Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection

by Parker, Kylie

  “What did she say?” Laurel asks.

  I’m a bit shaky. I show Laurel the text that plainly reads: It’s a girl. Thought you should know…

  “Oh my God!” Laurel shrieks. “I can’t believe it! You are going to have to dress up as Prince Charming again for this little girls birthday one year.”

  I laugh. It just suddenly feels so real now. “I’m having a daughter,” I say, and vocalizing it just makes it even realer. I text Brandi a sincere thank you for letting me know and ask her if she needs anything. She respond: I’m good… let me know if you have any good names in mind…

  I show Laurel the text. “That’s a good sign, right? If she’s asking for my help in picking out a name, right?”

  “I’d say so,” Laurel smiles and then gives me a kiss on the lips. “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Laurel, this isn’t weird, is it? For you, I mean?” I ask.

  “What? My boyfriend’s about to have a baby with his ex-wife? Nah,” she laughs.

  “Oh, I was talking about us kissing while wearing costumes?”

  “Oh,” she blushes.

  “I’m joking,” I say, “But seriously. You’re really okay with all of this?”

  She kisses me again. “Of course. I love you, Jonathan, and I couldn’t be happier for you. You’re going to be a dad, and I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

  “You’re amazing,” I say and kiss her again. “All right, Cinderella, you’re driving me crazy –Prince Charming wants to see what you look like out of that dress.”

  She laughs. “All right, easy there, Charming.” She kisses me again, and we hurry off to the bedroom.

  59

  “You know,” Laurel taunts slightly from the passenger’s seat of my car, “I’m really starting to grow attached to this old bug.”

  “You miss the pink, don’t you?” I ask as we pull down onto her street, headed home after a long day at the gym.

  “Nah. I dig the new racing stripe,” she says, laughing slightly. We have been driving to the gym together for about four weeks now –ever since we had moved in together. It’s been really nice. Things have been going really well at work, and I’ve won two matches in the past few weeks too. Caleb seems to think he’ll be able to get me a higher priority match before too long.

  As we are pulling up outside of our apartment, Laurel suddenly reaches over and slaps my arm. “What the hell?” I snap, but I look to see what she is pointing at. I stare. “Is that Brandi?”

  There she is, just sitting there on a bench with her big, round pregnant belly outside of our apartment building. “Why is she here?” Laurel questions as the two of us climb out of the car. It’s not like we can avoid being seen by her; she’s sitting right outside of the apartment entrance.

  She stands up when she sees us, and she looks down in embarrassment when she sees that I’m not by myself. She speaks, but she keeps her head down. “Hello,” she says uncomfortably, “Um… you must be Laurel.”

  Laurel puts on a fake smile. “Yes, that’s me. You must be Brandi. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  “Brandi, what are you doing here?” I ask, not willing to make small talk.

  “Can we talk?” she asks, still looking down at her feet.

  “Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Laurel,” I hiss slightly; I haven’t heard from her since she told me we were having a daughter; she’s been ignoring me for four weeks.

  “No, Jonathan,” Laurel slaps my arm for being rude. “It’s fine. I’ll give you two some space…” Laurel suddenly pauses as she gazes on Brandi. She suddenly says, “Look up at me,” in such a firm voice that Brandi could not possibly deny the request.

  She looks up and I see this big, purple black eye. My insides churn, and I become so angry that I can feel my ears becoming warm. “I’ll fucking kill him,” I snarl, and I’m tempted to go get in the car right now to hunt the son of a bitch down.

  Brandi tucks her hair behind her ear –it’s one of her many nervous habits. “Did that jackass fucking hit you?” Laurel snarls. “You’re fucking pregnant! If Jonathan doesn’t kill him, I fucking will!”

  Brandi fidgets slightly. “I shouldn’t have come here…. I’m sorry. I’ll-”

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Laurel snags her hand. “Come upstairs. You and Jonathan can talk; it’s fine. I’ll make you some coffee or… or tea, or whatever,” Laurel is not friendly in her tone towards Brandi, but she is definitely sympathetic.

