Foolish Expectations

by Alison Bliss

  But she’s married? Fuck.

  What the hell was he supposed to do about that? And where the hell was her husband, anyway? If Bailey was thinking about moving in with her father, then that meant her spouse wasn’t in the picture—at least not fully. Was he alive? Was he out of town?

  So many questions ran through his mind, but he couldn’t ask her a single one. The bomb she’d dropped on Nash had stunned him into silence, and before the shock wore off enough for him to speak, Bailey had run into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Clearly, she wanted to be alone, which was fine by him, since he needed time to think as well.

  Either way, he was involved now, which seemed to be the very thing she didn’t want. Well, tough shit. The idea of her taking off with his baby to parts unknown was ludicrous, especially when he had the means to take care of both of them. Like it or not—husband or not—Nash wasn’t going anywhere. And although she didn’t know it yet, neither was she. And he’d make damn sure of it.

  After a half hour passed, he tapped on the bedroom door and pushed it open. Bailey lay on the bed and tilted her head up until her glossy eyes met his. “Nash? W-what are you doing back here?” She sniffled.

  “I never left. Are you all right?”

  She tensed and her lips flattened into a thin, grim line. “I-I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. But it’s okay. We don’t have to figure anything out tonight. I can plainly see the thought alone stresses you out, which is the last thing you need right now. I don’t want to do anything to put our child in danger.”

  Our child. He liked the sound of that.

  Her body relaxed a little. “I just want to change and go to bed.” She got up and walked over to her dresser and pulled out some clothes, then headed into the bathroom.

  He pulled the comforter back and arranged the pillows while waiting for her to come back out. When she did, he gave her a stern look.

  “What?” she asked casually, as if she wasn’t standing there in a tiny pair of shorts and a tight tank top with no bra that showed her hard nipples.

  He nodded to her attire. “Could’ve warned me.”

  “I normally sleep in much less, but I couldn’t very well walk out here half-naked, now could I?”

  He groaned under his breath and resisted the urge to shift the instant swelling in his groin area. God, he wanted to touch her, but he couldn’t… Damn woman’s trying to kill me.

  Despite her insistence that she could do it herself, Nash helped her into the bed and quickly covered her with the sheet. It was either that or risk doing something that was surely against doctor’s orders. But he wasn’t planning on leaving her all by herself, so he sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting comfortable. I don’t plan on sleeping with these on my feet.” He pulled at his plaid shirt, unsnapping all the buttons simultaneously before sliding it off his shoulders and down his arms.

  Her eyes widened as she sat up. “You can’t stay here!”

  “Why? Is your husband coming home?” He smiled when she didn’t answer him. “I didn’t think so.” Hoped was more like it.

  “It’s just that…well, I…” She drew in a deep breath, willing herself to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Like I said, we don’t have to talk about it right now. I’d like an explanation, but it can wait until you’re feeling better. Get some rest.”

  She let out a sigh, which sounded very much like relief, and did as he asked. He walked around to the other side of the bed, slid in next to her, then pulled the covers over both of them.

  “What are you doing now?” she asked, throwing the covers off once again.

  “Going to sleep.”

  “Not here, you’re not.”

  “Your couch is two feet shorter than I am. So, yes, here. Besides, this is not the first time we’ve been in a bed together.” And if he had it his way, it wouldn’t be the last.

  “Just had to bring that up, didn’t you?” She didn’t miss the grin he wore. “Fine. But stay on your own side.” Bailey flipped over, facing away from him as he hiked the blanket up higher on her thigh.

  He chuckled at the irritation in her voice and turned off the lamp next to the bed, plunging them into darkness. “No problem.”

  Within minutes, her breathing evened out and she fell asleep. Guess fatigue won out over frazzled nerves and rushing hormones. Of course, that didn’t solve the problem he was having with his rushing hormones. At least until she started snoring. It was the single most unsexy sound he’d ever heard.

