Hold Onto Me_A Secret Baby Romance

by Juliana Conners

  Chapter 28

  Juliet

  A few days later. Albuquerque New Mexico. Veterans and family affairs law firm.

  After taking a day to get myself together when I first arrived in Albuquerque, I’ve now gone to the law firm in Albuquerque specializing in veteran and family affairs. The law firm I was referred to by the receptionist in New York, who has friends Brynn and Riley at the helm.

  Despite my anxiety, it was really easy to schedule an appointment with Riley. Even on such short notice as I did. He opened up space for me with no problem.

  Just shy of 1 o’clock, I walk in through the doors and to the receptionist desk. The man stationed behind the computer seems to know who I am before I’ve even introduced myself. He is dressed very snazzy. Gray suit, great time and bright pink dress shirt. Matching gray dress shoes. “Here to see Riley?”

  I nod, folding my hands awkwardly. I’m actually in a skirt and blouse today. Something I haven’t worn in forever.

  “Miss Juliet Rez, I presume?”

  I nod again, and the male receptionist stands up from his roller chair and escorts me to a very fancy-looking office. With the name Riley Smith on a gold plaque right outside.

  He knocks lightly on the door frame, immediately catching the attention of another nicely dressed man seated in a large mahogany desk. Unlike a lot of men that I’ve seen working in and around military affairs, his hair is a little longer than most. Actually has enough to put it up in a tiny ponytail. His face is clean-shaven though. Sharp-featured. Gorgeous. Like a velociraptor and a Prince put together. Lots of angles. Yellow-gold eyes, and a mouth and nose that’s almost as slim as his cheeks and chin. Still, he’s not as ruggedly gorgeous or muscled as Brandon.

  As he comes over to guide me into his office, I feel embarrassed. Angry at myself for lusting at him, even after I abandoned him. Ran away without a single word as to why.

  “Juliet, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” I say quietly as he takes my hand and dismisses the receptionist.

  “Really glad that you could come and see me today,” he adds, closing the door quietly behind us and leading me to an overstuffed chair in front of his desk. As he guides and places me in to the chair and takes his place back behind his desk, he smiles. Relaxes his posture, and takes out a folder he started for me. “We can definitely help you out with your father’s estate and any other legal documentation in regards to the execution of his will and testament.” He flips through the papers he has. “We can definitely also help you file the paperwork, and find the necessary other people to help you manage his assets, if that’s something you also need help with.”

  I nod. “I will need help with managing his assets. Particularly the house in Albuquerque.” I pause, hating the knife of sadness that goes through my heart here. That was my childhood home. That was my safe space. But I know it has to be sold. That, and everything else in it. It’s the only way I’m gonna have enough money for the baby in six months’ time when it’s born. The medical bills. Hospital bills. Food, clothing medicines. “It needs to be sold sooner rather than later. Everything else needs to go, too.”

  Riley nods somberly. “That’s fine. That’s fine. We have people we can get to help you with that.” He clears his throat. “But first, we need to file the paperwork that will allow you to get the money he set aside for you and your mom. Two separate amounts. So, I’m gonna need to have you sign these documents for me.” Saying this, he brings out a small stack of papers from the folio, and displays them across my part of the desk. He hands me a shiny looking pen, which I take and sign without reading too much of. “Now, there will be fees and other things associated with me doing this work for you, miss Juliet.” He pauses, seeing my bit of hesitation. “But if you work for the foundation — the charity that we do work through — New Hope Veteran’s Association — if you volunteer for us there, we’ll cover your legal fees for you then you won’t have to pay anything for any paperwork with file, any people we get to help you liquidate assets, that kind of thing.”

  I almost laugh out loud. I can’t be sure, but that sounds like the same charity, Association, that Brandon was trying to get me to get up with before I ran out on him with the baby he doesn’t know I have. I almost laugh out loud, but I don’t. The most I do is hum. And to think I tried everything to treat the charity as if it had nothing to do with me. As if I had nothing of value that I wanted or needed to give. And here it is again. Here they are again, asking me to help out with their cause. But this time I don’t have a choice. I don’t have enough money of my own to be picky.