  The three of us head up to mine and Laurel’s apartment. Brandi just asks for some water, and Laurel obliges. “I hope you left him?” Laurel asks nosily.

  “Believe me, I’m not stupid,” Brandi hisses slightly as we invite her to sit down on our couch. “I left Jonathan for a lot less than this.”

  I cringe slightly at the comment, but she’s right. I certainly never intended to hurt her, but from the look of the shiner she’s modelling it had been quite intentional. “What happened, Brandi?” I ask as I sit down beside her.

  Brandi glances over at Laurel uneasily. Laurel gives her a sympathetic nod. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” she assures and then leaves the two of us –heading back to our bedroom so that we can talk privately.

  I look at Brandi, and she looks so humiliated to be here. “I’m sorry, Jonathan,” she says. “I shouldn’t be here.”

  “No, I’m glad you came,” I smile at her. “I do miss you, you know?”

  “I know. I miss you too,” she says, playing with her hair again. “I guess I deserved this, didn’t I?”

  “Don’t say that,” I say, “Brandi, you haven’t done a damn thing wrong.”

  “Of course I have,” she says, “I only started dating Donte because I knew it would piss you off.”

  “Well damn,” I say, “okay, that is a little harsh, I’ll admit.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she stars crying. “God, I hate being fucking pregnant! I cry all the fucking time!”

  “All right, easy,” I say and scoot closer to her. “What’s going on, Brandi? What can I do? How’s the baby?”

  She smiles and touches her stomach. “The baby is fine. She’s doing real good, Jonathan. She kicks me all the time. Hold on, here,” she grabs my hand and puts it on my stomach. “Just wait; she’ll kick. She always does.”

  I wait for a second, and I feel this little thud against my hand. This smile appears on my face –a real, honest smile. That’s my daughter I’m feeling. “Wow,” I say, completely breathless. After a moment, I put my hand away. “Brandi, I’m glad you’re here, really, but why did you come here?”

  She looks at me sadly. “The truth is, Jonathan, the reason Donte hit me was because I told him I was leaving him. I threw him out, and he lost his mind. The reason is because I miss you. I really do. I want you to come home.”

  “What?” I question.

  “I want you to come home,” she says, and she starts crying again. “I should have been there for you. I was just so scared and angry at you. I thought you wouldn’t change. I thought you would just drink yourself to death. I found out I was pregnant the day of the match against you and Donte; I was going to tell you, but then all that craziness happened in the locker room. I just kept thinking –is this really what my child needs? I left you because I thought you would never change for me –for us. For the baby. I left you because I thought you’d just get worse and worse. But I was so wrong about you. You have changed. I’ve been… I’ve been keeping up with you. Marty would probably kill me for telling you this, but he gives me updates. Don’t be mad at him; I’ve asked him to. He’s told me all about your job at the gym, about your new manager, your AA meetings, and pretty much everything… about Laurel too. So I know that this is not fair of me to just show up here all of a sudden. I should have been there for you the way Laurel was. I want you to come home, baby.”

  I stare at her. What do I say to her? “Brandi…” I grumble slightly. What do I say? I don’t know. I glance back at the bedro
om door where Laurel is probably waiting on me to wrap this conversation up.

  Brandi catches me staring off towards the bedroom door. “I’m too late, aren’t I?” she asks.

  “I…” I stammer. “I don’t know.”

  Brandi fiddles with her fingers for a moment. “I want you to be a part of her life,” she says as she rubs her stomach. “Whether you are a part of mine or not. I just… I just hope that you do want to be part of mine.” She touches my hand, and I yank it away.

  “I don’t know,” I say again.

  She nods. “I understand. I do want you to come home, Jonathan. I really do. I’m just so sorry it took me this long to realize how much I miss you. If you need time to think about it, I understand. I’m going home; it’s getting late.” She stands and makes her way towards the door. She pauses and turns back to look at me; she smiles, “By the way, I really love what you did with that old Volkswagen,” she leaves, closing the door behind her.

  After a few minutes of sitting there in total shock, I wander back to mine and Laurel’s bedroom. Laurel is sitting there, her nose in some book, when I enter. She looks up. “Is she gone?” she asks.