  As she breathed in, a winch tightened in her nasal passages, then the air vibrated past her lips with a gurgling flair. It was quite remarkable such a tiny woman could make such a big noise. He smiled, though. The mother of his unborn child was the bedtime version of Darth Vader.

  And, one way or another, she was going to be his wife.

  Chapter Nine

  Early the next morning, Bailey awoke in the cold sweat of a full-blown panic attack. Fear consumed her, and she mentally gasped as her eyes shot open. In her dream, not only had her body threatened miscarriage, but she’d lost the baby and the nurse was holding her down while the doctor performed a D&C procedure.

  She was on her back, staring at the ceiling of her dimly lit bedroom. Nash’s protective hand lay gently over her stomach, covering the baby growing inside her womb. His baby. She swallowed hard, but didn’t move.

  From an early age, all she’d ever wanted was to be with a kind, decent man while carrying his child. Only she’d pictured a married couple deeply in love waiting patiently for the birth of their child. Not a man and a woman who barely knew each other, with their lives suddenly threaded together by an unplanned pregnancy.

  Nash’s hand twitched on her stomach, then slid under the edge of her shirt. His warm fingers whispered across her skin and settled just above the waistband of her low-cut shorts, as if he was subconsciously trying to get closer with a more intimate touch.

  She mentally sighed at the mess she’d gotten herself into.

  Why couldn’t he just walk away and leave her to deal with this on her own? Hell, he hadn’t even pushed her to tell him the truth about her husband because he hadn’t wanted to stress her out. As if he were already putting her and the baby’s needs above his own. Damn. Why did Nash have to be so…kind and decent?

  Sure, he probably thought asking her to marry him was the noble thing to do. But Nash didn’t love her any more than she loved him. And, like it or not, he obviously thought of her and the baby as a package deal, a duet of sorts, which was something he’d made immediately clear with his crazy marriage proposal.

  She shouldn’t even be considering it, and the fact that she was terrified the hell out of her. Because the last thing she wanted was for him to feel trapped and end up resenting her for it. And that’s exactly what would happen if she married him.

  He was the kind of guy any woman could easily fall for, but that was part of the problem. She didn’t want to fall for him. Not when it would only end in heartbreak later. Hers, not his. So why set herself up for it? After all, she’d already learned the hard way that men fell into bed, not in love.

  Why did things have to happen this way? If only she had recognized the symptoms earlier in the week, then she could’ve kept him from finding out about the baby and she could’ve left free and clear. No one would’ve ever had to know who the father of her baby was. It’s not like anyone else would have asked about… Damn.

  The baby.

  The child would eventually want to know. Even if she could get Nash to surrender his rights—which would happen when hell started passing out deep freezers—eventually their child would grow up and ask the question, “Where’s my daddy?” Then what would she do?

  The thought made her queasy and she groaned. She eased out of the bed and went into the bathroom, hovering over the toilet while feeling weak and faint. She salivated and gagged constantly, but nothing came
up. After brushing her teeth, she opened the bathroom door to find Nash sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her with a worried look on his face.

  He measured her with his eyes. “You okay?”

  “Just a little nauseated.”

  “Any cramping?”

  “No. I think I just overdid it at work yesterday morning. Getting off my feet helped a lot.”

  He stood and stretched his arms, then ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat.”

  “I always eat breakfast at work, so you probably won’t find much in the kitchen beyond some stale corn flakes and soured milk. Oh…God.” She groaned and clutched her mouth, suddenly feeling sick again.

  As she sat shakily on the bed, he grabbed a nearby trashcan and placed it beside her. “Well, you have to eat something. I’m going to call my office and let my secretary know that I’m not coming in today, and then I’ll run to the nearest grocery store. I’ll fill your prescription for the prenatal vitamins while I’m out, but I want you to stay in bed until I get back.”

  She uncovered her mouth. “Wait. What am I supposed to do all day?”

