Dr. Bad Boy

by Ainsley Booth

  I want to believe he’s changed his stance. I want it with everything I am. But it’s not just my life I have to think about anymore.

  I’m as selfish as they come. How can I risk him walking away from an innocent child? From me?

  I lay my hand over my belly and reach for my phone.

  My heart pounds through my chest when Ellie answers. I’m a mess and she’s the only person on the planet I can call. Matthew would no sooner hear the word baby, and he’d be over to Max’s house and kicking his ass.

  “Hi, it’s Violet.” I swear my voice is shaky, but she doesn't seem to notice.

  Her reply is warm and bright. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Do you have some time to talk?”

  “Sure, just give me minute to move somewhere quiet.”

  “Thanks.” I can hear her walking, then the click of a door closing.

  “Okay, spill.”

  I struggle for a minute for the best way to start. Then decide on short and simple. That’s always the best way. “I’m pregnant.”

  There’s only the slightest pause before Ellie responds. “Wow."

  "Yeah."

  "Is Max the…"

  "Yes."

  "Wow."

  "I know."

  She takes a deep breath. "I think I should start again. Is this good news? Are congratulations in order?"

  Tears prick behind my eyelids and I nod. "I'm happy. Surprised, but…yes, this is good news, for me at least."

  "Ah." She doesn't say it in a judgemental way. More like she knows Max, at least as much as anyone does, and she can see how it would be messy. That's why I called her, after all.

  But I still pick my words carefully. His secrets aren't mine to assume anyone else knows. "I think Max is…well, it's complicated. But maybe in a good way? I don't know. That's why I called."

  “Okay…”

  “I found out last week. And after I got over the initial shock, I was happy. And I was going to tell Max right away, but then I found out—well, he told me he never wanted kids. Kind of crazy timing for that to come up."

  "He said it like that?"

  "It was something to do with work. He didn't know yet that I'm pregnant."

  "Oh no."

  "Not that I expected a baby would mean Max and I live happily ever after together."

  She sighs. "No, I get that. But it's natural to be on your mind."

  I exhale roughly. She gets it. "Yeah. I maybe had this fantasy that this child would come into the world and have two loving parents, even if they didn’t live together. I assumed that because Max is a paediatrician, he loved kids and would want some of his own. And then he drops that he doesn't want kids and I freaked out."

  "Aw, of course you did. That's not easy to hear."

  I shake my head. "So, after I spent some time figuring things out, I sent him an email letting him know the situation and assuring him that he’s off the hook.”

  She makes another sympathetic sound. “Ouch. I guess he didn’t take that well at all.”

  Shame floods through me. No. And she knew that, and I should have. “No, he didn’t. Now he’s done a complete one-eighty. And I don't know what to think. I can almost even see how he could change his mind. I mean, we all have an idea of what we’d do in a given situation, but that’s not always how we react when we’re actually faced with it.”

  "Maybe not… So what now?"

  "I don't know." I start to cry.

  "Oh, Violet. Do you want me to come to you? Where are you?"

  "I'm at home. I'm okay." And the last thing I want right now is RCMP officers watching me feel sorry for myself, but I don't say that. When your only girlfriend you can confide in has a security detail, you just make do.

  "You don't sound okay."

  "I'm sad. I wish this had all unfolded differently."

  "But it didn't."

  "No." I twist my finger in the hem of my shirt. Left, then right. I twist it tight enough it starts to hurt, but that just makes me think of Max again. "How do I know he means it?"

  She pauses long enough that I start to cry again. “What if he doesn’t? You already know the worst case scenario. If you don't give him an opportunity, then it's the same result as if he walks away, right? Either way you end up doing the solo parent thing, which it sounds like you're prepared for. But if you give him a chance, then there's a chance. Isn't that what you want?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “What will make you happy, Violet?”

  I let out a long sigh. Max makes me happy. Max as a father…my heart leaps at that idea. Even if I can't stand the idea of him walking away from that down the road, I know my heart made the decision for me even before Max asked me to let him in.