  “Yeah, she’s gone,” I say and plop down beside her.

  Laurel puts her book away. “What did she say?”

  I wring my writs, and I lie to her face. “She just said she wants me to be a part of the baby’s life and that she was sorry for keeping it a secret for so long.”

  Laurel smiles brightly; she’s so happy for me. “Jonathan! That’s great! I knew she’d come around,” she gives me this big kiss and puts me in a headlock. “See? I told you! I told you everything would work out.”

  I force myself to laugh. “Yeah, you did. Thank you.”

  She kisses me and pulls me towards her, but I just sort of lay my head down on my pillow, gently pulling away. “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “It’s just been a long day,” I say.

  She raises a brow, “You’re going to bed? It’s eight thirty.”

  “Sorry,” I grumble, “I’m just exhausted.”

  She shrugs. “All right, I’ll let you sleep,” she teases and kisses my forehead. “Goodnight, I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  60

  It’s five in the morning, but I have just about finished packing up all of the necessities into the hood of the Volkswagen. I feel terrible; I feel like absolute shit as I sneak back up to the apartment to grab one last box. I start throwing in a bunch of my clothes, knowing that Laurel will be up soon. I don’t intend to just disappear on her; I wouldn’t do that to her. I just figured going ahead and getting most of my things out of her hair would make this a little easier. Plus, she seems like the kind of woman who would set all my shit on fire.

  Laurel comes wandering out of the bedroom as I finish up the last box. She’s wearing an old t-shirt and just her underwear; she likes to sleep comfortably, but it looks so sexy on her. She rubs her eyes, and she instantly sees the box. “What are you doing?” she asks, yawning slightly.

  I hate this. I really hate this. “Hey,” I say, and she picks up on the terror in my tone. “We need to talk.”

  She looks at me and then back at the box and then back at me. She shakes her head. “No,” she says angrily, “No, you’re not.”

  It had not taken me long to decide what I needed to do. Brandi had just been by last night, so I’m sure it’s fresh on Laurel’s mind. She knows exactly what I’m doing. “Laurel, listen-” I start to say, and I step towards her.

  I see it coming, but I don’t stop it. She slaps the shit out of me, and she’s no Brandi. Laurel has a serious swing. I don’t do anything about it, though. I just stand there staring back her, so she does it again. Damn, that hurts. There are tears starting to form in her eyes. Her hands form fists at her sides. “You’re just going to leave? Just like that?” she asks me. “That’s all it took? That’s all it took is for her to just show up, and you’re gone?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, and she punches me in my chest hard enough that it makes me step back.

  “You’re sorry? That’s it? You’re just leaving me?” she questions, and I see her eyes starting to water.

  “What do you want me to say, Laurel?” I question. “She’s having my child. I’m going to be a father. She wants me to come home. If I can salvage my family, shouldn’t I?” She goes to slap me again, but this time I don’t just stand there and let her. I grab her wrists. “That’s enough!” I shout. “I’m not your damn punching bag!”

  She starts crying, and I feel her head fall onto my chest. I loosen my grip, and she slowly slips her arms out of my grasp and wraps them around my waist. “Don’t leave,” she says, “please don’t leave.”

  My throat tightens; I drop my arms and wrap her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Laurel,” I say and I lean down to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  She pulls away from me, and I watch her wipe her cheeks. “Just go,” she says, her voice incredibly soft –her tone broken.

  “Laurel-”

  She holds upper hand, letting me know there is not a damn thing I can say to make her hurt go away. “Just go,” she says again, and I almost would have preferred that she sounded angry when she said it. She just sounds hurt.

  I grab my box and take one last look at her; she’s so beautiful. She’s so kind. She’s truly wonderful, and I’m just going to walk out. I close the door behind me, and I can hear her bedroom door slam, and I picture her jumping onto her bed and burying her face into a pillow to scream. I drag my feet down the stairs to the main floor and out towards my car, throwing the last box into the back seat. I get into the driver’s seat and grip the steering wheel, but I don’t start the car.