  “Avoid stress.” Nash turned on the TV across the room and tossed her the remote. “Here, catch up on your soap operas.”

  “I don’t watch soap operas.”

  “You do now.” He chuckled and started toward the bedroom door, but stopped before going through it. “If you can think of anything you might need for me to pick up before I leave, just holler. I’m leaving in ten minutes.” Then he stepped out, shutting the door behind him.

  She glared at the door. “I can feel my stress reducing already,” she called out, not sure if he’d even heard her.

  ***

  Two days of constant bed rest was enough to make anyone grouchy, especially Bailey. Oh, sure, she had been allowed to get up—once every hour for her bathroom break, where she lingered over the toilet willing herself to puke. Nothing ever came out, though.

  If she could only throw up just once while in the bathroom, she’d be happy. She hated the idea of upchucking in front of him and had refused to use the trashcan he gave her. There was nothing attractive about a girl gagging and dry-heaving. Ever.

  It was irritating enough that every time she came out of the bathroom, Nash was waiting outside the door, ready to steer her back to bed. Like she was in maximum security prison and he was her personal guard, assigned to torment and annoy her with his constant orders. She tolerated it because his concern for the baby outweighed any amount of bedridden testiness she felt…even if she did feel like shanking him on occasion.

  She’d used her cell phone only once to let her boss know she was on doctor-ordered bed rest, but Nash made her promise to turn it off afterward. He claimed it would stress her out more, but he was wrong. The only thing stressing her right now was him pretending to be her warden. But time had been served by this prisoner, and today she was a free woman. Halleluah!

  No more reruns of Roseanne. No more melodramatic soap operas. And no more lying in that stupid-ass bed that she’d begun to loathe with a passion. She took her prenatal vitamin, cupping water under the bathroom faucet to wash it down with. Then she hurried to get dressed, knowing the world hadn’t paused for two days, even if she had. She had something important to do and it couldn’t be put off a second longer.

  As she pulled on her second shoe, Nash opened the bedroom door wearing a dorky Garfield apron she’d received as a gag gift from one of her coworkers. He carried in a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice. He frowned as he watched her tie her shoelace. “Going somewhere?”

  “I have some things to take care of.”

  He sat down next to her on the bed and offered her the plate. When she shook her head and waved him off, he pushed it toward her again. “Eat something. You haven’t had anything yet.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Well, the baby is,” he said firmly. “Besides, we still need to talk.”

  Crap. She took the plate and started eating, hoping that with her mouth full, he wouldn’t expect her to say much. She knew this was coming and was dreading every minute of it.

  “We need to make some changes,” he said, then paused to judge her reaction. She smiled timidly around the big bite of pancake she had just stuffed into her mouth, so he continued. “I want you to get the care you need and deserve. I called my medical insurance company this morning and found out you’ll be fully covered. We won’t have to pay for anything.”

  She swallowed. “Your insurance will cover me as the mother of your unborn child? That’s odd. I didn’t know they did that sort of—”

  “As my wife,” he corrected.

  She closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh. “Nash, don’t.”

  “Why not? You and the baby need medical coverage, and I want a relationship with my child. It’s the perfect solution. I have a big house in a nice area for raising a child. I’m a responsible, honest man with a good paying job and can provide for both of you. You won’t have to work during the pregnancy…or even afterward, if you don’t want to. You can be a stay-at-home mom, if that’s what you choose. Everything between us will be fifty-fifty.”

  “God, you just don’t get it. There’s nothing between us, Nash.”

  “The baby disagrees.”

  “Stop doing that! Quit speaking for our child and guilt-tripping me into doing things your way. It isn’t fair to me. You don’t know what this baby wants or needs any more than I do.”

  “I know he needs both of his parents.”

  “He? What do you mean he? Maybe it’s a she. Now you’re acting like you know the sex of the baby? Jesus. For someone who isn’t carrying the kid, you sure know an awful lot about him.” Damn it, now he has me doing it. “Or her,” she quickly added.