  And I want to give him that same happiness, too.

  It just took Ellie to put it in perspective.

  “You’re right. I appreciate you being here for me.”

  “Anytime. I mean it. And complicated or not, congratulations. You’re going to be a fabulous mother.”

  My heart skips a little as the realisation truly hits me. I’m going to be a mother. “Thanks. I’ll, uh…let you get back to your evening.”

  “Go do something good for yourself and then get a good night’s sleep. You know where I am if you need me.”

  “Will do. Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, mama.”

  I end the call and place my phone on the side table. “Right." I look at my belly and try to imagine those cells turning into a little person. I'm going to be a mother. To that...little bundle of cells. "Well let’s do what auntie Ellie tells us—"

  Shit, this kid's going to need a name

  And like a real one, but right now all I can think is Little Bit

  Because that's all it is at the moment

  She is…He is…

  Oh My God, I'm going to be a mom.

  42

  Max

  Operation Prove-I’m-Ready-For-Baby is well under way. I’ve emptied out the third bedroom, which had been a holding room for cardboard boxes as I slowly unpacked, and had a contractor come in to remove the carpet and install hardwood floor, which I then promptly covered again with a sound-muffling almost wall-to-wall area rug. But it could be rolled up and cleaned underneath. No dust or other allergens for my child.

  I still have the small problem of Violet not knowing I’m turning the room into a nursery or that I want her to move in with me. I need to talk to her, but first I need something that screams nursery without full-on furniture. I’m pretty sure she might want to have a say in what the crib looks like.

  So three days before Christmas, I tell Blair I’m taking the morning off work and I drag Tate to Costco. He meets me in the parking lot.

  “I have a game tonight,” he grumbles, but he also grabs a cart and starts listing off the shit he needs to grab, so he’s obviously not that annoyed.

  “You have games a lot of nights. Get over it. I need some moral support.”

  “For shopping?”

  “For…” I take a deep breath. “Look, this is a secret, okay?” I can’t tell Lachlan or Gavin yet, but something tells me Tate won’t blink an eye at my predicament. He’s enough of a player that I’m sure he’s had a pregnancy scare or two in his past.

  Not that I’m scared. I’m not. I’m…well, I’m petrified but in a good way. It’s complicated. I’m not sure he’ll get that, though.

  “To my grave, man. What’s up?”

  “Violet’s pregnant.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yours?”

  “I will kick your ass right here, right now.”

  He dances back and holds up his hands, grinning. “In that case, congratulations.”

  The force of that word hits me like a punch in the chest, and I rub that spot. Yeah. Wow. “Thanks.” I mean that more than I can say. “I’m wrapping my head around it.”

  “So we’re hunting for baby stuff?” he asks as we head inside. “What are we lookin
g for, exactly?”

  I frown. I’m not sure. But Costco seems like a place where fathers shop. Fathers and hockey players, because Tate’s got a membership and the girl at the door seemed to know him. “I’ll know it when I see it.”

  I consider a baby monitor, and some impossibly small sleepers covered in parading zoo animals, and put them in the cart, but nothing I see is quite enough of a statement. Nothing, that is, until we get to the toy aisle, and right in the middle of it is the world’s largest teddy bear.

  This thing is fucking insane.

  It’s also perfect.

  “That,” I say, shaking my finger at the easily ten-foot-tall bear.

  “No,” says Tate.

  “Yes,” I repeat, nodding my head.

  “How the fuck are we going to get that back to your place?”

  It turns out that a ten-foot-tall teddy bear fits perfectly in the bed of Tate’s pick-up truck. Sure, the head is completely blocking his rear-view window, and the feet are hanging out the end like a drunk frat boy on a porch at the end of an epic party, but we’ve got it in and strapped down, and now I’m following him back to my place.

  It takes both of us to carry him over the drifts of snow and in through the front door.

