Keep Her

by Faith Andrews

  I looked on with a smile as Marcus toted Luca in his thick, tattooed arms like a proud and doting father. He brought him over to his mother and stood for a family photo by Luca’s birthday cake. They were dressed in Flinstones’ costumes—Fred, Wilma and little Bam Bam. I had to admit, it was adorable.

  Riley and I had settled on Superman and Wonder Woman. She looked sexy as hell in the skintight get-up—you’d never know she was more than two months along. But me—I had to look ridiculous. My balls were jacked up so high in this thing, I’d been squirming all night.

  “I feel like I’m in a dream,” Riley whispered in my ear, resting a red-gloved hand on her still-nonexistent bump.

  Ignoring my crushed nads for a few seconds, I pressed up against my very own super heroine. “Why?” It was a silly question because this was all still as surreal as fuck.

  She nodded in her brother’s direction, smiling. “Look at him, B. Look how happy he is with that little boy in his arms. Luca loves him as if he’s his real daddy, and Tessa—I have never seen her so at peace since I’ve known her.”

  In the past, when Riley reflected on other people’s happiness, there was a hint of jealousy. But this time it was genuine. We had our own happiness to celebrate.

  “You’re right, sweet thing. This is a dream come true.”

  “Thank you,” she hummed, turning her head to gift me with an acceptable-in-public kiss on the mouth.

  “For?” I asked when she pulled away, leaving me wanting more. I tugged on the hem of her cape and brought her back to me.

  “Everything, B. I know this is all fast and sudden and a whole lot more than you signed up for when you got forced to take that cab ride home with me that night, but—you’ve handled it all so well I’m starting to wonder if you actually are Superman.” She poked at the big “S” on my costume.

  I grabbed her hand and brought it up to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “Would you stop this?” She’d been more insecure in this last week than I’d ever known her to be. Any other guy might’ve run after he heard his girlfriend of three months was pregnant with his child, but I had no reason to flee. I wanted this. I wanted a future full of kids with Riley Grayson. I was hell-bent on marrying this girl and loving her until the day I died. I didn’t need ten years of dating to convince me it was right. It was fucking right. Plain and simple. I felt it in my bones. “I love you, babe. That’s all that matters. So quit your worrying and just deal with it, Wonder Woman.”

  “See, you really are my Superman.” She leaned in for another kiss just as her father made his way over from congratulating his soon-to-be daughter-in-law and one-day grandson.

  “Well, you’ve already gotten her pregnant, so what can I warn you about now?” He glared at the two of us, but there was no anger in his eyes. Mr. G was the happiest I’d seen him since he’d lost Mrs. G. Even the news of the pregnancy didn’t make him lose his cool the way I was sure he would.

  When Riley told him how happy she was, that was all he needed to hear. He loved his little girl and was appreciative of the way she took over as the matriarch in keeping their family together. Besides, they’d been through too much turmoil and loss to let the good things in life go uncelebrated. An out of wedlock, unplanned, and complete fucking shock—this baby was a good thing. For all of us.

  “Oh, Daddy, you’ll get used to it,” Riley laughed, draping her arm around her father.

  “I don’t know about that,” he chuckled. “This one and your brother have been up to no good since the day they met. They may be all grown up, but it’s gonna take a little more convincing for me to trust that you and Tessa are in good hands.”

  That was Mr. Grayson—perpetual ball buster. Especially when it came to Marcus and me. Not to say we didn’t deserve a dislocated nutsack for the shenanigans we’d pulled in the past. Like the time we climbed into the neighbor’s treehouse to spy on Mandy Piccardelli while she undressed for bed. We got caught by Mr. Piccardelli, Mr. G’s neighbor and bowling buddy, and Marcus placed the entire blame on me, saying it was my idea. I still didn’t know why his parents believed him, but either way, Marcus landed us both a week’s worth of grounding and my parents made me write an apology note to Mandy. I wasn’t exactly Mr. Popular with the ladies in school after that. No one liked a peeping Tom, it seemed.