  He grinned lightly. “It could work, you know.”

  It would be so easy to declare Nash her hero and ride off into the sunset with him. But that wasn’t reality, and she knew it. Her life was a hot mess right now. The last thing she needed was to complicate it further and have even more regrets when there were alternative choices to consider. She had things to do. Like call her dad, the only man she had ever truly been able to rely on.

  “It won’t work. And I don’t want to be stuck with someone because my egg and your sperm decided to dance together. You shouldn’t want that, either.”

  “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  She set the plate down on the nightstand and rose. “Well, I’m not. Besides, I told you…I’m already married,” she reminded him as she quickly made her way to the door.

  “Do you love him?”

  She stopped in her tracks and turned back to him slowly. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Can you answer the question?”

  She swallowed the knot that suddenly formed in her throat. “Y-yes.”

  “Yes, you love him? Or, yes, you can answer the question?”

  Don’t drag this out. Just end it now before things get worse. “Both.”

  Nash gave her a long, searing look, one of confusion and frustration and…pain? Yes, definitely pain. She hadn’t known she could hurt him and wasn’t sure why he would be upset over a stranger refusing to marry him. And why did her own chest suddenly feel heavier and her throat raw? Damn it.

  “Look, Nash, I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s complicated, okay? In time, we’ll figure out all the details. But, right now, I have to go. I can’t be late. Just leave me your phone number on the notepad, and I’ll call you when things settle down.” Then she walked out of the bedroom.

  As she grabbed her car keys from the key hanger and opened the front door, Nash stomped out of the bedroom at a furious pace. She ignored him and headed for her ugly brown car, but he followed right behind her.

  “You have some fucking nerve, you know that?” he yelled as she unlocked her car. “You’ll call me when things calm down? Yeah, right. When the hell will that be…when the ki
d’s leaving for college?”

  All around them, nosy neighbors peeked out their windows to see what the commotion was all about. “Quiet down. My neighbors can hear you.”

  “I don’t give a damn what they hear.” His eyes blazed like an inferno as he worked himself up more. “What are you afraid of? That word will get back to your husband that you not only cheated on him, but you’re carrying another man’s child?”

  “That’s it! I think it’s time for you to go,” Bailey sneered, wrenching open the door on her car. “In fact, don’t bother coming back.”

  “Damn it,” Nash muttered before blowing out a hard breath. “Look, I’m sorry. But we need to figure this out now.”

  “No, we don’t,” she said, still upset. Maybe his sky-high temper had landed safely on the ground, but hers was still soaring in the turbulent air his arrogance had left behind. “I want you to leave.”

  “Can’t we just talk about it?”

  “Because it worked out so well this time?” She checked her watch and then shook her head. “No. I don’t have time for any of this. Just go.”

  “Fine,” he huffed out. “But don’t be surprised if we run into each other again…soon.”

  She didn’t think he meant it as a threat, but it sure came across like one, which only made her eyes narrow more. “Chances are, the next time I run into you, it’s going to be while I’m in my car with my foot on the gas,” she said, before sliding into her vehicle and driving away.

  As she headed across town, tears blurred her vision before trickling down her cheeks. There were so many loose ends to tie up before she left town, and Nash was now one of them. Her life was complicated enough without adding another person to the mix. It wasn’t like she wanted to go through this alone. But she hated the idea of clinging to a man like some brittle…girl.

  She was stronger than that, damn it.

  But his constant reminders of what her first marriage should’ve been like were wreaking havoc on her brain and damaging her heart. Through his words alone, she saw a glimpse of what marriage to him could be like. Fully covered medical insurance, a nice home, a safe area to raise their baby, and a sexy husband who would love their child unconditionally and protect him—or her—with all the strength he possessed. But every time Nash pushed his marriage proposal on her, she knew what he was really thinking.