SEAL'd Lips: A Secret Baby Romance

by Roxeanne Rolling

  There’s the sound of a mild one-two clap from somewhere nearby. But it dies out as quickly as it starts.

  Sunny goes red in the face again. He doesn’t like being talked back to. But I’m a good graphic designer, and I don’t take being disrespected. I’m going to stick up for myself, and I’m not afraid of losing my job like everyone else here. As far as I’m concerned, they’re a bunch of sycophants and scaredy cats.

  I can tell everyone nearby is listening, but their heads are hidden by the cubicle dividers.

  “You should have asked for more work,” says Sunny. “You should have come to me and told me you’d finished your work.”

  “You told me never to disturb you,” I say. “You even have a huge sign in front of your office that says not to disturb you unless it’s a natural disaster.”

  “Well,” sputters Sunny.

  But he doesn’t have anything to say.

  “I’m going to be taking the rest of the day off,” I say. “Because I finished my work and I did a great job on it.”

  Sunny doesn’t say anything.

  “OK, Sunny? Is that OK with you?” I speak to him in a condescending way, as if he’s a child.

  Sunny nods and his face is red with anger.

  I turn off my computer, grab my purse, and walk past Sunny towards the elevator.

  “You go girl!” shouts someone from one of the cubicles. It’s probably Sandra, who seems to look up to me even though she’s older than I am.

  Sunny doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing he can say.

  My plan for the afternoon was to go pick up James from daycare and head straight home to cook him dinner. But now I have an extra hour to kill.

  Someone almost runs into me as I walk out the door.

  “Excuse me,” I say.

  I look up, and suddenly see that it’s not just anyone. It’s Noah.

  “Noah!” I say, shocked. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” says Noah, without a trace of embarrassment on his face.

  I laugh. “Nice,” I say. “I’m glad you didn’t invent some excuse, like you were just in the neighborhood or something.”

  “Does this happen to you often?”

  I shake my head.

  In truth, I haven’t been with a guy since Noah. I know, I know, that’s pathetic, right?

  But what was I supposed to do?

  I had to finish college. I had to get a job and support James.

  My parents are wonderful, but I wasn’t going to let them raise him. I’m his mother, after all. I had more priorities than just going out and getting laid.

  “Can we go somewhere and talk?” says Noah.

  I look at my watch. I do have an extra hour before I can pick James up from nursery school.

  “Sure,” I say. “Any ideas? There’s a coffee shop right down the corner.”

  “Let’s go for a walk,” says Noah. “It’s more private.”

  “Sure,” I say. “There’s a park up in that direction.”

  “I know,” says Noah. “I’m from here, remember?”

  I laugh. “Of course.”

  For some reason, today I feel at ease around him. I don’t feel anxious like I did the other day. Maybe it’s because I’m coming off a bit of a high from telling off Sunny like that and putting him in his place.

  Noah doesn’t seem nervous. I don’t think he gets nervous, after all. But he does seem preoccupied with something.

  “What’s on your mind?” I say. “You seem… I don’t know. Something.”

  “Something?”

  “You seem different.”

  “Well,” says Noah. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, you know. I’ve been away for a long time, and I know I’ve changed. Some people say they feel the same after going through an extreme experience. I don’t, though. I know I’ve changed. But everyone else seems different too.”

  “Sounds deep,” I say.

  To my surprise, Noah laughs. “I guess I take myself too seriously sometimes,” he says.

  “You are different than I remember you,” I say. “But you’re the same too. I can still see it in you. You’re the same person. You may have had different experiences than you had before, but you’re the same Noah Strong in many ways.”

  “Pretty deep conversation for seeing each other again after so many years, right?” says Noah.

  “I guess so,” I say.

  We walk in silence for a couple minutes, each of us apparently lost deep in our thoughts.

  The sun is shining in the sky and the trees look beautiful. I remember the summer when I slept with Noah, the summer in which James was conceived. It was a hot summer, with the heat rolling in from somewhere all the time. It really felt like that, as if the heat didn’t originate here, but somewhere else, far away. It felt as if the heat had traveled miles to get here, the way Noah has traveled miles to get here today.

  This summer has the same feeling as that other summer years ago. Not all summers are the same. People think it’s just hot weather, more sun, more beach days. But each new season brings a new feeling of its own. And there’s some connection between not just the heat, but something deeper, something more ethereal… I’m losing myself, getting lost in my own spiraling thoughts.

  “The trees are pretty,” I say, breaking my own swirling thoughts that seem to go nowhere.

  “Yeah,” says Noah. “I went a long time without seeing trees like these. I missed them all the time.”

  “I bet,” I say. “So I should admit something, Noah. I’ve been watching you on TV. I went to the bookstore because I knew you’d be there.”

  Noah chuckles.

  He doesn’t say anything for a moment.

  “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he says. “I’ve thought about you constantly, actually. I don’t know why. Well, that’s not true. There’s just something about you… I know what it is, but I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “You’re saying you were thinking about me when you were over there, when you were abroad?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought I was just another… you know, lay, for you. You were pretty popular with the ladies, to put it lightly.”

