up his driveway. It was a circular drive that held two cars, though I’d only seen him drive a handful of times. The large wraparound porch was the type you saw in the movies, and the yellow and white siding screamed spring and summer, but I knew he had plans of painting it a burnt orange in the next couple of weeks.

  “Hmmm, I don’t believe I’ve read these.” He turned them to stare at the spines. “Maybe this one.” He pointed to the middle one and snorted. “I’m lying. I’ve never read them.”

  I cracked a real smile, the first one that day, and my shoulders started to loosen. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until that moment, and apparently, it was glaringly obvious because he halted in front of his door and tilted his head to stare at me. He didn’t need me to say any words, and I didn’t need him to either. He could sense it, just like my dad and Ford had always been able to. Maybe that was why I was so drawn to Leopold? Because he reminded me of them, or at least, an older, more eccentric version.

  “Pasta?” he asked, already knowing, and I nodded vigorously.

  I followed him inside the vast entryway, the dark wooden flooring shining so much it hurt my eyes. I’d been inside his home so many times that I almost felt more comfortable here than at the cabin, most likely because of the company.

  We walked through the living room, which had floor-to-ceiling books on one side and various items he’d collected on his travels around the world, and into the attached dining room, and then finally into the kitchen that was twice the size as the other rooms and backed out onto the back porch.

  Leopold placed the books on the breakfast nook counter and pulled a high-backed chair out for me. “Sit.” I did as I was told, and he squeezed my shoulder, then moved toward the sink to wash his hands. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re strung tighter than a guitar?” He turned suddenly, his eyes as wide as saucers. “It’s not the baby, is it?”

 

‹ Prev