  But that was nothing in comparison to the time Marcus snuck Mr. G’s car out before we had our licenses. Typical, cliché, teenage boy story. You’d think we’d taken a joy ride and got caught by the cops or caused an unnecessary fender bender. Nope. Not me and Marcus. We forgot to open the garage door before we put the car in reverse. There was no joy ride that night. But there was a pile of splintered wood and cracked brake lights piled in the Grayson’s driveway. It took a whole year of paper route money to help pay for the damages. And after that Mr. G always eyed me with this look as if to say, “I’m watching you, boy.”

  Miraculously, that look vanished just in time for me to tell him my intentions with Riley. Holy shit, was that divine intervention or what? I didn’t need him breathing down my neck and making me feel inadequate as the man his daughter chose to love. I wanted his blessing. I needed him to accept me as a permanent part of this family and not just some irresponsible friend of his son.

  “Hey, Riley, would you mind grabbing me and Beck a slice of cake? Maybe some coffee too?”

  “Yup,” she smiled. “Anything for my men.” She had to have added the last part in for good measure, maybe even as a warning to her dad. He’d have to share her now. I hoped he’d be okay with that eventually.

  Clapping a hand on my shoulder, Mr. G cleared his throat to get my attention. It got my attention all right. In fact, that look that I’d said was non-existent just two seconds ago—it was back with a vengeance. “Um, everything okay, Mr. G?” I gulped.

  “Calm down, Beck. Everything’s fine. Let an old man have some fun, would ya?”

  “Why is scaring the shit out of me fun?”

  “Because it means I haven’t lost my touch, son.” He was by no means an old man and he certainly hadn’t lost his touch. I once feared for my life around this man. He didn’t have to raise his voice to show you he was mad either—the color of his face did that for you.

  But his grip on my shoulder slackened and the look in his eyes softened. “I want to give you Claire’s ring.”

  I took a breath, ready to object, but he stopped me by bringing his hand up. “Marcus and I already discussed this. It’s Riley’s. Claire wanted her to have it. And I don’t want to step on your toes or tell you that you have to marry her right now—but I think that’s where this is headed, no?”

  I nodded my head up and down, intimidated, unable to speak. Of course that’s where this was headed, but hearing Riley’s father offer me her mother’s ring—this was a big deal. It meant he trusted me. That he approved. That he was giving us his blessing.

  “Sir, I’d be honored. But are you sure?”

  “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” He stared at me with one eyebrow cocked. That look could give any grown man the runs.

  “Of course not. I mean, I intend to… I mean, we want to… it’s just that.” I was a stuttering moron.

  Tapping me upside the head in the most loving way possible, Mr. G calmed my nerves. “Shit, son, talk about tongue tied. Just relax. This is harder for me than it is for you, remember that.”

  I truly felt for him in that moment. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to give your daughter away to another man. No matter how good of a guy he was. Shit, one day I’d be doing this myself if Riley was right in predicting we had our own daughter on the way. I didn’t envy Mr. G right now. He had to have a million different emotions running through his body. Poor son of a bitch. It was my turn to put him at ease. “Mr. G, I promise I will take care of her. This baby too. I’ve never loved anyone like this before and I’m not just telling you what you want to hear. She means everything to me. I won’t mess this up.”

  I saw a glimmer in this tough-as-nail
s man’s eyes. He looked down, hiding the imminent tears, and cleared his throat as his voice became stern again. “Damn right, you won’t. If I can’t kick your ass, I’ll sic Marcus on you.”

  Fuck! Another one who thought Marcus could take me. Didn’t they know I did this shit for a living? I could lift men twice my size, wearing my gear, out of a burning building. Marcus didn’t have a chance against me. But if it made Mr. G feel safer, I’d let him think he did. “I don’t doubt it. In fact, I’ll count on it, but don’t worry. I’m a man of my word. She’s in good hands and I won’t ever let her go.”

  This was business. There was no difference between this meeting with this client and any other meeting I had lined up for the week. Except of course that I hadn’t kissed Mrs. Mitchell, or gone on three dates with Nanette Briggs, oh, and Mr. Shen wasn’t my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s brother.