  After Tate leaves, shaking his head at my insanity, I grab a beer and head upstairs to the no-longer-empty nursery.

  Bob the Bear is lolling in the corner. The entire corner.

  “So,” I say to the giant-assed teddy bear. “How about we ask a girl to move in with us, hmm?”

  43

  Violet

  Before I leave for work the next morning, I confirm my storm is still on, then call my parents. They say all the right things about not risking my safety by travelling in bad weather, but the subtext screams guilt-trip. And I don’t care. I’m going to see Max tonight and that’s the only thing I’m willing to focus on.

  My whole morning is tied up with a deposition that runs long and by the time we break for lunch, it’s after one and I’m starving. I slip into my office and grab my coat and purse before heading out to grab something to bring back and eat at my desk.

  As I wait my turn in line at my favourite deli, I pull out my phone to check messages. There’s just one.

  M: Can you come for dinner at 6:30?

  Damn. I frown at my phone. I’ve got a late appointment with a client and I want to go home and change before I head over. I quickly type in my response as the line moves ahead a little.

  V: I’m slammed at work. Can we push to 7:30?

  M: Absolutely. I can be flexible.

  V: See you then.

  M: Can’t wait.

  I stare at his latest message for a moment. Can’t wait. I can’t either, and I’m tempted to respond with that, but it’s my turn to order. Besides, I think I need to hold back a little. See what this evening brings.

  It’s well after six by the time my late client shuffles out the door, but I’d taken moments here and there throughout the afternoon to get organised, so I’m ready to leave only a couple minutes later.

  Matthew is just leaving his apartment as I get to my door. “Violet! I haven’t seen you in ages. Are you heading home for Christmas?"

  I shake my head. "Storm's coming in. I don't want to risk being stranded there." It's not untrue, after all.

  "Oh. Well, can’t talk now, I’m late for a date with Gareth, but you’re welcome to join us at my place for Misfits Christmas.”

  I almost decline outright, then realise I may actually be a misfit for Christmas. “I don’t know for sure yet. When do you need to know by?”

  “Saturday will do, but really, you could show up unannounced and it will be fine—there will be more than enough to go around. Seriously, it’s Christmas dinner, when are there not more leftovers than the fridge can accommodate?”

  “Thanks. I’ll let you know for sure by Saturday." I give him a quick hug and let myself into my apartment.

  I leave a trail of clothes from the front door all the way to my room in my haste to get to Max’s on time. I grab a quick shower, but skip washing my hair. I don’t have time to blow it completely dry and it’s too cold to go out with it wet.

  I spent the whole drive home contemplating what to wear. My first instinct was to go for sexy, because I’ve missed him and I want him. But my desire is eclipsed by uncertainty. We’re still on very rocky ground and while I’m cautiously optimistic about what tonight will bring, I need to keep something of myself back.

  I settle on a comfy pair of jeans and a cream cashmere Henley shirt over one of the Agent Provocateur bra and panties sets we bought in Montreal. Once I’m dressed, I quickly scrape my hair into a French braid, then throw on my winter coat and boots. I eye the bag containing Max’s gifts on my way out and decide to leave them for now.

  As I get closer to Max’s house, my stomach starts to twist and I feel a little shaky. I shouldn’t feel nervous. He’s expecting me. But feelings are never overruled by logic, so I take deep breaths and concentrate on the road.

  I realise where my nerves are probably coming from once I arrive. I don’t know what’s expected. After a moment of indecision, I park in front of the garage.

  Max opens the door before I get up the walk. He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “Problem with the remote?”

  “No. Just wasn’t sure where I should park.”

  “Always inside the garage, Violet. This is one house where you never have to ring the doorbell.”

  He takes my hand, pulling me inside and my face heats with the memory of the last time we did this. I half expect to feel his hand in my hair and my body pressed against the cold wood of the door. Instead, he drags me through the living room and into the kitchen before I even have a chance to take off my boots and coat.

