The Pickup (Imperfect Love Book 1)

by Nikki Ash

  “Is that Nick?” my dad asks when I stop on the one of him cutting the umbilical cord.

  “Yeah, he snuck in and declared himself possibly the dad, and the doctor asked if he wanted to cut the umbilical cord.” I swipe to another photo.

  “I can still remember when I got to do that with you.” My dad smiles at me. “One of the greatest moments of my life.”

  “Yeah, well, I doubt Nick felt the same way.” Fresh tears surface, and I will them away. Damn hormones.

  “Okay, here he is.” The nurse comes in, pushing my baby in a rolling bassinet. “His Apgar scores were perfect.” She hands me a piece of paper that shows the tests which were given, along with the scores. “His lungs are fully developed. It says in your birthing plan that you’re planning to bottle-feed. Here are a couple different kinds.” She pulls the bottles out. “This one is good, but if he has reflux or a sensitive belly, try this one.” She points to the different formulas.

  “Thank you.” She picks him up and brings him to me. I shake the bottle gently like I read in the baby books and bring the nipple to his mouth. He starts sucking and drinking immediately. Giselle comes over and snaps another picture. A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door and the nurse opens it. Nick walks in and glances around the room.

  “Now’s not the time,” my dad says.

  “Dad, it’s fine.” I lean over and give my baby boy a soft kiss on his forehead before I pick him up to burp him. “Can you guys give us a few minutes, please?” It’s best to get this over with. Reluctantly, everyone leaves.

  “Sorry for barging in earlier. I was waiting outside your door, but when I heard you scream, I thought something was wrong.”

  “It’s called giving birth,” I say dryly. “Why are you even here?”

  “I’m not really sure.”

  “Look, if you don’t want to be a dad, you don’t have to be.”

  “And what is it you want?” He stands at the end of my bed, his arms crossed over his chest. His question comes out cold and distant. He’s nothing like the man I spent the night with all those months ago. Or maybe I just convinced myself it was more than what it really was.

  “It doesn’t matter to me…” I start to say, but he shakes his head.

  “No, I mean what do you want in order for me to sign over my rights? How much? You’re right, I don’t want to be a dad.” My heart breaks when he says this. My mind going back to my fantasy—the one where I have a baby with a man who loves me. We would get married, buy a house with a backyard like the one I grew up in, and we would start a family together. I didn’t realize it until right now, but when I watched him step forward and cut that umbilical cord, something in me felt a sense of hope that maybe he wanted this too.

  My little man burps. When I lower him from my shoulder to take a good look at him, his eyes are already fluttering shut. I swaddle him in his blanket, but instead of laying him in the bassinet, I hold him, hoping that having him in my arms will help heal my broken heart.

  Just as I’m about to respond, a woman comes barreling through the door. “Ugh! Do you know how hard it was to get through the hospital without being photographed?”

  Having no clue who this woman is or why she’s in my room, I say, “Excuse me?”

  “Celeste, what are you doing here?” Cole walks over to her. Okay… I guess he knows her.

  “It’s all over social media! Do you not understand how bad this looks? And I’m your fiancée! A phone call to let me know would’ve been nice.” Taking a closer look at the woman, I spot a gigantic engagement ring on her left hand, the hand that’s waving around in frustration as she drones on about being blindsided. She’s skinny and tall and lacks any major curves, yet she’s stunningly beautiful. Her hair is long and black and smooth. She’s wearing what I recognize as a Valentino dress from his couture winter line, and her makeup appears to be professionally done. I can’t put my finger on it, but I recognize her from somewhere…

  “I was forced to leave the shoot, and now it will need to be rescheduled for another night.” Oh, yeah! She’s a model. I’ve seen her on billboards. And…wait a second…holy shit! She’s Celeste Leblanc. I only purchase my makeup from her line. It’s the best. Jesus, Olivia…now is not the time to fangirl over her and her amazing makeup line. She’s your baby-daddy’s fiancée for God’s sake.

