If I kept the baby from Levi, I was also keeping it from Linda and Mac. The guilt that settled over me at that thought was suffocating.
So I was back to trying to figure out how I was supposed to tell everyone I was pregnant with my dead fiancé’s brother’s baby. Goddamn, that sounded like a Jerry Springer show theme. Jesus.
Holding my head in my hands, I sat at my kitchen table with my cell phone resting there—mocking me. Three times I’d picked it up and pulled up Levi’s contact info. With my finger hovering over the little phone symbol, my stomach rebelled and I jumped up to run for the bathroom.
It had taken about a month for the morning sickness to kick in after I got home. After I’d told Levi I didn’t want to talk to him. Initially I had chalked it up to nerves. Then I thought I had the flu. But when it continued every freaking day, I knew something was up. In the back of my mind, I knew exactly what it was, but stubbornly, I had refused to consciously think it.
As I sat worshipping the porcelain god, I spoke out loud to Lucas.
“God, Lucas, I’m so sorry. I’ve really fucked things up now, haven’t I? This was supposed to be your baby. What do I do now? Everyone is going to think I’m such a piece of shit. The crazy thing is, I can deal with that, but the thought of anyone feeling that way about Levi rips me apart. I shouldn’t give a shit about him, I know. Except, he loves you so much and looking back on it, I feel like I made him betray you. I begged him to. I was so fucked-up. You were brothers. Twins. Jesus.” As usual when I had my conversations with Lucas, there was only silence for an answer.
The tiles were cold and hard on my knees as I waited for the second wave of nausea to subside. Hanging my head, I did my best to control my breathing. Finally feeling it was okay to leave my safe zone, I rose and brushed my teeth.
I returned to the table to glance at my phone in trepidation. My fingers trailed along the smooth edge as it sat innocuously on the table. Blowing out a breath, I pulled my hand away. “No. I’ll do it later. Another time. Not yet.”
At my words, the candles I had burning in the kitchen all blew out. Startled, I looked up to see if I had left a window open, but I hadn’t. The light smell of the smoke from the wicks drifted past my nose. A shiver raced down my spine as a whisper of air blew across my cheek.
“Lucas?” My voice was shaky. I was certifiably losing my mind if the first conclusion I came to for my damn candles blowing out was that he might be in my house.
Shaking my head, I rose to place my coffee cup in the sink, then stood there staring at it, reminded of the little coffee shop Levi and I had enjoyed before stepping outside and running into his girlfriend. On top of everything reminding me of Lucas, I now had things reminding me of Levi.
Deciding it was time to pull myself out of this funk, I grabbed my phone and called Trina.
“Hey, chica, what’s going on? You’ve been worrying me. I haven’t heard from you in days. You feeling okay?”
Was I feeling okay? Hell no, I wasn’t. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m heading to the beach. Wanna go?” After all, it was a hot, sunny Tuesday in late July. What better way to spend the day?
“Hell, yeah. You picking me up on your way?” Shrugging even though she couldn’t see me, I told her I would call her when I got close. After hanging up, I went into my bedroom to change.
Turning sideways in front of the mirror, I ran my palm over my still-flat belly. Hard to believe there was a three-month-old little peanut in there. “Hey, little guy—or girl. Mommy’s here. It would be great if you could quit making me sick every morning.” I’d been to the doctor yesterday and she’d given me a book about what to watch for and what to expect during the pregnancy process. She’d said the morning sickness might stop after this month. Might being the operative word; therefore, I felt a little conversation with the peanut couldn’t hurt.
Shoulders slumping, I pulled out a neon green bikini and my favorite white cover-up. I situated my growing boobs in the top, and slipped the short dress-like cover-up on, then slid on a pair of flip-flops.
Although I’d committed to going, I really wasn’t feeling the beach. A nap sounded so much better. I trudged out to my car, my phone dinging in my purse. As I paused by my car door to dig out my phone, my neighbor, Mrs. Brown, waved from where she watered her flowers in front of her house, so I smiled and waved back.