  “There is a conference coming up,” says Riley. “A good friend of mine, Brandon Whitley, will be speaking at it. You should go. Listen to him speak. See what we do. See what the Association does, and see what you can do to help out. Explain who your father was, what he did, that kind of thing and I’m sure everyone there will be willing to give you a helping hand.” He smiles, completely oblivious to the roller coaster happening in my stomach. “Especially Brandon. He’s a good guy. He really does like to help those in need. And I’m sure he’ll also feel especially connected to you, Juliet. He has a soft spot for ladies like you.”

  I sigh internally. I know. Oh, do I know. And this woman walked out on him. Out loud I say, “I’ll go to the conference. Just let me know the day and time, and I’ll be there.”

  Riley completely brightens. “Great!” He takes the paperwork I’ve just signed for him, and assigns it himself. Sticking it back in my folder, he adds, “well, since we’ve gotten all of this going for today, let’s just see how things go for you after the conference. Okay?”

  “Okay.” As I say this, I have to work extra hard not to pay attention to the sickness in my stomach. The knotting happening up there. I get up, hoping movement will help. Either that, or that I will be out of his nice office before I throw up. “Thank you so much for your help, Riley. Thank you so much for taking the time to see me on such short notice.”

  Riley jumps up from his chair and hurries to open the door for me. “You’re so welcome, Juliet. We’re so glad to be able to help the daughter of such a dedicated seal like your father.” I nod, and walk out the door he’s holding up for me.

  “See you again soon,” I say.

  “You bet!” he says, and closes his door.

  As I walk past the receptionist’s desk and back out into the New Mexico spring, it hits me what I’ve agreed to. I’ve agreed to come face-to-face with him again. With Brandon.

  A huge part of me doesn’t want to see or hear anything from him. I’m afraid of how angry he’ll be. Or how distant he’ll be, but I know I have to go. The baby deserves to know. The baby deserves to have a relationship with his or her father, no matter what I feel or think. The baby wasn’t the one acting stupid. I was. We were. They shouldn’t have to pay for that. I lost my daddy to war. My baby shouldn’t lose his or her daddy because we are choosing to be distant. There’s enough pain in this world. I don’t want to add to it.

  I also don’t want to have to explain why I didn’t even try to my baby. I know they would ask me later.

  Chapter 29

  Brandon

  Harlow, his wife Whitney, their nanny and in their two children are visiting. The first visitors I’ve had in three months since Juliet just up and left. While I would like to believe that they are just here to visit, here to bring a ray of sunshine into my gray, gloomy cabin in the woods, I know that’s not the reason for being here.

  Today is the day of the conference. The conference I agreed that I would speak at, since I ducked out of the last one due to Juliet being present and in need of care.

  At present, I’m finishing getting ready in the bathroom. I’m putting the finishing touches on my military suit. Making sure I have all of my medals and awards showing. I’m putting on my cap and cufflinks, which also shows some distinctions from my service.

  Harlow’s the one fixing the cap on my head. Dusting off my shoulders, and generally primping. Wh
ich is funny, since he often used to get after his wife Whitney about being too fussy. “Looking good there, partner,” he says, coming around to the front. He fixes my tie, and a bit of my shirt underneath my suit. “Looking like 1 million bucks.”

  “Wish I felt like it,” I say, still feeling incomplete. I haven’t felt whole since Juliet left. I know it sounds stupid, but over the few weeks that we spend together, I really began to feel like a whole person. Like a real, living, breathing man. Someone who could be a great husband, and maybe someday, a great father. And not just a distinguished hero on the battlefield or in the community.

  “Nervous?” Harlow smiles, bending to dust off my shoes. What bit of them he can reach.

  Outside the bathroom, his eldest daughter Bella, who’s five, and his young son Trent, who’s three, run back and forth playing. They’ve gotten one of my southwestern colored and styled throw blankets, and are using it as a Cape. Apparently they also have one of my bear statues, and are using that for some kind of strange role-play.

