The Good Twin's Baby

by Vivien Vale

  “Shit, it’s Lawrence.”

  I watch the features of Carter’s face shift and contort from one crazy emotion to the next as he draws the phone to his ear and cautiously expels the world ‘Hello?’ to his twin waiting on the other end of the line.

  I hear Lawrence’s gruff voice spewing from the speaker, but the words are too muffled for me to understand.

  Staring with curiosity and a racing heart, I wait and watch as Carter nods, says ‘uh-huh’, and ‘yeah’ a few times.

  After he hangs up from his brother, I gulp and take a deep breath, sitting up straight. Planting a fake smile on my face, I inquire about the phone call.

  “What was that about?” I don’t want to sound presumptuous, thinking that his conversation was even remotely my business, but curiosity gets the better of me, and I ask anyway.

  Carter runs a hand through his hair and scratches the back of his neck after heaving a dramatic sigh.

  “Well…he, uh…” he trails off and gives me a sheepish smile. “He wants me to meet him at our favorite bar.”

  “Oh?” I raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Right now?”

  “It sounds urgent,” Carter’s eyes flash with something unrecognizable, almost panic.

  “Okay.”

  I lean back against the pillows and size him up, investigating his movements as he hastily jumps from the bed and walks over to his dresser to pull out a clean pair of boxer shorts.

  Carter spins back around after climbing into his boxers and stares at me for a brief moment or two.

  Then, he takes a few bountiful strides to stand next to me on the bed, where he plants his feet assertively on the floor.

  His facial features are blend of contemplation and defiance. Finally, he hangs his head and sags his shoulders, a side of Carter that I’m not used to seeing.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

  His voice is hushed and soft, almost as if he’s trying to get me to talk him out of it—but I won’t.

  “No.” I sit up sharply and slide the crisp white sheets over my chest. “You need to go.”

  Carter glances up at me, searching my face for answers I’m not sure I can provide.

  “You think it’s a good idea?”

  “Absolutely.” I nod adamantly for effect.

  “He sounds urgent,” Carter offers.

  “That’s why you should go.” I give him a lecturing stare.

  Carter begins pacing the room fretfully. “I shouldn’t leave you.”

  I scoff and laugh, but the noise comes out as more of a snort than anything else.

  “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself for a few hours while you’re gone.”

  He gazes at me fondly. “You’re so trusting.”

  “Are you thinking about picking up some hookers on the way to the bar or something?” I tease.

  “No, but…” Carter trails off, chuckling.

  “Then I shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

  I walk over to him, floating across the room to wrap my arms around him while his back is turned to me.

  I’m still naked, and I press my breasts against his bare back. I know he can feel my nipples poking into his skin.

  I’m also fully aware of the fact that it’s turning him on, because of the huge tent is peaking at attention underneath his boxer shorts.

  “Family means a lot to me.” I whisper the words in his ear, trying to distract him and coax him into going to meet Lawrence.

  Carter chuckles with a cynical undertone, as if he’s not sure he believes me.

  “I know how much Lawrence means to you,” I remind him and begin to stroke his back with my fingertips.

  I smile, relishing with delight in the way his skin responds with chill bumps that prickle just above the surface.

  I rub my hands over the perfect carvings of his muscular body, and he moans softly in response.

  He feels amazing to the touch, and I can’t believe his seed is inside of me, growing into a beautiful human being.

  “Carter?” I ask and stop stroking his body, because he hasn’t said anything in a long while.

  “I’m just…enjoying the rub,” he laughs.

  “Are you going to go?”

  My question clings to the air like a dense fog in the night. I know it’s not my place to persuade Carter one way or another, but deep down, I know he understands the importance of family, especially when it comes to his brother.

  “I’m going to go.”

  I sigh with relief as Carter rushes around the room, scrambling to get dressed in a flustered hurry.

  He places a Rolex watch on his wrist and throws on a collared, button-down Ralph Lauren shirt.

  Buttoning it, he walks over to me and juts his lips out to extend a kiss my way. The kiss makes me feel warm and fuzzy, and I melt into his arms.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press him closer to me, but I know he has to go soon. Panting, I push him away. “You’ll be back soon, and we can pick back up right where we left off.”

  Carter gives me a lustful gaze, and the flame in my heart grows to an enormous size.

  “I’ll see you later,” he says and blows me another kiss when he gets to the door.

  I wave goodbye and catch his kiss, pressing it to my chest to seal it into my heart. I only hope everything is going to be okay between Carter and Lawrence, because I never want to see Carter hurting in any way.

  Chapter 23

  Carter

  The metal peephole in the door scrapes open after I deliver the obligatory secret knock: one long, two short, two long.

  “Password?” The bouncer’s husky voice is muffled from behind the door.

  “Blitzkrieg,” I say tiredly. I’m actually still a bit in disbelief—but I think June might have actually worn me out, the insatiable little minx.

  June. I should be there with her right now, ordering us something healthy for dinner, or kissing her stomach, or rubbing her feet, or just showing her how incredible she is and how much she means to me.

  Just there fucking taking care of her, making sure every single want and need of hers is covered.

