Accidental Husband_A Secret Baby Romance

by Nikki Chase

  Fuck. This was supposed to be a quiet night in.

  I have to do something. Nicole’s alone in the house, so this couldn’t have happened at a worse time, but there must be something I can do.

  Sophia

  Damn it, I scold myself in my head. What happened to “saying goodbye like an adult”?

  That was bad. That was really bad.

  Oh, God.

  A text message would’ve been better.

  Seriously, telling him while his niece was asleep between us?

  And then, running away while he was screaming my name in the middle of the road?

  Could it have been any more dramatic?

  I hit the steering wheel with my palms. I’m not driving that fast. But, seeing as my vision is blurred by tears, I shouldn’t be driving at all.

  Crying wasn’t part of the plan.

  Running away wasn’t part of the plan.

  Saying two sentences before running away wasn’t part of the plan.

  But, at least it’s over now.

  It’s done.

  I’ve ended our relationship.

  Now, all that’s left to do is run away. So far away Eli won’t be able to find me.

  Eli

  “I came as fast as I could.” Bertha stands outside my door with her kind smile and calm demeanor.

  Normally, I wouldn’t even dream of saying something rude to someone who’s only trying to help me.

  But right now, I feel like telling her she’d be out of breath, and her hair bun would be a mess, if she really did come as fast as she could.

  “Thanks, Bertha. I owe you a big one.” I grab my car keys.

  Nicole’s already asleep upstairs, so there’s not much Bertha has to do.

  I just can’t leave Nicole alone at home in case she wakes up in the middle of the night looking for me—or worse, in case someone breaks into the house.

  I tried to call my mom, but her phone was turned off. I tried to call Kelly, the neighbor’s teenager, who sometimes babysits Nicole, but she’s out with friends, probably hanging out by some convenience store.

  As I hop into my truck, I glance at my phone.

  No phone calls and no text messages. Nothing from anyone. Nothing from Sophia.

  I turn on the ignition and try to call her again, turning on the speaker in case she picks up while I’m driving. My heart races as I navigate the familiar streets, which look dark and menacing now that I’m scared as hell.

  Again, after the dial tone, it goes straight to voicemail. To add insult to injury, the recording isn’t even of Sophia’s voice. It’s just some pre-recorded message from the phone provider, asking me to say something after the beep.

  As if I’d do that, knowing Sophia would just delete anything I leave her without even listening to it.

  I know that because she told me she didn’t even read any of my text messages or listen to my voicemails the last time she had ignored my attempts to reach out to her.

  Why does she keep doing this? She wouldn’t do it for no reason.

  Sophia seems to have retained some disappointment after the way I ended things seven years ago. But she wouldn’t . . . There’s no way she’s only doing this for revenge.

  No fucking way.

  I saw the way she cried. I saw the tears. I saw the way she tried to stop herself from crying. I know how much she hates crying in front of anyone.

  Sophia was genuinely torn up about leaving me.

  I don’t want her to leave me, so why would she?

  What did she mean when she told me she was “broken”?

  What could that even mean?

  And she told me she wasn’t the right girl for me? She doesn’t get to decide that for me.

  If Sophia isn’t the right girl for me, then nobody is, then I’m doomed to a life of loneliness.

  If I can’t have Sophia, then I’ll have no one.

  Other than my mom and Nicole, I’ll have no one. Nobody can replace Sophia.

  Finally, I reach my destination. Sophia’s house.

  It’s late. Almost midnight. It took me a while to find someone to watch Nicole.

  But Sophia . . . She’s probably still awake. Is she still crying, staring at the ceiling while her tears stain her pillowcase?

  I press the bell button.

  I don’t care if Mr. and Mrs. York have to get out of bed to open the door for me. I can’t possibly leave this until tomorrow. I have to see Sophia now.

  When the door opens, I find Mr. York standing there in his striped pajamas.

  “How can I help you?” he asks.

  “Mr. York, I’m sorry to bother you so late at night,” I say quickly. “But, I need to see Sophia.”

  The man sighs. “She told me you might come here looking for her.”

  “And?” My heart pounds.

  Has she changed her mind?

  Is she waiting inside, just for me? Is she ready to talk to me now?

  Does she at least have a message for me?

  “She says to tell you . . . that she doesn’t want to see you.”

  Fuck!

  “Mr. York, please. Could you ask her again?”

  “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head.

  “Could you please tell her I’m at the door?”

  “Like I said, she knew you were coming.” His eyes are sympathetic, but he won’t budge.

  “Could you . . .” I slide my fingertips along my scalp, hoping to prod my brain into coming up with something good. I give Mr. York a pleading look. “Could you please tell her I’ll wait here at the door for as long as it takes her to come out?”

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he says.

  “I . . . I don’t know what else to do. All I know is I need to speak with her,” I say. “Please, Mr. York, you have to help me. I can’t just let this go.”

  He lets out a tired sigh. “She won’t come out. Not as long as she knows you’re waiting just outside. I know my daughter. She’ll barricade herself inside the house for weeks if that’s what it takes.”