  There is a sea of pots and pans and dirty dishes.

  “You cooked?” I ask, shrugging out of my coat. I lay it on the back of a chair and toe off my boots.

  “For you.” He gestures to a chair at the table, pulled out and facing him. "Have a seat."

  I’m stunned. I had no idea his culinary skills extended past breakfast. Then it occurs to me that maybe they don’t. But I hope they do, because while I could probably choke down almost anything, I’m just not a good liar.

  “Thank you.”

  He pulls a bottle of sparkling apple juice from the fridge and pours two wine glasses full before handing one to me.

  “What time is your train on Saturday?”

  I couldn’t ask for a smoother opening. “I’m not going.”

  He looks up sharply and raises that damnable eyebrow again. “Why not?”

  My heart beats fast at the possibility of rejection. I take a sip from my glass and carefully set it down on the table. “If you were to ask my parents, they’d tell you it’s because of the storm that’s supposed to arrive tomorrow night. But that’s only a small part of the reason.” Pausing, I take another sip of my drink and keep my gaze lowered. I can’t look at him and still get this out.

  “The big reason is because I want to spend Christmas with you.” The hammering in my chest speeds up and my vision starts to darken at the edges. Closing my eyes, I take a long, slow breath. When I open them again, Max is crouching in front of me, his face inches from mine.

  He takes my hand. “Are you okay?” he asks. His brow is furrowed and he looks worried.

  I can’t trust my voice right now, so I nod, focusing on my knees. He’s not given me any response, and I’m feeling a little foolish.

  He tucks a finger under my chin and tips my face up until I meet his gaze. “I’d love to spend Christmas with you, Violet.”

  Taking my hand, he stands and tugs me up from the chair. “Come with me, I’ve got something to show you.”

  We walk upstairs toward the empty bedroom at the end of the hall that's full of boxes. Except when we get to the door, the boxes are gone, the room is empty except for the world’s biggest teddy bear parked in the corner.

  I have no idea where thi
s is going or how to respond, so I just smile and wait.

  “I didn’t want to decorate and furnish it without you, and when I saw the bear, I knew he was perfect.”

  “He’s…huge.” What is going on? A giant stuffed animal is grand gesture-esque, but we’re still on the do we spend holidays together level.

  “I named him Bob, but that’s negotiable.”

  I laugh despite my confused nerves. “Bob?”

  “Bob the Bear.”

  “That’s cute.” My voice shakes a little. I think I’m crashing from the stress of not knowing earlier where we stood, because the bear is cute and it’s a sweet thing for Max to do.

  He looks at me earnestly. “I want you and the baby to be comfortable here.”

  Ah. Of course. My stomach does a disappointed flop, even though I know better, but expectations are a funny thing—deep down I have to admit I’d been hoping for a bit more commitment than just clearing space so baby and I can sleep over. I quickly pack away my disappointment. I’ve got Christmas and sleepovers, and that’s more than I had an hour ago. "Okay."

  He takes my hand. "Just like that?"

  I shrug. "Sure."

  "Is it too fast to ask you to stay here?"

  "I stay here on weekends already," I point out.

  He nods. "Right."

  "So…dinner?" I smile brightly.

  He tugs me closer. "In a minute." His mouth brushes over mine, softly at first, then a bit more insistent. "I'm going to show you," he whispers. "I’m going to figure out how to be the guy you need."

  44

  Max

  For the first time in thirty-five years, I wake up on Christmas morning filled with what feels suspiciously like good cheer. Violet’s still asleep next to me, her body warm and soft. I should get out of bed and make her breakfast, but removing myself is proving difficult.

  This is the third morning in a row I’ve woken up with my cock pressed against her ass. The third morning in a row I’m going to roll away from that delicious temptation and go do something domestic because who-the-fuck knows where things stand with us sexually. Emotionally, we’re in a good place, I think. I hope. But sexually…she’s the mother of my child. I don’t think she wants me to degrade her and spank her ass.