“Why don’t you guys take off?” I tell the twins, entertained by how quickly their subtle shock shifts to amused acquiescence.
With a gleam in his pale green eyes, Jason jumps off his chair. “Well, we’re gonna head out. I didn’t want this drink anyway.”
I stifle a grin.
Justin winks at her. “Interesting to see you again, Cora.” He smacks my shoulder on his way out. “See you soon, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
As soon as we’re alone, Cora softens. “How’s Jeremy?”
“Good.” I take Justin’s abandoned seat, and languidly lift my scotch to my lips with my elbows on the bar. “His unit is in a peace zone right now. We Skyped two weeks ago. Mom tries twice a week.”
She smiles sarcastically before licking a drip of condensation from her red-tipped finger. “I bet he loves that.”
“You don’t know anything about our family, Cora,” I grumble, instantly protective.
“Touchy! What’s wrong with you tonight?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, that was convincing.” She readies herself for another retort, but wisely decides it’s not going to get her what she wants. “You look good,” she says, instead.
I glance down to my black t-shirt and ripped blue jeans. The shirt is tighter than I like because the dryer did a number on it. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”
Leaning in with sex all over her, Cora purrs, “Which is why I know how good you look, especially underneath all this unnecessary clothing.”
I get a whiff of sweet perfume floating off her. It’s subtle, but all it does is remind me of how good Rachel smelled in my soap.
It’s as if she’s right in front of me, her blue eyes sparkling up at me as her wavy hair splayed out on my pillow. What the fuck is going on with me?
Blinking away from Cora back to my Scotch, I mutter, “You still completely shaved?”
“I am.”
“Drink up.”
Taking one small sip she sets the mostly-full martini onto that napkin and watches me down my glass and slam it on the counter. Slipping her hand through my arm, I pay for the tab and lead her out of here.
There’s a bridge from this to the structures that house the restaurants JCT Kitchen, Jeni’s Ice Cream and Bacchanalia. It’s a romantic walk, the buildings darkly lit and well constructed ahead and the view of railroad tracks far below.
Because of this there are always a lot of pedestrians crossing it.
As we near the start I pull her away and back to where there’s a dark, closed business with no one inside, and where people walking on the bridge can’t see.
Cora’s into it and soon we’re making out like she didn’t scream, “I never want to see you again, Jaxson Cocker!” the last date we had.
She’s purring my name in between desperate kisses, and the desperation is all mine.
I groan into her neck, “Rachel…”
Cora goes stiff then pushes me off her. “What did you just say?”
“Fuck,” I grate, running my hands through my hair to smooth down the mess her clawing made.
She’s so appalled her demand is hoarsely whispered, “Who the hell is Rachel?! Did you seriously just call me another woman’s name?”
She has no idea Rachel is the Rachel, the one who was her close friend way back then. The one she accused me of liking when I ignored her in middle school. The one she always wanted to hate but couldn’t because Rachel was so likable.
The Rachel I can’t stop thinking about.
“I’m sorry. Your name is Cora. I know that. You know I do. I’ve known you for almost thirty years.” Her eyes are as round as plums and her skin is starting to look that color. “Fuck. Look. This was a mistake.”
I’m sure this has never happened to Cora. A lot of men would happily climb that tree, and they’d be thinking of no one else. Just of how lucky they were. Like how I felt when Rachel was in my arms.
Uncharacteristically vulnerable, she whispers, “Jaxson, what is happening?”
I clasp a firm hand on her shoulder. “I’m a dick, that’s what;s happening. I shouldn’t have done this. I—”
“—You were using me to get over some woman named Rachel!”
“Fuck.” I cross my arms, feeling terrible. “Okay, look Cora, I’m sorry. I really am. I’m in a bad place.”
“You were always distant, Jaxson, but never cruel.”
“Guess we’re all capable of anything.”
She stares, smoothing down her dress and holding her head high. “Yes, we are.”
“Forgive me.”
Her eyes have that dazed look people get after a car accident. She thinks about it, staring at me before she finally sighs, “I forgive you. But…” She smoothes down her hair, staring off before she locks eyes with me. “Don’t use people, Jaxson. It’s not okay.”
My head bows as she walks past me, heels ticking along the concrete path to the bridge.
“Let me walk you to your car.” I catch up with her, and we walk together like strangers.
My hands are in my pockets.
Hers clutch her purse.
When we finally get to her red Mercedes she turns to me.
“If you’re so into this Rachel, why did you let her go?”
I don’t have an answer for that, and she’s shakes her head like she doesn’t expect one.
She sighs, staring off at dozens of silent, parked cars. “Jaxson, you Cocker boys are such islands. Your family is incredibly insulated – no one can touch you. But you don’t care because you don’t need anyone. Isn’t that what you told me? ‘I don’t need anything or anyone outside of what I have?’ Well, it sounds like you might have found a woman who put a chink in your armor. Why don’t you let her in it?”
She gracefully climbs into the sleek vehicle knowing I’m going to shut the door for her like I always did. Our eyes lock as she slides the key in the ignition. “Think on that offer I told you about. He’s got serious money and it would take some of the burden off you.”