  Truth be told, I don’t know what exactly a pregnant woman needs at this point, apart from love and support. But the new life that I’ve planted within her has me feeling like a new man—a better man.

  Protective. Primal.

  But first, I need to deal with my asshole of a brother, get him to rehab, and then get back home to my wife.

  Um, girlfriend, I mean…or whatever June is to me at this point.

  The point is, this is the last place in the world I want to be.

  The things I do out of brotherly love.

  It takes my eyes a while to adjust to the dim lighting. I can’t believe I used to frequent this place. Boy, it seems so long ago.

  An entire lifetime, in fact.

  Is this another facet of approaching fatherhood? Sudden insights into life?

  I’m not sure how I feel about that—so much instant wisdom could be difficult to process.

  Perhaps I need to really fucking study this pregnancy shit like I never have before.

  With the career I’ve had, I’ve gotten to know a few things, but I’m realizing just how few those things are.

  A redhead appears next to me. She starts getting really close.

  “Well, hello there, Adonis. You look a bit lonely,” she purrs into my ear.

  This place was bad enough before this woman started whispering and seemingly trying to blind me with a thick cloud of cheap perfume.

  She’s wearing a little black dress so short, not much is left to the imagination. There are strategic holes in the material, and upon closer inspection, I think she’s barely covered in anything at all.

  “Not tonight,” I shift my bar stool away from her.

  She sticks to me like she’s made out of goddamn rubber cement.

  “Look, lady,” I turn to her, trying to keep as much distance as possible between us. “I’m not here to put my
cock into some pussy. I’ve got...”

  Fuck it, I can’t go on.

  For starters, I don’t want to blab about June’s pregnancy, and second, in that very moment, I spot Lawrence.

  He’s sitting by the bar—but he’s not alone.

  My heart drops down to my feet.

  It can’t be her.

  Can it?

  I mean, why would she be here?

  I barely notice the redhead leave. As though I’m in a trance, I make my way over to Lawrence and his companion.

  She’s wearing a tight, cherry red dress. When I say tight, I mean it looks about two sizes too small. It’s also so short you can just about see her slip.

  Being strapless, her tits are almost completely hanging out as well. All in all, the entire picture is cheap and nasty.

  But as I draw closer, it looks like her face is desperately trying to transmit superiority, and class.

  “Ah, there you are, brother dear,” Lawrence slurs his words ever so slightly.

  The five o’clock shadow look on his face has turned into the ten o’clock look. Even in this light, I can tell his eyes are bloodshot.

  My hands are by my side. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself. This shit’s putting me on edge even more than I fucking am already.

  “I believe you’ve met my companion before.”

  Dramatically, he points to the woman beside him.

  At the sight of her so close, my whole body tenses. All my muscles contract, ready to pounce into action. But the only action I’d feel somewhat okay about doing right now is sprinting away from this fucking hellhole.

  “Chantal,” I mumble and make sure my hands stay buried deep within my pockets.

  “How good to see you, Carter,” she smiles brightly at me.

  I don’t return the smile. I glower at both of them.

  Her blonde hair does not look as well styled as it has in the past. In fact, it looks as if she’s not washed it in a few days. It looks kind of frizzy, which could be the way she meant to style it, or because she hasn’t brushed it in a couple of days.

  By now, I’m kicking myself for having agreed to come here. It’s obvious Lawrence set me up. Calling me on a pretense to come here and rescue him, only to find him here with my ex-girlfriend.

  Had she even been my girlfriend?

  Emotions swirl through me like a fucking tornado.

  June. Think of June, I remind myself. Think of June and of your unborn son or daughter.

  The thoughts give me a little comfort.

  “I wanted you to be the first to share in my new—sorry, our news.” Lawrence interrupts my thoughts.

  Sediment settles in the pit of my stomach. It forms into a pebble, a stone, a rock, then a fucking mountain.

  “What news?” I ask despite myself.

  I really didn’t want to know, and yet I’m doing this shit again. I’m like the onlooker at an accident, the person turning up the news just to hear the bad.

  I’m fucking doing it when I shouldn’t. I should learn, make an effort to turn away from bad news.

  Instead of listening to whatever crap they’re going to tell me now, I should turn around and walk out.

  Easier said than fucking done.

  My brain and my legs don’t seem to be connected right now. The signal isn’t getting through. Someone’s standing on the line.

  The train is approaching at breakneck speed, and there are no breaks. I’m standing here, watching the inevitable crash, unable to get myself the fuck away from it.

  “Chantal and I are going to be married.”

  The impact. Is there a lot of fucking pain? Or just no feeling at all?

  Or something in between?

  I’m not sure.

  “And Chantal is pregnant.”

  What the fuck? Am I hearing things?

  I knew I didn’t want to know and probably should’ve fucking left before hearing this shit; but the fact of the matter is that when I saw them together, I already fucking knew everything.

  But I still should’ve just fucking left.

  Lawrence hands me a glass. I feel dazed and barely notice what he’s handed me.

  “A toast, brother dear, to us. To me and Chantal and our baby,” he lifts his glass up high, and, in the process, spills half of its contents.