Looking at the screen, I saw it was a message from my mom.
Mom: Hey, baby. Can you come over for dinner tonight?
Me: Sure. What time?
Mom: How about 6?
Me: K. C U then
Things were getting better with my mom, but I’d been avoiding her too. Especially over the past week. It made me feel bad.
She’d wanted to know all about my trip and what Lucas’s family was like. Then of course she’d wanted to know why I’d come home early. Debating how much to tell her, I decided on a half-truth, that it was too difficult being around his family. The whole “reminder” thing. Which was partially true. Pretty sure she didn’t 100 percent buy it, which was why I’d avoided her any chance I could or met her in places it was difficult to talk.
Resting my hand on my stomach, I knew there was way more I needed to discuss with her.
Switching the bottle of wine to my other hand, I knocked on the door before opening it and entering the condo. My brain must have been scrambled, or the baby was sucking it dry, because I wouldn’t be able to drink any of the wine I’d brought. Of course, if I had brought something nonalcoholic, Mom would have known there was something up immediately.
After dad had died, Mom sold the house I grew up in and John had sold her one of the condos at a great price. The “family discount,” he called it. Which I thought was really sweet, but also had me feeling a little upset with her. I mean, it had been my childhood home and she just sold it. But the bright side was, her condo was two floors below John’s in the same tower, and had a gorgeous view of the beach and the gulf.
She seemed happy there. Despite her nagging and our falling out after dad died, I loved her. I wanted that happiness for her. It struck me that I hadn’t been dealing with Lucas’s death any better than she had my dad’s. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on her.
“Mom! I’m here!” Kicking off my shoes by the door, I steadied myself on the wall as dizziness engulfed me. It had obviously been a mistake, but I had skipped lunch at the beach because I was still a little nauseous. After I regained my equilibrium, I headed toward the kitchen where I could hear music playing and laughter floating out into the living area.
I turned the corner and saw something I could never unsee. And I wasn’t really sure how to process it. Frozen in shock, I just stared at the scene before me with a slack-jawed stance.
John and my mom were standing in what could only be described as an intimate position, his front nestled to her back, chin resting on her shoulder, and arms wrapped around her waist as she chopped veggies. They were talking and laughing with the music playing louder there than it had seemed at the door, which was probably why they hadn’t heard me come in.
My purse slipped from my shoulder, dropping to the floor. The sound and movement must have drawn their attention, because John snapped away from my mom. As he took another step away, he simultaneously shoved one hand in his pocket and the other through his hair. Mom was flushed with a guilty shade of pink, and her eyes darted from me to John.
“You’re early, sweetheart!”
Stunned, I could only nod. My heart wasn’t sure how to deal with this situation. Part of me was angry. Angry, wondering how long this had been going on. Angry, wondering if it had been before my dad died. Hurt, that they never said anything to me. Confused. Uncomfortable. But in a small way, not really surprised at all.
Was this why John had never married?
“Poppy—” John started, but my mom laid a hand on his shoulder and stepped toward me. Her expression screamed worry and nervousness as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. When she took another step in m
y direction, I stepped back, shaking my head in continued disbelief.
“Poppy, honey. This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out, but this is part of the reason I invited you to dinner. John has been insisting we tell you, but I was so afraid. Even though it’s been years, I didn’t want you to feel like we were disrespecting your father’s memory.”
“Are you? Was this going on before he died?” My tone was accusatory. It had been almost six years that my dad had been gone. Surely they hadn’t been hiding this that whole time.
My mom’s gasp had John stepping up. “Vivian, let me talk to her.”
Mom waved him off and looked at me with indignant surprise. “Poppy, I never would have done that to Samuel. Neither would John. In fact—” She glanced back at John. “—why don’t we sit down and talk about all of this?” She took the bottle of wine from my limp hands, handing it back to John who put it on the counter. Then she picked up my purse and set it on the breakfast bar before guiding me to the couch.