  To all of this roughhousing, I hear Whitney scream at them. “Be careful with that! Those are not yours to play with, Bella!” I hear her sigh, and move very quickly for a seven-month pregnant wife. “Trent, you hold on tightly to that! If it breaks, I’m going to break something of yours when we get home!”

  Harlow chuckles. “You don’t have anything to be nervous about, man. Every time you get nervous, and every time you blow people away.”

  “It’s different this time. I’m not getting an award or anything,” I say. For some reason, getting an award made it easier last time. Gave me something to rally my speech around. Some reason for me to be up there blithering on. And this time, I just don’t feel like I have that. I’m just telling my story to tell it. And even though I know it’s been beneficial to many, many people. Veterans and their families, I just can’t get over feeling like I get too much praise. Too much attention for all of this.

  And then there’s Juliet. No matter how many times I’ve told myself to let her go — to move on from her over the last three months — I just can’t do it. Even now I have the wedding ring in my pocket. I know that most men would’ve thrown it out, taken into a pawn shop by now, but I just can’t do it. Some part of me believes that Juliet isn’t gone forever. That somehow, someway, she’ll come back.

  “Award or no award, you got this, man.” I smile, knowing exactly why Harlow’s Dr. was so ready and willing to take all the credit for his rehabilitation. Harlow is a sexy, charismatic man. Even with all of his skin grafts, some of his prosthetic pieces, he still exudes power. Strength. Knowledge. Dependability, and that’s exactly what I need washing over me at the moment.

  “You really do,” says Whitney, joining us in the bathroom. As she waddles in through the door, I noticed how pregnant she looks. How pregnant she is now. And with kid number three. “I know you don’t hear yourself the way other people do, but you really are an inspiration. You really do help people just by giving your speeches.” She throws an arm around Harlow’s waist, looking at me. “You look ready enough to give a speech, anyway.”

  I smile at her, chuckling. “Thank you, Whitney.” I pause, looking at her belly, and then the little hell raisers behind her. Who seemed to have not taken her warnings at all to heart. Now they’ve gotten pillows to go along with their blankets, and are fighting with those. Luckily, it seems that my bear sculpture has made it somewhere safe, and not in pieces. “How do you do it all? Those two kids. One three, one five, and another baby on the way.”

  As I say this, I hear another voice began to scold the children. It belongs to the nanny. By the accent, it sounds like the maid is from France. Or maybe Barcelona.

  “I have a great nanny to help out,” she admits. “Michelle has been a lifesaver. But more than that, Harlow and I really love having kids and being parents, so we just go with it.” She takes my gloved hand (gloves are part of my uniform, after all) and leads me out of the bathroom. “Here, let me introduce you to her.”

  I’m not really sure why she wants me to get to know the nanny Michelle, but I don’t object. I follow her out of the bathroom and down to the sunken living room where the kids have chosen to settle down finally. Michelle, dressed in a light frilly water-melon green dress, looks completely enthralled with the kids. In love with them, as if she’s their mother.

  Whitney calls Michelle over and introduces her to me.

  Michelle seems about as concerned/confused as I do by this meeting. But we’re both polite to each other all the same.

  But that’s really all we have time for, before Harlow takes me under his wing, and pushes me toward their van. It’s been decided that I will ride with them to the conference. While Whitney is trying to pass it off as something friends and family do for each other, I know the real reason.

  Harlow wants to make sure I don’t ditch out on him this time. And the only way he can do that is by escorting me there himself.

  Which I submit to without any protest.

  But, as I sit in my seat between the two kids, I find my heart growing heavy.

  Juliet and I talked about having kids. At the time I told her I wasn’t sure how I felt about being a dad. About having a little one running around. But now I’m feeling left out. Lonely. Abandoned.

  Kids wouldn’t be so bad now, I think, realizing I wanted to have them with Juliet. Juliet would’ve made a great mom. And a great wife. But it’s too late to be thinking about that now. She left me. She doesn’t want anything to do with me, even after all that I did for her. I was naïve to think that she cared for me as much as I cared for her. Running away from me like that… There’s no way I can have kids with a woman like that… They don’t need to have a runaway mother, that’s for sure.