  Chantal giggles.

  My insides turn inside out.

  I look at them through a fog.

  Is Chantal drinking alcohol?

  It would seem fucking so, wouldn’t it?

  With disbelief, I shake my head. How can she be pregnant?

  Okay, I don’t need a fucking biology lesson. I know how she got pregnant. But why would she keep his baby over mine?

  It doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

  I stare into Lawrence’s sick-looking face. His smile seems both sinister and fucking fake at the same time.

  Without a word, I throw the contents of my glass into my brother’s face.

  It’s time to do what I should’ve done before this fiasco had a chance to get started.

  I walk with fucking purpose to the exit and out the door. My brother’s sick laughter haunts me all the way to the car.

  He thinks he’s won.

  First, he tries to fuck my girlfriend, and now he has the nerve to introduce Chantal as his wife-to-be and the mother of his child.

  I slide into my car and floor it.

  Aimlessly, I drive through the streets. I turn left, right, and left again. I go straight ahead and onto a bridge out of town.

  I just drive. I needed to keep driving.

  Why am I taking this so badly? A few hours ago, I’d been happily fucking June, telling her I loved her, that I loved her like I’ve never loved anyone.

  And it’s true. Even here in the car, alone, I know I love her.

  Why, then, am I so rattled? Why should I even fucking care what my brother does?

  Fuck it. It’s time to let it all go.

  Breathe in and out, in and out.

  I drum the fingers of my hand on the steering wheel. My eyes are fixed on the road. By now, I’ve managed to leave the city traffic behind, and I’m rolling on an empty highway in the suburbs.

  My car zooms at a hundred miles an hour, and I press on the accelerator to go even faster.

  Huge raindrops start to assault my windshield. The rain only takes about a second to get fucking heavy as shit.

  I need to take it easy. I mean, I’m going to be a father.

  I need to be more responsible.

  I’m going to be a father.

  Father.

  I mull over the word.

  I didn’t want to be a father like my father.

  And yet what am I doing right now?

  Fucking running away.

  What if I’m already like my father?

  What if it’s too late to do anything about it?

  That thought frightens me to my core.

  I need to make sense of my feelings. I need to take charge.

  I need to see June.

  Chapter 24

  June

  I don’t know where he is. I don’t know how long it will be until he’s home again.

  I just hope he’s okay.

  It’s a silly thing to worry about. If there’s one thing I can count on when it comes to Carter Abraham, it’s that he can take care of himself.

  He’s strong. A protector. The kind of man who can come out of anything on the right side of it, even if he has to put up a fight.

  Which doesn’t stop me from worrying. Not in the least.

  Because if there’s one thing I can count on when it comes to Lawrence Abraham, it’s that wherever he goes, trouble follows—and then it’s Carter’s job to mop up the mess left in his twin’s wake.

  I pull my robe around me tighter, relishing the feel of the pale blue satin against my skin. Ever since our child started growing in my womb, my body has entered a whole new world of experiencing sensation. Every cool breeze, every delicious smell, every p
leasant sound seems to vibrate through my entire system with waves of pleasure.

  It’s been making me freaking insatiable lately, if I’m being completely honest.

  …god, I hope Carter comes home soon.

  The way that goodbye felt, I thought for sure it would last me for a while.

  And it did last me for a while—but that while has long since passed, and loneliness is creeping up at a surprisingly hasty pace.

  Spreading my limbs out on the bed like a space-hungry starfish, it begins to hit me just how well that goodbye served me.

  According to the unfathomably expensive-looking clock mounted to the wall by the bedroom door, it is now almost three o’clock in the morning.

  Which means I spent hours basking in the lingering glow of our evening of gentle, loving wondrousness.

  It’s an evening that’s been so wondrous indeed that only now am I beginning to realize that the wondrousness has been interrupted—and it’s yet to resume.

  Just how late are the bars here open, anyway?

  Bill’s Roadhouse—a Wheatfield institution since time immemorial—has a strict closing time of twelve-thirty, even on weekends. Rumor has it that some of the wilder places out in Omaha stay open until two some nights, but Manhattan isn’t Omaha.

  It’s supposed to be sophisticated and cosmopolitan here, right?

  Where is he?

  So much for waxing poetic. That marvelous glow that kept me rapt on the bed for so long is taking in a new aura.

  An aura of suffocating anxiety. I need to get off of this darn bed.

  The city continues to buzz far below Carter’s bedroom windows. The faint, pulsing hum of traffic carrying who knows who to who knows where is starting to tie my stomach into knots.

  The feeling of my bare feet making contact with Carter’s plush bedroom carpeting has a calming effect at first. The moment I begin standing up, and putting weight on those feet, I almost topple over.

  It’s been an intoxicating evening, alright. And even though I had nothing to drink, I think the hangover’s starting to kick in.

  Oh, Carter.

  The intoxication could’ve lasted so much longer.

  Hours longer.

  Days, weeks…

  Months.

  There are nine of those in front of me now. This pregnancy is actually happening, but Carter just suddenly ending the celebration out of the blue…