The Secret Baby

by Harper, Leddy

  She laid her hand on my arm and, in a soothing voice, said, “Make an appointment with an OB like I told you to and go from there. No need to freak yourself out over how far along you are. You already know that answer since you know when you conceived. Stop stressing.”

  Yeah . . . easy for her to say. She was marrying her baby’s father in two days. I didn’t even know the name of mine.

  My cell vibrated in my hand, and when I noticed the number on the screen, I snapped my fingers to get Tatum’s attention. “I have to take this. Give me, like, two minutes.”

  We were in our hotel room, getting ready to head downstairs for the rehearsal. But this was a matter I needed to take care of without any witnesses—especially my family.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Peterson, but there seems to be some sort of mix-up,” the woman said on the other end of the line when I answered the call.

  After leaving the doctor’s office yesterday with confirmation of my pregnancy, I had immediately gotten ahold of the service I’d used to hire the stripper for Tatum’s bachelorette party. Unfortunately, the woman I’d spoken to had informed me that they didn’t give out personal information about their entertainers. After I’d insisted it was urgent that I speak to him, she’d offered to pass along my name and number and let him be the one to reach out.

  I’d been expecting this call for twenty-four hours.

  I sat on the edge of the bed to keep my legs from giving out. “I’m confused . . . what kind of mix-up are you talking about?”

  “It seems the performer that was scheduled for your party was double-booked that night, and he never made it to yours. There must’ve been some oversight, since no one had noticed this earlier.”

  “Had I not called to get ahold of him, it still wouldn’t have been noticed.” My face heated with the rising anger inside. If this woman had been in front of me right now, I’d likely have had my hands around her neck.

  “I realize this, and I apologize. We will credit the card you used when booking.”

  “That doesn’t help me. Someone was there—a doctor, much like I had ordered through you. He came. He danced. He took his clothes off. I need to locate him.”

  “I’m not really sure what I can do about that, ma’am. Whoever came to your event that night was not one of ours. I wish I could help more, but unfortunately, I don’t have the answer you’re looking for.”

  I bit the corner of my thumbnail, careful not to ruin the manicure. “What if he lied about where he was? Could that be possible?”

  “For safety reasons, we have location tracking on all our associates. This must be frustrating for you, but we’ve looked into each and every one of them, and none of our men were at Boots Nightclub that night. I’m sorry. Whoever you encountered wasn’t anyone from our revue team. Is it possible someone else in your group had also ordered entertainment, and maybe that was the person you saw?”

  “No.” The word barely squeaked out past the dread choking me.

  “Well, I hope you find the person you’re looking for.”

  “Is there a way I could see their locations, just for peace of mind?”

  “Unfortunately, no. We take the safety and security of our employees very seriously.”

  Tatum sat next to me and rubbed my back while I leaned forward, my forehead resting in my palm. “Thank you anyway. I appreciate you returning my call.” I tapped the red icon and sighed, fighting off the urge to throw my phone across the room.

  I suddenly regretted the decision to leave my journal at home. This would’ve been a fantastic time to get my feelings out without worrying about the words I used. I trusted that Tatum would never judge me or make me feel bad about anything, but there was just something cathartic about writing on paper without thinking about anything. I could literally move from one thought to the next midsentence and just keep going.

  “What was that about?” Tatum’s voice interrupted my need to journal.

  “It seems the stripper never showed up to the party. So basically, I have no idea who I slept with, or why he was even there. Or how he even knew to come dressed as a doctor. I could be okay finding out I slept with someone who’s even more of a stranger than I originally thought. But I’m having this man’s kid. I don’t have the faintest idea what his name is or how to find him. And the more I think about that, the more I realize I don’t have any way to tell him about the baby or get medical information that I might need later on for my child—family history, hereditary diseases, early-onset male-pattern baldness. I could have a son who starts going bald before he learns to drive, and I would have no way to know if it’s normal.”

  Tatum took my hands in hers, silencing my irrational rambling. “There’s no point in freaking out about things that haven’t happened—or might possibly never happen. Okay?”

  I could only nod while taking a deep breath to calm down.

  “The good thing about pregnancies is that you’re given nine months to prepare. A lot can happen in that time. It’s March—the baby won’t even be born until November.”

  “What do you think is gonna happen, Tatum . . . I run into him on the street? And then what? Waddle my ass over to him, tap his shoulder, and explain that his offspring is cooking in my oven?” Realization dawned on me, pulling a gasp from my chest before I could smack my hand over my mouth to keep it in. “Oh my God, I’m going to be on Maury, aren’t I?”

  “Kels . . . one thing at a time.”

  Something about her voice, or maybe the way her hair framed her glowing face, lips painted a deep red, made me stop and think—about where we were. About why we were here in the first place. And immediately, I felt like crap. We were on the cusp of her perfect day, and there I was, casting a grey cloud over my best friend’s weekend.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting this on your plate right now. I’ll be okay once I splash some cold water on my face. I just need thirty seconds to pull myself together, and then I’ll be ready to head downstairs.” I slipped off the bed and headed to the small bathroom.

  “Take your time.”