  Noah grimaces.

  “I’m not proud of that,” he says. “But it is what it is. But no, you were different. You always were. From the moment I saw you.”

  This is getting pretty intense, pretty fast. I didn’t expect a simple walk to turn out like this.

  Honestly, I was thinking that I was just crazy for thinking he’d even really remember me at all. Or think anything of me.

  But now he’s here, confessing his feelings for me, telling me that I’m special, that he was thinking about me over the last few years.

  It’s too good to be true, right?

  He’s James’s father. The thought hits me like a slap in the face. Not only that, but I’ve never told him.

  What am I doing? I should tell him right now. I need to tell him. It’s just not fair, to anyone, to keep this kind of thing from him.

  I can justify my decision however I want to myself. But the fact is that I know what I’m doing quite clearly. Noah’s suddenly expressed what sounds like a serious interest in me, and I don’t want to ruin my chances with him by telling him this huge news that I’ve been hiding from him for so long.

  But I’ve got to tell him. I’ve got to tell him. And not just because it’s the right thing to do. If Tammy tells him first as some kind of retribution, or an attempt to get him back, there go my chances with him.

  Noah

  The conversation got pretty intense pretty fast.

  Soon, we were confessing our feelings for each other.

  “Yeah,” I say. “It’s a little strange… We never spent much time together.”

  “But we’ve both been thinking about each other all these years,” she says, finishing my thought for me.

  I stop walking, and she stops too.

  Her body is close to me. I
can feel her presence hear me. I can hear her breathing. Her chest is rising and falling.

  There’s a hint of expectation in the air. There’s something magnetic pulling us together. I feel the need to have her again, to possess her, to connect our bodies physically. This emotional link between us is about to boil over. And the physical act is the only thing that will satisfy the urge, the craving.

  She’s like a drug to me. I need her and I need more of her.

  “This is crazy, right?” she says, as she looks up at me with her eyes wide and innocent looking.

  She’s changed so much, but she’s still the same woman I made love to that summer night in the yard.

  I pull her against me, my hands on her hips gripping her tightly. I smash my mouth against hers and feel her wet warmth against my lips. She kisses me back and our tongues swirl like a whirlwind.

  I don’t care who sees us or where we are. But no one’s around. Just the trees and the sun and the grass.

  “Yeah,” I growl at her, when the embrace ends, fading away. “This is crazy. But come back to my hotel with me. I need you like I’ve never needed you before.”

  She looks at me. She’s considering it all, and in a more mature way than before. She’s an adult now, with real responsibilities. Sleeping with a man now has more potential repercussions than in her younger years.

  “There’s something you should know,” she says.

  “I already know,” I say.

  There’s a look of complete surprise on her face. “You do?” She sounds scared, terrified even. “You talked to…?”

  “Pat, yeah,” I say. “I didn’t know you knew him? He told me you had a kid now, a son, right?”

  “Oh,” she says, giving me a strange look that I can’t quite decipher. “Yeah, I have a son, James… That’s what I was going to say. I’m supposed to pick him up at daycare.”

  I nod my head in understanding. “Being a single mother must be tough.”

  “Pat told you that too?”

  “Yeah,” I say, not wanting to ask why the dad’s no longer in the picture.

  But what kind of a man abandons a woman, any woman, much less this gorgeous creature in front of me? If I met him, I’d let my fists do the talking for me.

  I want to kiss her again. I want to devour her with my mouth. I want to kiss her whole body and I want to touch again her cloistered dark space between her legs. I want my cock to nestle up against it, pressing ever so slightly as she squeezes her legs closed around me until she finally lets me into her sweet tightness. I want her so much, but I need to wait. I have to wait, and it’s killing me.

  “Hey,” I say. “You’ve got to go pick him up, that’s fine. Let’s get together tonight, though? Come by my hotel at 11pm?”

  “There’s no way to misinterpret that message,” says Hana, laughing.

  “Oh,” I say, making a joke out of it. “Sorry, I just meant you could come by at 11pm to get your book signed. That is what you’re after, isn’t it?”

  “Exactly,” says Hana, flashing me a smile.

  There’s a pause.

  She has to leave, but neither of us want to part. We’ve reconnected after so many years and we’ve discussed a fraction of our feelings for each other. But the rest goes unspoken. It’s something that doesn’t even need to be said. That’s how powerful it is.

  “Hey,” I say. “Why don’t I come with you to pick him up? We can hang out or something. I don’t have anything else going on… I’ll take you two out for pizza or whatever he likes.”

  She doesn’t say anything. It looks like she’s about to say something but stops herself.

  “You sure?” she says. “You don’t have to. I know not every guy wants to hang around with little kids.”

  “No, no,” I say. “I’d love to. I love kids.”

  The truth is that while I do enjoy the company of children, especially the silly things they say, I’ve never felt really at ease with them in the same way I feel with adults. They seem to be working on a whole different level, which makes sense, since they’re kids.