“I’d rather stand.” I should probably sit.
“There are some things you need to know. Things I should have never kept from you. But we had a good life and we made the decisions we did thinking they were for the best.” John came into the room and slowly sat on the edge the recliner. In frustration or remorse, he palmed his face with both hands.
“When I first met your father, we had all basically just graduated high school and were going to the same college together. The three of us had some of the same classes, and we used to study together. One night Sam, John, and I had all gone to a bonfire on the beach and….” She looked to John for encouragement. At his nod, she continued. “We’d all been drinking. Your… Samuel got sick and went back to his dorm, but I stayed with John. It got late, and well, things happened.” Her face flamed red and she dropped her head for a moment. “The next morning we felt awful. No, I wasn’t actually dating Samuel, but John and I knew he was head over heels for me. Back then, John didn’t have what he has now, and he didn’t feel like he was good enough for me. We argued about it, but he walked away. Samuel and I ended up spending more time together. My feelings for him grew, but I always held a small flame for John, I just kept it locked away.”
My head reeling, I continued to stare at my mom as she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.
“When I found out I was pregnant with you, Samuel asked me to marry him. At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do. You know Grams was wealthy, and they immediately stepped up with doctor’s bills and buying things for you. It wasn’t about the money, he was just so very good to me. What he never knew was….” She swallowed hard. “Jesus, this is so much harder than I ever thought. Poppy, John is your father.”
“Whaaaat?” My response was a screech. It felt like the floor had opened up under my feet and I was fighting to keep from falling. My heart stuttered, stopped, then began to thud as I tried to catch my breath. All I could think was this had to be a crazy-ass dream, and I would be waking up soon. I would call my mom, tell her about it, and we would laugh.
“We didn’t realize until after you were born that you might be mine. By then, your mom and Sam were married, and I wasn’t going to destroy that.” John’s voice sounded tired. “But as you became a little older and your eyes changed from newborn blue to my golden brown? Coupled with your dark hair, I knew. I’m not sure if Sam ever suspected, but he never treated you like anything less than his baby girl. Your mom is right, he was good to her and to you, and I couldn’t step in and take that away from either of you. In the beginning, he could offer you so much more than I could’ve dreamed.”
Looking at John, it amazed me that I’d never noticed how our eyes were the same amber shade of brown and our hair was similar in color. Yes, my dad had brown eyes, but they were a chocolate brown and he’d had sandy-blond hair. My mom had light brown hair and I just figured I got my hair color from her family since the pictures I’d seen showed her grandparents with dark hair. Now the similarities were uncanny, and I couldn’t believe no one picked up on them before.
Dumfounded, I sat there with my mouth open. Maybe people saw and accepted what they wanted to and like the multitudes, I’d never questioned it. Partially because I never knew mom’s family. Mom never talked to them because they had disowned her when she became pregnant with me. Then her parents passed away when I was young, and she only had some distant cousins who we rarely associated with. So I didn’t know what they really looked like either.
The reality of the situation began to sink in. Much to my surprise, I had to admit I wasn’t as angry as I was when I first saw them together in the kitchen. This definitely explained why John had never married.
This was why he was so good to my mom—why he was so good to me.
But had he just been trying to bribe me all this time? My dad—Sam—had been dead for years. Why hadn’t they told me before? Were they ever planning to tell me? Doubts and the enormity of the situation assaulted me from every direction. The room began to spin. And that was when I passed the fuck out.
“Trouble”—Five Finger Death Punch
Besides playing every Friday night at Ray’s, we were picking up gigs every Saturday night at some of the more well-known venues in the area. Last weekend we had played at Neumos and we were slotted to play at the Showbox SoDo next Thursday. Yeah, it was during the week, but hey, it was exciting as hell for us. We were starting to make some pretty good money for a band just starting out.