  “I’ll wait. For however long it takes. If she stays inside for five weeks, I’ll wait for five weeks and a day. Ten weeks. I don’t care. Even if it storms again, I’ll still be here, waiting for her.”

  Mr. York silently studies my face. Then, he glances inside the house over his shoulder and takes a step forward, standing in front of the door and holding it like a barrier behind him.

  “I can see that you’re serious about my daughter, and I can see that you make her happy. When I saw her at home the other day . . . It had been a while since my wife and I saw her smiling so much.”

  “She makes me happy, too. And I know I can make her happy again,” I say.

  Mr. York takes another glance behind him, then drops his voice even lower. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but there’s something on her mind, something that has been bothering her since she came back into town.”

  “That much I know,” I say, whispering. “Could you tell me what it is?”

  He shakes his head. “I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to hear from her yourself. But something has happened to her . . . and she thinks you won’t accept her because of that.”

  A mental image flashes in my mind of Sophia telling me she’s “broken.” Possibilities swim in my head.

  What could it be?

  A leaked sex tape? A newly diagnosed illness? A big, career-ending mistake?

  “I don’t care what it is,” I say resolutely. “If she’ll take me, I’ll do my best to make her the happiest person on earth.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.” Mr. York nods. “I’m not supposed to tell you this, but if you want to talk to Sophia, there’s a better way than waiting for her out here.”

  I look expectantly at Sophia’s dad, afraid I’ll put my foot in my mouth and say something to make him change his mind.

  As Mr. York tells me how I can meet Sophia and get a chance to talk to her, I pull out my phone and make some notes. I can
’t make a stupid mistake and miss this small window of opportunity.

  “If you can’t get to her in time, I’m afraid there won’t be anything I can do to help you,” Mr. York says. “I can’t give you her new phone number because it’ll be obvious you got it from either my wife or me.”

  “I understand,” I say, nodding. “Thank you so much for doing this for me, Mr. York.”

  The man smiles—the way his eyes twinkle reminds me of her daughter. “I remember what it’s like to be in love. I know it’s hard to imagine, but I was young once, too.”

  I return his smile. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me.”

  “I’m not doing this for you,” he says, waving his hand dismissively. “I’m doing this for Sophia. I think you’ll be good for her.” He leans closer. “Between you and me, I never liked her last boyfriend, and I’m glad he broke things off with her,” he whispers conspiratorially.

  My heart clenches at the thought of Sophia with another man.

  Jealousy. It’s something I’ve never felt with any other girl.

  And, there’s another novel thing. Fear. There’s nothing that terrifies me more than the thought of losing her again.

  “Thank you again, Mr. York,” I say, taking my leave.

  The man smiles as he rubs his palms together. It’s cold outside tonight, and he’s only wearing his pajamas. “I hope you two will work things out.”

  At least, if Sophia and I make it, I can count on having friendly in-laws.

  “Me, too.”

  Sophia

  “Thank you,” I say to the driver who has just opened the compartment under the bus.

  The man grunts in response. He looks like a squirrel who’s hiding some peanuts in his cheeks. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his flat nose. “I’ll take a piss, and then we’ll get going. Don’t go anywhere.”

  I nod.

  My bag really isn’t that heavy. But still, I struggle to lift it into the compartment.

  On my way here from the city, there were male passengers who were nice enough to help me load it into the bus.

  I knew there wouldn’t be much company this morning, but I was hoping the bus driver, at least, would be able to help me. To be fair to the guy, though, maybe he has a back condition or something.

  He probably hates his job, and I’m not surprised. Long hours on the road with a bunch of tired, often loud passengers? That sounds like hell to me.

  But, at least, he has a job. Unlike me.

  I glance at the door on the side of the bus. Couldn’t he have let me in before leaving? It’s not like anyone else is joining us this morning. Most people are at work, after all.

  I let out a heavy sigh. For the first time since graduating college, I’m unemployed.

  It’s high time I leave Ashbourne. I thought it was a good idea to spend time back home to try to forget about my troubles. As it turned out, I only caused more problems during my stay here.

  Maybe I’m cursed. Perhaps problems will follow me wherever I go, starting from now.

  I mean, David, my ex, wasn’t perfect. But he hired me straight out of college, and I thrived as his employee. I worked hard, too, of course.

  We were two workaholics, spending a ton of time together in the same office, so naturally we became close. He was the person I spent the most time with, and vice versa.

  When I realized he had feelings for me, I thought it made sense. We were a good match.

  He wasn’t going to have a problem with me working all the time because he was doing the same thing. He was good-looking, successful, and perfectly nice.

  So we entered into a relationship. It was . . . nice enough, in hindsight.

  I wasn’t addicted to him the way I was (and still am, probably) to Eli. But on the bright side, we never had teary, explosive arguments either.

  There weren’t any peaks and valleys with David. It was a stable relationship.

  When it ended, I didn’t go into an almost catatonic state. I was more crushed about the news I had gotten from my doctor than about our break-up.