  Yes, I had a meeting with Griffin today and for some reason it felt like I was cheating on Beck by doing so. Beck still didn’t know that I’d briefly “dated” Griffin and Griffin had no idea I was having Beck’s baby. I hated thinking of it like that too. I had nothing to be ashamed of. I wanted this. We wanted this. Regardless of the baby, Beck and I had made plans to move forward. Instead of doing it at a normal pace, we were going a little more high-speed. Whatever. I didn’t mind, so if anyone else did—they could take their opinion elsewhere.

  “Are you going to tell him?” Fallon asked, peeking over his prized Starbuck’s mug.

  “Tell who?”

  Rolling his eyes, he clicked his tongue and planted his hand on his hip. “John Lennon that you didn’t approve of his marriage to Yoko… Snap out of it, Riles. You’re guilty of lying by omission right now, hun. You need to tell him about this or shit is gonna hit the fan.”

  I shook my head and went about getting my desk in order. “Griffin doesn’t need to know about my baby or about Beck. I owe him nothing, Fal. And by the way, Yoko was a bitch. She broke up The Beatles. If Lennon were alive I’d march right up to him and…”

  He interrupted me with an obnoxious tsk. “Just as I suspected.”

  Slamming down a stack of files, I whined, “What now?”

  “You’re completely off topic. You’re rambling. You totally have baby brain.”

  “Screw you!”

  “No, I’m serious. I wasn’t talking about telling Griffin. You don’t have to tell him anything if you don’t want to, doll. But your man—you know, that kid’s daddy—you need to tell him that you dated Griffin. If he finds out somehow before you tell him—especially since he’s still your client—you’re going to look guilty.”

  That was absurd. He had no idea what he was talking about. Now I was defensive. “But I’m guilty of nothing. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “No, you didn’t and that’s why you should tell him. You know that game telephone?”

  Now who was off topic? “Of course, I know the game. What’s the point?” I was starting to get irritated.

  “The point is that when you play that game the beginning message goes through so many different people, with different inflection in their tones, or varying opinions about the message they heard, or even a mouthful of fucking marbles, that by the time it gets passed around, the end result isn’t always the truth.”

  Okay, maybe I did have baby brain. I had no clue how this had anything to do with the game telephone. I stared at him, clueless as to what the hell he was getting at.

  “Oh my god, Riley. It’s sucking the brain cells by the minute!” He snapped his fingers in front of my face. “If you don’t tell Beck, someone else might, and by the time it gets back to him the whole message can be distorted. Get it?”

  “But there’s nothing to distort, Fallon. I went on a few dates with Griffin and then ended it for Beck. It never went further than a kiss. What’s there to tell?”

  Huffing, he placed his coffee on his desk and coiffed his hair. “Just do it. I’m serious, Riles. The longer you hold it in, the longer it will stress you out.” He grabbed my hand, scowling at my ruined manicure. “Look at your nails. Nice. Great nutrition for your fireman-in-training.”

  “It’s a girl, Fallon. How many times—”

  “As many times as I have to tell to you to tell your boyfriend about Griffin!”

  “You know what, Fal? Take the rest of the day off. I don’t need you fucking with me while Griffin’s here.”

  “You fucking wish, love. I’ve been dying to see Gruff Griff since the last meeting. And, besides, you might need me for back up. Who knows what that baby brain is capable—or incapable—of these days.”

  “I despise you.” I scowled.

  “You adore me.” He blew me a kiss.

  Halfway through my meeting with Griffin, I had lost total focus. No, it wasn’t baby brain, like Fallon had accused me of having. It was guilt. I felt awful for sitting in front of Griffin—who was smiling at me with that adorably, flirty dimple—knowing that I was keeping the news about my pregnancy from him. And the more time that passed with me gaping over this man’s beauty, that guilty-by-association thing Fallon spoke to me about—it was festering inside of me. I was withholding something from the man I loved and I hated that. I wouldn’t like it if the shoe was on the other foot. I’d have to tell Beck about my brief stint with Griffin Dennison just to clear myself of all incrimination.

  But the dude kept staring at me like I was his lunch. “So,” I tried to get his focus off me and back to the design board. “This is what I had in mind for the window treatments. Since we’re closing off that part over there for a darkroom you can actually filter some light into the main room.”