Tonight’s concert was the best to date, though. We’d been contacted by the event coordinator at CenturyLink Field to be the local opening act for Rise Against and AFI because the original band had to cancel after their lead singer ended up in the hospital with the flu. It sucked for them but was an incredible opportunity for us.
“That was fucking awesome!” Aiden was still wound up from being on stage even though we’d finished our last song almost thirty minutes ago. He was right. It was fucking awesome.
Unable to keep the grin off my face, I pulled my shirt off and used it to wipe the sweat from my head. Besides the performance, we’d been rushing our asses off to clear the stage.
“Aww hell, put that shit away, bro,” Logan teased me as he walked past and poked my abs. Just to fuck with him, I flexed and posed. Rolling eyes and a shaking head was his response. Aiden and Dominic jumped on board and whipped off their shirts. We all crowded around Logan as we flexed and blew him kisses.
Logan was laughing his ass off as he tried to cover his eyes and get away from us, when we heard someone clearing their throat. Still smiling, we broke up the flex-fest and turned to see who had entered the room.
“Can I help you?” Honestly, I figured the nerdy-looking guy was lost. Maybe three hairs were combed over his balding head and he was pushing up his thick glasses.
“I’m Hector Stapleton.” When he didn’t say anything else, the guys and I all glanced at each other in confusion. Like, who the hell was Hector Stapleton?
Lifting my chin to him, I waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, I figured I better find out where he was actually supposed to be. “Hey Hector, I’m Levi MacKenzie. Who were you looking for, maybe I can point you in the right direction?”
The look I got was a cross between shock that I wasn’t falling at his feet and humor. “I’m looking for you. Well, and your bandmates. I have a proposition for you that I think you will find very interesting.”
“Ummm, okay. What kind of proposition?” Like me, the guys were stoic. Aiden and Dominic stood side-by-side with their arms crossed. To anyone else, they may have appeared nonchalant, but I recognized it for what it was. They were prepared to jump this guy if he turned out to be some kind of whack job.
Logan, distrust rampant in his body language, stepped up next to me.
“I was impressed with your show tonight. I’ve seen a few of your performances now and I’ve liked what I’ve seen. I’m with Rage Recording Company and we have an offer I’m pleased to present you.” Belatedly, I noticed th
e briefcase at his side. Fuck, I was slipping if I hadn’t cataloged that about him immediately. He slid it onto the small table in our dressing room and clicked it open.
As he pulled out the stack of papers, Logan stepped forward, hand out. Hector handed them to him and then continued to stand there as if he expected us to sign right then and there.
“Well, I’m not sure what to say. Thank you. If you don’t mind, we’d like to look it over and have our attorney look at it. Is it okay if we get back to you next week?” At my response, he looked flustered and blinked behind his glasses, making him look like an owl. It took everything I had not to bust out laughing. Which was kind of shitty considering this was the first real offer we’d had presented to us.
“Uh, um, sure. Yes, that would be fine. But please don’t take too long because I have several other bands we’re looking at that would jump at this offer. I would hate to see a group with so much talent miss out because they waited too long.”
What the fuck ever. In my periphery, I saw Dominic raise an eyebrow as Aiden fought a smile.
“We’ll get back to you. Don’t worry.” None of us moved until he snapped his briefcase closed and moved toward me with his hand outstretched.
Each of us stepped up and shook his proffered hand before stepping back. As soon as he walked out and the door was closed, everyone rushed to see the papers Logan was flipping through.
“What are they offering? And why the hell would they send that douche to present it? Was he for real?”
“What the fuck was with Mr. Magoo?”
“Man, I don’t know.” Everyone was talking at once. Logan’s furrowed brow told me he wasn’t too keen on some of the shit in those papers. He was a smart fucker and I trusted him to be able to tell us if it was a fair offer. Even though we didn’t actually have an attorney, I knew he would want them looked at by one before we signed anything.
“What’s it say?” Holding back my excitement at our first real offer, I fought to remain calm.
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