“Cora, let me make something clear. That land is my soul. I’m not selling it.”
I shut the door and watch her car’s glowing red taillights drive away until they disappear.
Pulling out my phone I bring up Rachel’s 212-number. My thumb hovers for several excruciating seconds.
I shove the damn thing back in my pocket and sit down right here in the parking lot with my head in my hands.
Rachel
“Noooooo,” I whisper as I stare at the slender plastic stick. Shuffling through the small paper bag, I pull out the backup pregnancy test I bought just in case this one was a lying sack of...
Three minutes later, there’s another positive result.
Define ‘positive.’
“This isn’t happening,” I breathe, rising from the side of our bathtub to stare at my reflection.
It was the nausea that made me wonder.
Three days of wishing I could replace my stomach with someone else’s, every smell inspiring vomit – that’s what had me worried.
But last night when Ryan made a move on me and had to jump back as I puked all over the duvet, I knew I had a big problem on my hands. And it wasn’t the vodka from his law firm’s party.
“Sylvia,” I whisper into my cell phone.
“It’s six o’clock! Why are you calling me?” she groans in her deepest voice.
“I’m pregnant.”
I hear her jump up, pitch rising. “WHAT?!! Oh my God.”
Feeling as though the bathroom is turning upside with me in it I whisper so he can’t hear me, “Ryan said he’s not ready to be a father.”
“Rachel…is it even his?”
Tears start streaming.
It’s been eight long weeks since I was in Jaxson’s arms and not once has he called me.
With the dam breaking, I quietly whimper, “I was just starting to get my life back. I’m in the middle of a book on Peru. Ryan and I have been doing so well!”
“Have you? Because honey, when we all hung out Monday you didn’t seem very happy.”
“Oh God.” I quietly put the toilet lid down so I can sit with my arms around my head, the cell clutched to my ear. “What am I gonna do?”
“Call Jaxson.”
“No.”
“Call him!”
“No. I can’t. Even if it was his, if he doesn’t want me then he certainly doesn’t want this baby.” We sit in silence. “I’ll call you later.”
“I’m here if you need me.”
Facing my reflection I stare at the bags under my eyes. She’s right. I’m not happy. I haven’t been. I’ve been faking all of this. Writing has always been my joy, second only to reading, but writing about that retreat in Peru has been unnaturally hard considering how deeply I loved being there.
The sound of the coffee grinder sounds from the kitchen and I walk out to where Ryan’s humming to himself in his sweats, no shirt, dark hair mussed up from sleeping soundly.
He glances over. “Hey beauty. Feeling better today?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Ryan’s hand freezes on the French press and he blinks away from me. “Oh.”
Oh?
Jeez.
Who am I kidding? I feel the same.
Before our fight I’d been in denial about how little time we spent together, and how I wasn’t truly happy. You can convince yourself of a lot when you’re a creature of habit. We’d become one together, he and I, but I didn’t know that until I stepped outside of our rut and did something crazy.
And Jaxson Cocker would of course be the instigator of ‘crazy’ for me.
Holding up the two sticks, Ryan stares at the impossible to ignore, pink plus-symbols. He nods and sucks on his lips, pouring the ground beans into the press and the boiling water over them.
“How did this happen, Rachel? I mean, I’m happy about it…but I thought we were using condoms for a reason.”
Shit. I didn’t even think about the fact that Jaxson and I didn’t use any.
How did I let that slip my mind?
Because I was deliriously happy. That’s why.
Oh my God. That means this baby is Jaxson’s.
“They’re not impervious,” I whisper, feeling terrible.
Ryan nods. “True. And we did use those old ones when we ran out.” Off my expression, he reminds me, “The ones from my old wallet? Remember when we went searching for it right before that trip to your parents?”
“The night of Avalon’s party,” I whisper.
My travel-book publishing house had a wild night where they rented out an empty loft space and featured for the fun of it a burlesque show, one that caused Ryan and I to get a little hungrier for each other than usual with all that fun sexual energy flying around.
Hell, we’d almost done it in the public bathroom at the event.
Trying to be a trooper, he forces a smile. “Well, if our child was conceived that night, it’s going to be a handful.”
The timing of this revelation is terrible.
It means this baby might be Ryan’s.
What do I do if it is?
How do I even know if it is?
Tossing the sticks in the trash, I watch Ryan pull down two cups. He pauses and puts one away. His eyes are distant, thoughts miles into a future he said he doesn’t want.
“What are you thinking? I know you said…” I can’t even finish the damn sentence.
Ryan sighs and places both hands on the counter, the muscles in his arms tightening as he rests his weight on them and stares ahead. “Rachel, I wasn’t ready to be a dad, but sometimes things happen.” He locks eyes with me. “What do you want to do?”
“It might not be yours.”
I did not plan to say that.
My lips part in surprise.
He blinks and rasps, “What?”
I have been holding that in for two months and now is when it slips out?
Unable to take it back and not even sure I want to, I whisper a shame-filled, “The night you left Atlanta…”
Before I can say more Ryan explodes. “You fucked him?!” Pacing around our small kitchen, he dents the fridge with his fist. “And here I thought they would have kept him in jail for the night.” Flipping around, he shouts, “I even thought about that. Hope they leave him in or maybe Rachel would have fucked him just to get back at me. That actually went through my head!” Cutting a furious look to me he snarls, “I should have known. I should have fucking known. You’ve been different ever since!”