  “I didn’t ask you to come here,” Cole points out. “And I was going to call you, but everything happened so fast.”

  “Ahem.” I clear my throat, and both of them whip around to acknowledge I’m in the room. “If you guys wouldn’t mind, maybe you could discuss this…oh, I don’t know”—I lift my shoulders in a shrug—“out of my room.” I hold my sleeping baby up slightly. “I just gave birth, and I’m a bit tired.” I’m aware my words come out bitchy, but we’ll blame it on the new mom hormones. Okay, no, screw that. I’ll take responsibility. I just don’t want to hear them.

  “Look, Celeste. I didn’t know she was pregnant. I just found out. And I didn’t know the press and paparazzi figured it out until I got here.” He looks at me. “I’m going to call my attorney and find out about having a paternity test done.”

  I would rather not do this with an audience, but I guess I have no choice.

  “You said you didn’t want to be his dad,” I point out.

  Celeste’s eyes swing from him to me, and she gives me an incredulous look. “Wait a second, you’re not pushing for Nick to be the father? Then what’s your angle?”

  Refusing to discuss this with a woman I don’t know—and also mentally making a note to throw away all of my makeup—I say to Cole—or shit, I guess it’s Nick, “I told you, you’re the father. If you don’t want to be the dad, you don’t have to be.” I try my best to keep my crazy emotions from leaking out. “I don’t know what happened that night, but I didn’t get pregnant on purpose. I’m not going to force you to want our son.” I hear my voice crack on the last word, but I will myself not to cry. It’s not like I’m in love with the man—I don’t even know him. I just always thought I would raise my children in a two-parent loving home like my parents gave me. I never thought at twenty-five I would be a single mother.

  With his eyes trained on my baby in my arms, he says, “I still want to know.”

  Celeste steps closer to him and says, “If you take that test and it proves you’re the dad, there’s no going back. You’re the one who said you don’t want to be a dad. The last thing that baby needs is a father who doesn’t want him.”

  He nods once and then says, “If I’m the father, I’ll pay you whatever it is you want.”

  “Will you stop saying that?” My voice comes out harsh, and my baby jumps in his sleep. “I don’t want or need your money, and if you don’t want to be this baby’s father then I don’t want you to be. If you want a paternity test, fine. I know he’s yours. Now both of you…get out.”

  Nick opens his mouth to argue but closes it. Both of them walk out and close the door behind them.

  A few minutes later, my dad, Corrine, Shelby, and Giselle all come back into the room. Nobody asks what happened. Instead, we focus our energy on the beautiful, healthy baby.

  “Do we have a name?” Giselle asks.

  “Yes, we do. Reed Cameron Harper.” I look to my dad, and he gives me a warm smile.

  “Oh, sweetie!” Corrine coos. “That’s perfect. Both of your parents’ middle names.” Tears well in her eyes as my dad cuts across the room to my bedside.

  “If your mom were here, she would be loving on her grandson. She’d be so proud of the woman you’ve become.”

  “What is there to be proud of? Getting knocked up from a one-night stand?” I joke, but even I can hear the embarrassing truth in my words.

  “No, for taking responsibility. You’re going to be an amazing mom just like yours was.”

  Eight

  Nick

  It’s been a week since I walked out of the hospital with Celeste and argued with her for hours over the Olivia and ba
by situation.

  “I can’t believe this is happening,” she says. “Everything was going perfectly fine. And now it’s all about to be destroyed because of your one-night stand. I shouldn’t be surprised.” She throws her arms up in exasperation. “You’re a man, which means keeping your dick in your pants is impossible.”

  “This happened before we got together!” I shout in frustration. She’s acting like I asked for this to happen. “You knew I was sleeping around. It’s part of the reason I agreed to make good on our pact.”

  After I was told I needed to settle down, figuring I had nothing to lose, I called up Celeste and agreed to go through with our pact. At least with her, I knew what I was getting myself into. A business arrangement. We dated for a couple months and then announced our engagement. Celeste let the lease on her apartment go and moved in with me once I purchased a place in Lower Manhattan near the stadium—and directly above Killian.