  After wiping a tissue beneath my eyes and pulling myself together enough to prevent others from suspecting anything, I was ready to get this over with. I followed Tatum into the hallway and headed for the elevators, but before we got there, she stopped at Jason’s room.

  “I’ll meet you down there.” She winked as she tapped her knuckles on the door.

  “Are you seriously about to have a quickie?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  I rolled my eyes and stepped away. “You’re a shit liar, Tater.”

  The door opened, and she yelped playfully. Luckily, I didn’t have to witness that. I just continued toward the end of the hall to head downstairs. I sent a quick text to my sister to see if she was already there and then turned the corner to the elevators.

  Glancing up from my phone, I noticed a well-dressed man standing in front of the button. His light hair was cut short, shaped nicely, which gave his angular jaw a sexiness that nearly made me moan out loud. He had his attention on a device in his hand, but likely hearing me, he turned, locking me in the trap of his familiar gaze.

  His deep-green stare reminded me of a forest, and it left me with more questions than answers. Intrigue. Curiosity that tugged at my heart and circled my throat, threatening to both give me life and take it away simultaneously.

  It was a knife in my chest and a pat on my back, all at once.

  “W-what are you doing here?” I stepped closer, then craned my neck to check the hallway behind me.

  A hesitant smirk danced to one side of his delicious mouth—a mouth I hadn’t gone one night without dreaming of. And then he tugged on his necktie, drawing my attention to the same strip of silk that had opened my world to things I never would’ve guessed I liked.

  “Hey.” One word. That was all he offered.

  It was all it took to make me want to climb him like a tree.

  “Why are you here?” I asked again.

  �
��Uh . . .” He blinked up at the panel above the mirrored doors, likely checking how long he had to answer my question by how many floors stood between the cart and us. Either that or he was desperate to get away from me. “Just waiting on an elevator to take me downstairs.”

  “Oh, did you have a private party tonight?”

  He cleared his throat, once again tugging on his tie. “Something like that.”

  “What are you supposed to be? Where’s your costume?”

  “It’s not that kind of party.” He shifted on his feet before slowly dragging his gaze up my body. “Listen . . . we should probably talk.”

  That was enough to snap me out of my daze, reminding me that I stood in front of the unnamed stripper, the one I’d been convinced I’d never find. The one who’d accidentally fathered the child I’d never thought I wanted until yesterday.

  “Yeah. We definitely need to talk.”

  “All right. You first.”

  It was my turn to check the numbers, noting that someone must’ve pulled some strings to give us more time to have this conversation. “So I know we said we wouldn’t see each other again. But that was before—”

  “Oh, look.” Tatum sidled up next to me, weaving her arm through mine at the same time Jason came around the side, moving to stand next to my unborn child’s father. “You’re still here.”

  “That was fast.” I scrunched my nose, unsure what they could’ve possibly done in the ten seconds they were in the room.

  She rolled her eyes, a smile plastered on her face. “What can I say? He knows my buttons.”

  “That’s gross. I never wanna hear such filth come out of your mouth again.” I turned away from my best friend, setting my sights on the man in front of me. It wasn’t lost on me that he looked even sexier when my brain wasn’t swimming in tequila, which was a dangerous thought to have, what with how close he stood . . . in a hotel. That had lots of beds.

  Yet my lack of attention didn’t stop Tatum from speaking. “I take it you two met?”

  His pupils constricted, the green darkening, as he kept his eyes on mine. Only then did I contemplate Tatum’s question, wondering why he’d have any type of reaction to it. But before I could ask anything—or even look away from his demanding gaze—he said, “Yeah. We’ve met.”

  “Good. That saves us the introductions.” The elevator door chose that second to open. But I couldn’t move, even as Tatum tried to drag me by the arm. The only thing that got my feet to move was what she said next. “Kels, Aaron, come on. We have a wedding to rehearse.”

  Aaron.

  Jason’s friend.

  The guy who’d be living with me for a few months.

  The stripper.

  The father of my child.

  One and the same.

  There was just no way this was real life.

  Chapter 8

  Aaron

  Nothing ever turned out the way I planned—nothing.

  I’d tried to pull Kelsey aside a few times at the rehearsal as well as at the dinner afterward, yet it seemed there was one interruption after another. Her family was the biggest issue—specifically her mother, who did nothing but stick her phone in everyone’s face for a picture. And when it was over, Kelsey had taken Tatum back to their room at the hotel, leaving me once again unable to have a conversation with her.

  Obviously, I hadn’t been able to see her before the ceremony, as she’d spent the entire time with Tatum, and I’d been with Jason. The reception was the first chance I had to speak to her—other than the sixty seconds up and down the aisle, which wasn’t the place to discuss where I’d live in a week. But even then, she made it impossible to be near her.

  That was . . . until she excused herself from dinner and ran out.

  I didn’t bother following her into the women’s bathroom or even knocking. Instead, I waited just outside the door for her to finish whatever the hell she was doing in there. And several long minutes later, she rewarded me with her presence—glassy eyes, runny nose, and all.

  “Everything all right?” I held her wrists to keep her from running off again.

  “Yeah.” She sniffled, which wasn’t typically a sign of being all right. “I didn’t realize until too late that they gave me veal.”