“And you’ve been the same.”
“Because I’ve been trying to make a future for us!!”
“A future you said you didn’t want.”
“Don’t pull that shit on me.”
I’m too tired to pretend anymore. I just shrug, “You said it. You meant it. And your actions always showed it way before you had the courage to voice it to me. You weren’t exactly happy when I said I was pregnant.”
He jams a finger at me. “With someone else’s baby!”
“I don’t know that for sure,” I mutter, knowing how lame it sounds.
“Fuck this shit!” He grabs his head and spins away from me toward the cabinets. “I can’t believe this.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah. You’re sorry,” he groans. “Sure.”
“Ryan, I’m not your first priority. I never have been. I just didn’t know it until you told me.”
He spins around. “If you want to get to the top you have to make sacrifices, Rachel. You knew when we started dating that I wanted to be partner and that means eighty, sometimes hundred-hour workweeks and being there whenever I’m needed. You were fine with it then. When did that change?!”
“I really need to wash my hands.”
He motions to the sink.
I walk over feeling like a deer approaching an aimed rifle.
As the water runs over my soapy hands we are quiet.
He hands me a towel and I thank him, stepping backwards to put some distance between us.
“I’m just not happy, Ryan,” I whisper.
His voice is barely contained. “Did he make you happy?”
Happier than I want to have felt.
But I won’t rub that in Ryan’s face especially since it doesn’t mean anything now that Jaxson’s never once reached out to me.
“It was an escape.”
“Jesus,” Ryan grates, walking past me. “That’s just great. You need a vacation from me? Take as long as you want!” I follow him into our bedroom where he pulls down my suitcase. “Here! Go!”
There is so much pain exploding between us. “Fine.” I trudge to my dresser and yank open the top drawer, throwing panties and bras on our unmade bed.
“You don’t know if the baby is mine,” he groans. “I’m hurting here.”
I stop and hold onto the dresser, tears slipping down my cheeks. There was a time when I loved him. When what he had to give was enough. But I know I was lying to myself back then. Over time Ryan Morrison’s love for his job over family would have driven me fucking crazy and we would have gotten divorced.
And yet still, I do not want to hurt him. Especially when I’m hurting just as badly. There’s a child coming. And we might be connected to each other for the rest of our lives.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan. I can’t believe this happened to us.”
“You should have thought of that before you let that fucking lowlife stick his cock in you!”
Like he lit a flaming match to dynamite, I blow up. “DON’T CALL HIM A LOWLIFE!”
“Oh fucking great. You’re going to defend that piece of shit now? Huh? Oh, and I guess he wasn’t your ex, either, huh? That bullshit about knowing him in grade school was a crock, wasn’t it?!”
Tossing my clothes at the suitcase I growl, “I didn’t lie about that to you. He was a childhood friend, maybe a crush, but I didn’t lie to you.”
“No, you just climbed into his bed the first second I wanted
out.”
I scream, “You wanted out!” Grabbing my stomach, I realize this baby doesn’t need a screaming match in its DNA. “Ryan, we’re done arguing. Go have your coffee and do what you love most. Work.”
He glares at me then mutters, “Fucking slut,” and storms out of the room.
I shut the door and start to sob.
Jaxson
The sound of a car driving up to my home in the quiet evening rouses me.
I set my book on the coffee table, and rise to see who it could be. Alberto wasn’t scheduled to come by today at all and he never comes at night. Visitors are a rarity here.
Opening the door that faces west I step into a stunning pink and gold sunset as a yellow cab kicks a fog of dust into it, parking eight feet from my porch.
The back door opens and Rachel steps out, her beautiful blue eyes rising to meet mine.
I make quick strides down the three steps onto the gravel. “Rachel,” I groan, so happy to see her.
“Jaxson,” she whispers, shaking her head with questions in her eyes. I don’t know what she’s doing here but by the rate my blood sped up to I can’t wait to find out.
Pulling my wallet from my back jeans pocket I pay the man, glancing to the suitcase waiting on the torn backseat.
“Let me get that,” I say from a distant place.
She steps back and shares a quiet look with me before I climb halfway in to grab it. Handing her the purse she’d left behind, I tell the driver, “Thank you. Have a good one.”
“You too,” he waves before trailing more dust in his wake.
Rachel walks slowly back with me to the house. “Is it okay if I stay with you a couple days?” she whispers like she’s embarrassed to ask.
I rasp, “Of course,” and open the door for her to enter first. As she passes me I breathe her in, the scent I’ve missed so badly permeating my senses. Struck speechless, I set the suitcase under the iron coat hooks by my front door. The screen slams behind me and Rachel jumps.
I quickly mutter, “I still have to fix that,” fixated on her.
“It’s fine.” White knuckles hold her purse as she slowly walks to the center of my living room, setting the small bag down by the book I was reading.
Cocky Cowboy: A Second Chance Romance (Cocker Brothers of Atlanta Book 3) Page 8