  Am I really doing this? I shake my head and crank the car, pulling out into the road to head to my old mansion where I know Brandi will be waiting for me. I’m so sorry, Laurel. I am so sorry.

  61

  I stare down at Brandi as she sleeps peacefully in our bed –her round, pregnant belly is still evident under the thin layer of sheets. She had thrown the comforter off of herself in the middle of the night after a slight night sweat –likely due to the pregnancy. I stand and stretch; my back aches. The bed had been way too soft. I’ve slept in my ex-wife’s bed for the past two nights, and it’s killing my body. It’s weird; this used to be my bed. I had slept on it for years, but after several months of sleeping on Tyler’s hard couch and Laurel’s less than-fluffy mattress, this soft crap is just not doing it for me anymore.

  Without waking Brandi, I head out of the room and down the stretch of hall. I start to walk down the large stairwell, but I stop quickly and turn back around to go grab a robe. I’m down to just my underwear, and after what happened yesterday morning I’m not going traipsing around my house half-naked. Yesterday I had given the maid and the cook an eyeful when I headed into the breakfast nook. I guess there are a few things I’ve gotten out of habit of doing while I have been away.

  Once I’ve got a robe on, I head back downstairs and enter into the small kitchen area. I’m thinking pancakes, but I suddenly catch a whiff of ham. That’s right; I asked the cook to prepare ham and eggs this morning. I guess that works. As I am sitting down at the bar, Marie enters from the back kitchen area with a plate of ham, eggs, and biscuits –all freshly made. She smiles and plops it down in front of me, and I’ve never realized how weird this is until now. I had spent years living this sort of catered lifestyle after my boxing career had skyrocketed, but just a few months away from it –a few months of actually having to make my own breakfast and drive myself around and a number of other chores I had never done –and this just seems so strange.

  “Thanks, Marie,” I say and nibble on the ham. I had really been craving pancakes, but I’m not about to ask her to go back into the kitchen to make me some after I had requested ham last night when they had taken my order. Taken my order –what is this, a restaurant? Yeah, I guess it is, in a way. This huge house seems so
ridiculous now. I miss the little apartment Laurel and I had started sharing; it was cozy, and it had everything we needed.

  “Of course, Mr. Trial,” she says happily and pours me some orange juice upon request.

  My phone goes off, and I slip it out of my robe pocket and have a look. It’s a message from Tyler. I sigh; he and Marty have both been messaging me for the past couple of days, and all of their messages have been since ignored. I skim through all of the recent messages from Tyler –none of them are good.

  WTF man?

  Marianna told me about you and Laurel!

  You went back to Brandi!?!?

  Where are you?

  Laurel’s really upset.

  Laurel is looking for you.

  Dude, seriously?

  Where R U?

  And, the most recent one:

  I swear to God if you ignore one more text I’m shoving your phone down your throat next time I see you.

  Nice. Tyler’s comments are fairly benign compared to Marty’s. That’s kind of ironic considering that Marty had been spying on me for Brandi… of course all of that was before he knew Brandi was hiding her pregnancy from me. Even good boy lawyer Bobby has been texting me, but he’s been a lot nicer about it. Then there’s Laurel’s friends –the other female fighters, and they are anything but nice. Especially psycho Britany. Marianna has probably been the nicest of that group, but that’s only because she’s been seeing Tyler.

  I sigh and send Tyler a quick text. I’ll talk later. Hopefully that will hold him over for the time being. What did they expect me to do? My wife wanted me back –my pregnant wife! I had something good with Laurel, but I had something good with Brandi too. I really did once upon a time, and now that she wants to try to make things work –shouldn’t I? She’s pregnant with my baby girl; I can’t just walk away from that. I had been the one to screw things up; Brandi had every reason to leave me. I can’t blame her at all for leaving –for throwing me out and starting all of this craziness. I was the one who lost his job. I was the one who was drinking like a lunatic. I was the one who knocked her over on live television –humiliating her and labelling me as a misogynist in accordance to the local media. Everything happening, every uncomfortable emotion I am feeling, I completely deserve. I can’t blame Brandi for that. I got my life back together, and she’s giving me a second chance. I just hate that I left Laurel hanging the way I did.