  Chapter 30

  Brandon

  This month’s conference is being held at a small convention center near the center of Albuquerque. Not at the headquarters of our charity, as has been done a few times prior. Which is okay with me. But what I’m not prepared for is how many people are present. How many men and women in uniform are sitting in the audience, looking over the moon to be there.

  As I step on stage, I have a lot of my superiors and peers alike patting me on the back. Harlow among them. Also Riley and Brynn. To all of them I give a fake smile. Something that glitters with my metals, but only half as honest.

  Nervously, I shuffle my notecards for the speech for the 10,000th time. But even with all my nervousness, the face I see in the crowd directly after messing with my prompts, is completely uncalled for. Something I wasn’t prepared for in a million years.

  There’s Juliet. She’s seated in the middle of a row not too far from the front. The way she’s positioned, it’s almost like she — or someone close to her — wanted me and only me to see her.

  Though the lights might be dim, smoky in their illumination, I see clearly changes in Juliet’s body and posture. She’s put on weight. She’s also grown much harder. Cold. Distant, as if the world is now her enemy, not just the dreama she has at night.

  I step closer to the end of the stage. As I do, I realize that Juliet hasn’t just gained weight. She’s pregnant.

  I can tell by the special way that the stomach bulges. Excess of food doesn’t do that. Only a healthy baby does.

  Oh my God, I think. She’s pregnant?! I stare at her staring at me. If she’s impressed by my uniform, she doesn’t show it. If she’s happy to see me, she doesn’t show that either. And I feel unbelievably sad. Regretful. If she was pregnant, why did she leave me? Why did she just walk out, if she had a kid developing inside of her? I frown, realizing I have too many questions for her and not enough time.

  My speech is due to start in a minute. The lights above us have just flickered, announcing that fact to me, and everyone else seated in the audience.

  Even so, I walk a little closer to the stage. Position myself half by the mic in half by Juliet’s corner. I look her in the eyes, sending this one thought her way: whatever it is… Whatever
happened between you and me — whatever made you leave me when you needed someone by your side the most — I’m gonna figure it out with you. And I’m gonna do it by keeping you by my side forever. No matter what your feelings, no matter how you might be feeling afraid her alone, I’m not gonna let you go this time.

  I’m gonna stick by you and that baby, no matter how unprepared I feel.

  You’ve had the strength to deal with this on your own for three months. I can find the strength to deal with it for the next six months and after.

  If you can find the strength to be a mother, I can find the strength to be a father.

  Chapter 31

  Juliet

  “Oh God,” I mumble, looking down so Brandon can’t read my lips, “it was a bad idea to come here today. I shouldn’t’ve let Riley talk me into coming today.” I hang my head, clasp my hands together. I placed them on my belly, trying to soothe myself with feeling little motions from the baby. Though it hasn’t started moving around all that much, sometimes I like to think I can feel it twisting and turning in there.

  But I wasn’t really talked into it, I think. It was more like I was railroaded into it. I glance up briefly, still overwhelmed by the sadness I see in Brandon’s gaze. In the way he looks at me. The bulge in my belly. I was supposed to go over to Riley’s house to have dinner with him and his wife last night, but I ducked out at the last minute. Was nervous. Afraid to show my belly around too much.

  A wave of nausea hits me as Brandon’s face and eyes comes under my awareness again. But that’s not the worst of it. The worst of it is being here and having him look at me like that. I know I have to tell him about the baby officially. I know he’s trying to put on a brave face with all this — as I think this, Brandon does exactly what I predict, and wipes away any trace of regret or sorrow, and puts professionalism there — but let’s face it. He wasn’t excited in the least when we talked about how we felt about kids. He pretty much said he didn’t want any, even though he didn’t say those words. It’s clear enough how he felt about it. So there’s no way any of this is going to go well for me or him.