  “I know.” She nods. “I just…I thought being with you would be safe,” she whispers.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, “But it’s not as if I cheated on you.” Despite the fact that Celeste and I have never once had sex, I’ve been one hundred percent faithful to her. It’s not that we didn’t try. We did. But the foreplay was robotic, and neither of us could get into it. After getting her off, I ended up finishing in the shower using my hand. We’ve never spoken about it or tried to have sex again.

  “I know that,” she says, her voice rough with emotion. “That’s not what I meant.” She swallows thickly.

  “Celeste, what’s going on?” I’ve never seen her like this. Celeste doesn’t do emotion. She doesn’t get her feelings hurt. “Talk to me.”

  She opens her mouth to speak then closes it. She stands taller, straightening her back and squaring her shoulders. “Nothing is going on,” she says. “I just meant that I thought you would be safe for my reputation. I guess I was wrong.”

  “I can’t change what happened,” I tell her, “but this doesn’t have to change anything between us.”

  “Don’t you get it?” She shakes her head. “This changes everything.” She sighs in defeat and sits down on the couch. I walk over and sit next to her. “I didn’t sign up for this, Nick.”

  I know from the outside it may seem like Celeste is being a bitch, but she’s right. She didn’t sign up for this. In the beginning of our relationship, we hammered out all the details. Celeste wanted to make sure we were both on the same page. She told me she didn’t want to have kids and I agreed. I feel bad that my past is complicating what we have. Celeste doesn’t deserve any of this.

  The truth is, from the beginning, being with Celeste has been easy. Because of our high-demanding careers, we’re rarely ever home, both busy living our lives. There’s no expectations. No emotions involved. She’s more like a roommate than my fiancée.

  We both sit in silence for a few minutes, and then she asks, “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I don’t know what the right answer is.”

  “You said you didn’t want to be a dad,” she says, “You told me you felt like you were never good enough in your parents’ eyes. And you said that Fiona not getting pregnant was for the best.”

  “I know.” She’s right. I did say all that. But at the time I said all that I didn’t think there was a chance of me actually becoming a dad. Now, there’s a baby who I might share DNA with.

  “And what about Olivia?” she asks.

  “What about her?”

  “You said it yourself the morning after you two hooked up that you thought there could be something more between you guys. Are you telling me you honestly haven’t thought about how she plays into this picture?”

  I let out a low groan, regretting my decision to confide in Celeste the morning after. “She walked away that morning, leaving me with nothing more than a note. Her only role in my life would be as my son’s mother.” As I say those words, my heart strings feel like they’re being tugged. Watching her deliver the baby was probably the single most amazing thing I’ve ever witnessed. She was so strong through it all. And then when she held him in her arms…the love that shown through in her eyes… In all my years growing up, I don’t think I ever saw my own mother look at me the way Olivia looked at her son. Had she not left without giving me her number, who knows how things would be different right now. But it doesn’t matter because she did leave, and now I’m engaged to Celeste. It’s pointless to focus on the what-ifs.

  “She probably wants to trap you.”

  “Did you not see her in the hospital? She can barely stand to be in the same room as me.”

  “Then she’s doing it for the money,” Celeste states.

  “I don’t think so,” I say honestly. “She said she doesn’t want my money.”

  “There you go being all naïve once again.”

  “I’m not being naïve,” I argue.

  Celeste turns her body slightly in my direction and our eyes lock, neither of us saying a word as she tries to determine if there are any hidden emotions behind my features. She’s trying to figure out what I’m thinking but not saying. Finally, she sighs and says, “It’s like we’re teenagers all over again. How many times are you going to let a woman manipulate your emotions?” She gives me a pointed look. “You said it yourself. She’s the same woman who left you the morning after with nothing more than a note. Who knows what her angle is now that she knows you’re a professional athlete.”