  Still, I didn’t understand. “Is that not what you ordered?”

  “Honestly, I don’t remember what I marked on the card. I think I just circled something because I was tired of Tatum complaining that mine was the only one they were waiting on.” She shrugged, pulling her hands from my grip.

  “I take it you don’t like veal?”

  “I don’t like eating baby anything.” She covered her pale lips with her fingers while staring at the center of my chest. It seemed like she might’ve been on the verge of vomiting . . . possibly again. “Can we not talk about it?”

  “Sorry. I got the vegetarian dish if you want to swap.”

  Disgusted eyes met mine. “You wanna eat the baby cow? What the f—”

  “No.” I shook my head and fought to keep my laughter under wraps. “I just meant that if you want, you can have my plate. I’ve barely touched it.”

  “Why?”

  “Um . . .” I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I did the best I could with the vague question she posed. “Because you don’t like what you have? I’m not going to make you starve. That would be rude of me.”

  Finally, the tiniest smile danced on her lips. “No, I meant why did you barely touch your plate?”

  I glanced to the side and noticed a bench against the wall. Gently taking her hand, I nodded toward it and led her a few feet to take a seat. “Let’s talk. Things have been hectic, and we haven’t really had a chance to say anything to one another.”

  “About why you don’t want your food? If it’s that serious, I don’t want it, either.”

  I couldn’t withhold my amusement anymore. “No, not about that. About us. What happened a few weeks ago. What we have ahead of us.”

  “Listen, I appreciate the fact that you want to take a walk down memory lane, but I don’t really think our best friends’ wedding is the place to do that. Do you?”

  Smirking, I said, “I didn’t plan on going over the details, if that’s what you’re worried about. I just need to make sure you’re still good with me moving in next weekend.” I held up a hand to keep her from interrupting before I had a chance to get out everything I needed to say. “If you’re not, I understand. Trust me. But I’d rather you tell me now than wait until I’m all moved in.”

  “Tatum said you didn’t have anywhere else to go.” That sounded like something Tatum would say, especially if her motive was to guilt Kelsey into doing what she wanted. She was a smart girl. “Plus, how are you going to find something else in a week?”

  “Don’t worry about that. It’s not your burden to take on; it’s mine.”

  “I’m not going to be responsible for someone being homeless, Aaron.”

  My back met with the wall behind me as I expelled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d held in. It came out like a huff, though she likely assumed it to be a sigh. And with my sight glued to the ceiling, I grumbled, “I won’t be homeless.”

  “Then where will you go? Tatum said you’re being evicted.”

  That was enough to pull a barking laugh from my chest. “Evicted? Wow, that was mighty nice of her. No. The house I was living in sold, so I had four weeks to find somewhere to go.”

  “Then why haven’t you found a place if you were given so much time? Didn’t the owners tell you that they were putting the house up for sale?” It appeared she hadn’t been told anything about my situation. Tatum could’ve at least given her some of the facts.

  “I knew they were putting the house on the market. What I didn’t expect was for it to be in escrow three days later. As for the four weeks I was given to move out . . . I’ve been looking, but it’s hard when I only need something temporarily.” And assuming Tatum hadn’t told her any of this, either, I carried on. “I want to buy a
house, so renting something for the next twelve months would be pointless.”

  Her eyes lit up, excitement coloring her cheeks until she no longer looked like she’d just finished hugging a toilet in a fancy dress. “I have lots of connections in the real estate business—I stage a lot of their homes for open houses.”

  “Yeah, Jason told me. That’s why he thought you could help me out.”

  Before she could do or say anything, we were interrupted. By a blonde. The very same one from the bachelorette party—the one who couldn’t stop hopping and clapping.

  “Have we met before?” She pointed at me and stared with squinted eyes.

  “Uh . . . I don’t think so.” I turned to Kelsey for help.

  “He’s Jason’s best friend. You might’ve seen him around Tatum.”

  “Maybe.” She took one step and then stopped. Snapping her fingers, she swung her wide eyes back to me, flickering them between the two of us. “I remember where I’ve seen you. You’re the stripper from Boots!”

  Heat blanketed my face. “I think you’re mistaken. I’m not a stripper.”

  Never thought those words would ever come out of my mouth.

  “You sure? Because I never forget a face.”

  “Trust me, Rebecca . . .” Kelsey came to my defense. Thank God. “That wasn’t him. I think I would know more than you.”

  At least that was enough to appease the bouncing blonde. Yet instead of leaving, she cocked her head to one side and narrowed her gaze. After the short inspection, she gave a half shrug. “You’re right, although there’s definitely a similarity there. If you hit the gym more, I bet you’d look just like Dr. Phil-Me-Up.” She paused with a finger pressed to her lips. “Well, now that I look again, you might be a couple of years younger, too. He had a sense of wisdom to him.”

  “Uh . . . thanks?” I wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be a compliment, but it didn’t feel like one. Then again, I’d take any reason for her to believe that I wasn’t the stripper from the party and leave.

  Rebecca—whoever she was or wherever she came from—smiled and waved me off. “You’re welcome.” And then she was gone.