  “Sounds nice,” Griffin said, still staring at me and ignoring my designs.

  “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I finally had to come out with it.

  With a hardy chuckle, he admitted, “Because you’re beautiful. Actually, there’s something different about you this time. Like you’re…” he trailed off in thought, tapping his finger on his salt and pepper scruffed chin.

  If he chose the word “glowing” I was going to piss myself. That was all I needed.

  “Glowing. That’s it! You have this absolute radiant glow about you, Riles.”

  Well, slap me silly and call me Milly. “Griffin, seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. You look gorgeous. Let me take you out again.” He leaned closer, giving me access to a strong whiff of his intoxicating scent.

  Oh, baby brain, stop letting other men flood your senses. “I’m with someone else. You know that.” Thank God Fallon had been called out on an errand. If he saw the way I was squirming, or heard what was going on—I didn’t even want to think about what he’d do.

  “Yes, so you’ve said, but you’ve also been very reserved in your mention of said boyfriend. Could it be you’re just blowing me off?” The combination of the cocked eyebrow, the flirty dimple, and the devilish grin—no good. And I’d be damned if he was going to call me a liar.

  “I’m pregnant, Griffin. So, no, there will be no more dates with you. I only intend to date the father of this child. Now, let’s get back to my designs, unless my condition is a problem for you going forward.”

  Griffin’s eyes went so wide I could see every single fleck of the multi-colored hazel irises. He remained silent for an uncomfortable amount of time, before scratching his head and taking a breath. “Well, that explains the glow.”

  “I guess it does.”

  “How far along?”

  “Almost three months.”

  “Did you know you were when we were… ?”

  “Oh my god, Griffin! Of course not. I would have never started dating another man knowing I was pregnant. What kind of person do you think I am?”

  He didn’t answer me, just continued with his interrogation-like questions. “Are you with him because of this baby?”

  Fuck you, Griffin. “I’m with him because I love him.”

  “Then why did you break up in the first place?”

&nb
sp; “Listen, I don’t have to explain myself to you and I’m sorry for how this all turned out, but… this is how it has to be. I love my boyfriend. We were separated for a little while—during which time you and I, whatever—all because of a misunderstanding. It worked out, the rest is history, or in our case, future. I’m happy, Griffin. I love Beck and I’m sorry for being a bitch, but—”

  Shit! What had I just done? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Damn you, baby brain!

  “Wait? You love who? Did you just say Beck? As in Beck Matthews?” Every time he said his name it reeked of disdain. Whatever Marissa had told Griffin about their breakup did not put Beck in a good light.

  Narrowing his eyes, he asked again. “The father of your baby, the baby you’ve been carrying for almost three months, is Beck Matthews?”

  “Yes.” It came out as a barely audible squeak.

  Standing from his chair and plucking his keys from my desk, he dug something out of his pocket and placed it in the empty spot left by his keys. “This is my card. It has my assistant’s phone number on it. I’ll tell her you’ll be contacting her from here on out with all the plans for the studio.” He tucked a hand in one pocket, combed the other through his short hair, and shook his head. “Good luck to you, Riley. You’ll need it.”

  And then he left.

  The smell of Riley’s doctor’s office made me as uncomfortable as a Montana farm boy sipping tea and crumpets with Queen Elizabeth. It was all so clinical and sanitized and… womanly. I guess it could’ve been worse, considering what the doctor was examining in those back rooms, but the pink and floral decor just made me uneasy. Riley should leave them her card. Do her magic and modernize this joint with some flat screens tuned to SportsCenter. Put us expectant fathers in our element, for Christ’s sake.

  As Riley flipped through a parenting magazine, I people watched. Scoping out the waiting patients—each one larger than the next with bellies that resembled beach balls—I wondered if Riley’s ankles would swell like that one’s over there. Or if her nose would spread across her whole face like that one’s over there. It wasn’t exactly the nicest thing to do, sit there and judge the appearance of these women carrying God’s greatest gift, but—whatever. We’d been in the waiting room for almost an hour. I had to pass the time somehow.