  “Oh,” she says, beaming at me. “That’s great. Sure, I know James would love to meet you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “He loves military stuff and heroes and all that. He’ll just love you. Plus he loves pizza.”

  “Perfect,” I say.

  “I’ll drive,” she says. “And then maybe afterwards, I can drop James off at my parents’ house for the night or something.”

  I follow Hana back to her car, a beat up old Camry, and we start driving to James’s nursery school, which is at the end of a huge tree lined road at the top of a hill.

  “Nice place,” I say.

  There’s the sound of kids shouting out in the playground, laughing and playing. Their voices are nothing but pure joy.

  But I hear something else in it. The shouts bring flashbacks from war, from the missions. My head is suddenly filled with cries of pain, echoes of screams from years ago… comrades fallen on missions, their legs blown completely off from land mines…

  “Are you OK?” says Hana, looking at me with a worried expression.

  “Oh,” I say. “Yeah, sorry… I was just thinking about something else.”

  “You had one of those faraway looks on your face.”

  “It’s nothing,” I say.

  I wait outside while Hana heads inside to pick up James. For some reason that I can’t put together, I feel nervous about meeting him.

  After all, they always say that kids can be perceptive, extremely perceptive. Maybe he’ll know something that I’ve been successful at hiding to everyone else. All the adults see me as the returned warrior hero. They don’t know about my nightmares, my fears, my memories. Can kids see right through that?

  Doubtful, I remind myself. It’s doubtful anyone would realize anything like that. Kids are easy, I remind myself. They’re fun and full of life. It’s ridiculous to be scared of one, or to be nervous about meeting them.

  I’ve been through wars, stared death in the face, and I’m scared of a little kid?

  I take a deep breath. This is more than ridiculous.

  Hana comes back holding a four year old boy by the hand.

  My first thought is that this is one cool kid. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something familiar in his face, in his stance, in the way he walks. I guess it’s just that he reminds me a little of Hana.

  “Hey there, James,” I say, holding out my hand for him to shake.

  I tower over him, but he doesn’t look frightened. He looks at me with a sense of curiosity.

  “You’re my mom’s friend?” he says.

  He shakes my hand. His hand is tiny in mine.

  “Yup,” I say. “Old friends from high school.”

  “Noah offered to take us out to pizza,” says Hana. “Doesn’t that sound fun, James?”

  “Pizza? Yeah. Can we go to Dean’s?”

  “Dean’s pizza?” I say. “Is that still open?”

  Hana nods. “It’s James’s favorite place.”

  “Great,” I say. “Let’s see what old Dean is up to. I haven’t been there in years, but we used to go there all the time after football practice.”

  Dean is a notoriously grumpy man who moves around like he’s shouldering hundreds of pounds of weight. He was constantly complaining about his feet and back, even though he wasn’t that old.

  Hana drives us over there, and James ends up talking a lot about the toys he was playing with at daycare, and some of his friends.

  “Did you have any more problems with Tommy?” says Hana.

  “Tommy?” I say. “What’s going on with Tommy, James?”

  James doesn’t say anything.

  “Tommy’s been giving James a hard time,” says Hana. “He runs his truck over him a lot.”

  I nod my head understandingly. “You know, James,” I say. “Something like that used to happen to me when I was a kid.”

  “Really?” says James, wide eyed. And
I know why he’s surprised. To him, I’m this towering, muscular adult man, a warrior, and I don’t look like I’ve ever had anyone bully me. But that’s not true.

  “Yeah,” I say. “When I was a kid, there was this kid at school… I forget his name now. Maybe it was Bob, but I can’t remember now. It was so long ago. But he used to come up to me and take my apple every day at school. This was in kindergarten. Finally, I’d had enough, and I told him that the next time he took my apple from me, I’d punch him in the stomach.”

  “Really?” says James, going wide eyed.

  “Now,” says Hana. “We don’t want to encourage violence, right, Noah?”

  “Of course not,” I say. “I’m not suggesting you punch him, James. But what I’m saying is that sometimes bullies just need to see that you’re going to stick up for yourself. In my case, telling him off was all it took.”

  James doesn’t say anything, but I can see that he’s thinking it over.

  This is why it’s a shame he doesn’t have a father figure. Moms tend to push non-violence and everything like that, which is great. But kids, especially boys, need some balance between the male and female energies of their parents. They need to know that there’s a time and a place to stand your ground, to stick up for yourself. They also need to not be violent dickheads and go around punching everyone they can.

  “I think you’re right in a way,” says Hana. “I’ve had similar things happens to me at work.”

  “We’re here!” says James from the backseat.

  Hana pulls into the parking lot and we all get out of the car.

  Opposite Dean’s pizza place, which is a run down little building, there’s a park with a long sloping hill.

  “I used to go sledding there as a kid,” I say, pointing out the spot to James.

  He’s fascinated by the idea of me doing things as a kid, apparently, and he can’t get enough of it.

  He’s asking me a ton of questions as we enter the building.

  “Did you know my mom since you were a kid?” he says.

  “Nope,” I say. “I met her after high school, actually. I think I was already 19 or just about to turn 19, I can’t quite remember.”