  I hear everything she’s saying, and had she mentioned all this before I watched Olivia give birth I probably would’ve agreed, but the problem is I saw the little boy who might be my son. Hell, I even cut his damn umbilical cord. I saw the way Olivia’s love for her son shone through. And while I won’t admit this to Celeste, it made my heart feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Does that scare the shit out of me? Hell yes, it does. But it also feels damn good to feel something, anything, again.

  “I really don’t think she has an angle.”

  Without her eyes leaving mine, she says, “You want her.” Her tone as she says those three words contain zero emotion, as if she’s simply stating a fact. A fact I’m not ready to deal with yet. Because those three words, if they are true, will change everything, just like Celeste said.

  “This isn’t about her,” I say, deflecting. “This is about a baby who might be my son.”

  “Yeah, okay, Nick. We both know you think with your heart. It won’t be long until you’ve ditched me to play house with your baby mamma.”

  “Celeste…” I begin to say, but she cuts me off.

  “Don’t ‘Celeste’ me. Just think about this before you make any rash decisions. You agreed to give this relationship a chance, not only because of your reputation but because you were tired of getting your heart stomped on. Since we’ve been together, how many times has your heart been broken? Zero.” I don’t point out that my heart can’t be broken if it isn’t on the line.

  “You want to go play Daddy to this baby, fine.” She lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not going to stop you. I would never try to stop a father from taking responsibility. But don’t be so naïve to think this woman is your one true love. You aren’t going to find out you’re the dad and live happily-ever-after, Nick.”

  I can hear the fear in her voice. She won’t ever admit it, but one of Celeste’s biggest fears is not being put first. Her dad never came back for her mom or her, and in her eyes, he chose someone else over them. And then for years, her mom put her love for her dad above her own daughter. Beatrice chose to stay in that trailer park and work at that diner over creating a good life for Celeste. Now she’s afraid I’m going to choose my son and his mother over her, leaving her once again on her own. She comes across so tough on a day-to-day basis that sometimes I forget how insecure Celeste really is.

  “All I want to do is find out if that little boy is my son.”

  “And what if he is, Nick? What then? What will that mean for us?”

&nb
sp; “I’m not breaking off our engagement,” I tell her.

  “Yet.” She huffs and snatches her purse off the table. I know I should stop her and convince her she’s wrong, make her feel secure about us, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to do it, to say the words she needs to hear.

  “I need to get going,” she says. I watch her walk to the door, but then she stops and turns around. “You might not see where this is all going, but I do. And as your best friend I’m going to warn you just like I did when we were younger. She’s going to break your heart.” I open my mouth to argue, but she doesn’t give me a chance. “And when she does, this time I will say I told you so.” And without waiting for me to respond, she swings the door open and then slams it shut behind her.

  I hate to admit it, but on some level Celeste is right. Olivia walked away that day. She didn’t want a future with me. If she did, she would’ve stuck around or left me her number. She did neither. I was nothing more than a one-night stand to her that left her knocked up.

  The next morning I called my attorney, and he put a petition in to the courts to establish paternity. I went to the hospital, got swabbed, and left. Now, I’m just waiting to find out the results.

  Yesterday, my mom called to find out when she would see me for Christmas—which really meant she wanted to find out my side of what’s going on. Luckily, we had an away game, so I was able to put off her inquisition temporarily. But at some point I’m going to have to deal with her. There’s no way she’s going back to North Carolina until she gets some answers. My dad has already mentioned them finding a short-term lease here in New York. I’d like to think it’s so they can be near me for moral support, but I know better. I’ve been spending every day at practice or in the gym to keep busy. I need to stay focused. We’re too damn close to becoming champions for my drama to fuck it all up now.

  The negative tension between Coach and me has been awkward to say the least, and I was worried it would rub off on the rest of the team, but we made it through our game—winning 24-21. We already clinched a spot in the playoffs, but this game determined if we would have home-field advantage. It was a close game, and it had the commentators talking, questioning if I’m regressing with the new weight and stress on my shoulders. Celeste was right in that regard. The tabloids and gossip rags are all talking, and none of it is projecting me in a positive light.