  I thought it was just because that was an adult relationship. I was a grown-up, reacting to life events with a cool head on my shoulders.

  But as I watch the bus driver disappear into the restroom, I know that’s bullshit. Because I can barely see the sign on the door with the little stick figure. Because my vision is blurry because tears are pricking my eyes again.

  Jesus, when exactly will I stop crying over Eli?

  I knew from the start it wasn’t going anywhere. I knew I would have to give him up.

  And yet, here I am, crying while waiting for my bus driver to finish taking his piss.

  Out of nowhere, I hear the sound of car engine getting closer and stopping nearby.

  Checking my watch, I realize there’s still five minutes until we’re scheduled to leave. Maybe I won’t be the only passenger, after all.

  God, I hope I won’t have some chatterbox sitting next to me, trying to make a conversation happen. I’m not in the mood to talk.

  “Sophia,” I hear a low, smooth, familiar baritone from behind me.

  I turn around slowly, wondering if I’m going crazy. I have been thinking about him the entire night . . .

  But when I catch a glimpse of those big hands, those strong arms, those broad shoulders . . . I know.

  I’d recognize him anywhere, even in the most tightly-packed crowd.

  I look away before I catch sight of his face. I’m not strong enough for that.

  “Eli?” My mouth feels dry, and I sound like I’m choking.

  “I’m glad I caught you in time,” he says as he catches his breath.

  Eli reaches out to take my hand, but I take a step back. I can’t let him touch me. I just can’t.

  It was hard enough to walk away from him last night. It’ll be hard to get on the bus, now, without also having to physically let go of him.

  “What are you doing here?” My gaze darts toward the restroom door.

  Damn it, the driver still hasn’t come out yet. How long does it take the guy to take a piss?

  “I need to talk to you,” he says. Just hearing his voice makes my heart clench so tight I’m scared it’ll implode.

  “I don’t. Leave me alone.” I stare at the bus door, wishing I could open it with the sheer power of my will.

  “I know you don’t want to talk to me. You made that clear enough last night,” he says. “But Sophia, I can’t just let you go. I told you that already. I meant it.”

  Stop talking. Please, please stop talking.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I say.

  “On the contrary, there’s plenty to talk about,” he says softly.

  I thought he’d be furious at me for running away without an explanation. But there’s no anger in his voice; no accusation.

  “Please leave,” I repeat.

  “I can’t. I won’t, princess,” he says.

  It’s not fair. When he calls me “princess,” my heart flips. I’m not strong enough to take this for much longer.

  I look away. Snow still covers the ground. It piles up on tree branches. The sun is shining this morning, but it’s not warm enough to melt it down.

  “You told me you were broken,” he says. “What did you mean by that?”

  “Nothing.”

  I feel stupid for saying that. I should’ve just told him we weren’t right for each other and left it at that. That had been my plan that night.

  But when the moment came for me to end it, I panicked and said too much. I should’ve told him I had grown tired of him or something like that. That would’ve been easier. Simpler.

  “Princess, whatever it is, you should know it won’t change the way I feel about you,” he says. “Nothing can change the way I feel about you.”

  He’s just saying that because he doesn’t know. This . . . problem, it’s too big for even Eli to ignore.

  And even if he’s still willing to stay with me after learning the tr
uth, I can’t do that to him. I can’t take away something I know he’s always wanted.

  “Don’t you believe me?” Eli asks as if he can read my mind.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say without meeting his gaze. “I’ve made my decision.”

  “And you won’t even try to give me the chance to make the decision together with you? Or at least, let me know why you made that decision?” Eli’s voice, normally steady and calm, starts to break. He sighs. “You won’t even look at me.”

  I glance at him and avert my gaze immediately, regretting what I just saw.

  Eli looks . . . Well, he looks rough. He’s still wearing the outfit he wore last night, his eyes are bloodshot, and his hair is a mess.

  Obviously, I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t sleep last night.

  “My decision is final,” I say, my voice shaking.

  “Princess, please . . . I know you still have feelings for me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have left in a hurry the way you did last night. You wouldn’t have cried like that.”

  “Maybe you’re wrong,” I say.

  “Tell me how I’m wrong. What am I wrong about?”

  “Everything.”

  “Like what? Name one.”

  I know I should shut up and get into the bus as soon as the driver’s back. It’s not a good idea to start an argument right before I leave. I could lose my resolve.

  But, as is always the case when Eli’s involved, I can’t think straight. I can’t help myself.

  “Maybe you’re wrong about me having feelings for you. Maybe I’m just a crier. Maybe there’s nothing for you to fix. Maybe, even if you know why I made the decision I did, you’d agree with me,” I say, my voice growing louder with each sentence.

  “Then, tell me,” Eli says.

  “It doesn’t matter, okay?” I say. “I’m leaving, and that’s that.”

  “What if I leave with you?”

  I frown and turn toward him. “What do you mean?”

  He still stands as tall as he usually does. He’s still the same big, intimidating man. But, he looks fragile this morning. Like I can ruin him with just a single touch. Or a few words.