One More Time_A Second Chance Romance

by Rye Hart

Not sure what else I could do though, I told him it was fine and put my phone away.

  Tears, fat and warm, rolled down my cheeks. I wasn't even sure why I was crying, except for the fact that I felt emotional and scared. What if Malcolm had changed his mind about wanting a baby? Or that his feelings for me had changed somewhere along the line.

  Maybe, that was why he'd asked to slow things down if we weren't pregnant. If that was the case, what in the hell was I going to do then? I couldn't force him to raise the child – not if he didn't want to raise it. If he didn't want to take the baby after it was born, there was nothing I could do about it.

  The other side of that coin was that I wasn't capable of raising it on my own. There was no way I could do it, not with so many responsibilities already heaped on my plate. The idea of an abortion, one of the only other realistic options I could consider, made me cry even harder.

  I couldn't explain it, but as soon as I'd found out there was a life inside of me, I loved that baby. My heart swelled when I thought about it and I wanted the best for the baby. I also knew that unless Malcolm went through with the plan, and did as he said he'd do, I was not going to be able to raise a child on my own. Which was problematic in so many ways.

  More than that though, I wanted to know what sort of life could I expect for my child, even if Malcolm did end up wanting him or her? Would he be a good father? Or would he be an absentee father? Would he actually raise a child, or let nannies do it for him?

  So many questions, and all of them without an answer. All I knew was there was no way I'd get an answer over the phone. I needed to see him in person. I needed to ask him these questions face to face and see what kind of answers he had for me.

  As I thought about it, and the questions swirled around my head, a dark, ominous feeling washed over me. What if he wasn't going to let me in? If he refused to see me, what could I do?

  Then an idea hit me. Hard. It probably wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, but it was, at least, a way in. A family dinner. Just like the one Adam had invited me to before. It might piss off Malcolm, but I saw no way around it. If he wasn't going to return my texts and wasn't going to see me, what else could I do?

  I grabbed hold of my purse and dropped it in my lap, digging around until I found the card Adam had given me at their office. His cell phone number was listed on it, and before I could give it any more thought – which would more than likely result in me stopping myself from going on with this foolish plan – I'd already texted him.

  Adam, it's Casey. Does the offer still stand to meet the family?

  I bit my nail, my stomach churning – and not because of the pregnancy – as I waited for a response. His answer came within two seconds, flat.

  Of course, Casey. I'll pick you up at six. Just send me your address.

  Just like that, I was in. I'd be joining the Cranes – Malcolm included – for dinner. He wouldn't be able to turn me away then, right? Nor would he be able to duck my questions. It was going to be tense and awkward, but it was unfortunately, necessary. It wasn't about me and my needs, or even about Malcolm and his needs. Not anymore.

  ~ooo000ooo~

  Adam was at my door about fifteen minutes earlier than I'd expected. I was having second thoughts and had been seriously contemplating canceling the entire thing, but I still had no word back from Malcolm, and I couldn't handle the stress of waiting another day to see if he'd finally get back to me. We needed to talk, and he was being evasive.

  He seemed to be too busy for me these days, and I was sick of sitting around and waiting for him to make time for me. Especially since I had something very important to tell him and needed to figure out what the next steps were going to be.

  “Just have to throw on some shoes,” I said. “Feel free to come inside.”

  I dug through Raya's shoe pile until I found a cute pair of kitten heels, which went perfectly with the strapless floral dress I'd borrowed from her as well. Having friends with money came with some added benefits sometimes – like being able to find nice clothes when you need to be presentable.

  “No rush. Take your time,” Adam said, as he walked around the tiny studio, looking at everything. “Cute place you have here.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  I didn't feel the need to explain that it wasn't actually my place. We weren't that close. Besides, if he thought I lived in WeHo, it might make him respect me a little bit more. Or at least, not look down on me as much. WeHo was the hip, bougie place to be these days.

  I turned and saw him holding Raya's bong. He held it up and sniffed it before giving me a mischievous look.

  “That's not mine,” I mumbled.

  Though now, as I actually looked around the place, I noticed there were several bongs on shelves, along with other pot smoking paraphernalia. Damn, Raya. I knew she liked to smoke a joint now and then, but did she really need this much crap?

  “Hey, it's legal now. Who am I to judge what a girl does in her own home?” he said, putting the funky blue bong back down on the coffee table with a laugh.

  “No, but seriously, it's not mine. I don't do that, legal or not,” I muttered. “Nothing against it, it's just not my thing.”

  “Sure, okay,” Adam said with a shrug. “I really don't give a shit if you smoke pot or not. We all have our secrets and vices. Even my brother.”

  My ears perked up at the mention of Malcolm. As if he could read my mind, Adam chuckled and shook his head a bit. He looked up at me and seemed to be relishing the fact that he knew something I didn't. Or maybe, it was the fact that he could potentially destroy the image of Malcolm I carried around in my head with what he knew.

  Either way, it was kind of greasy, and kind of a dick move. It made me like him even less than I already did. But, he was a means to an end, so I needed to play nice. For now, at least.

  “You really don't know Malcolm that well, do you?” he asked.

  “Not really,” I said.

  “But you're sleeping together”

  I stared at him, wide-eyed, and slack-jawed. “How did you – ”

  “I didn't actually,” Adam said, smirking, with his hands buried deep into his pockets. “But I do now. God, you should see the look on your face right now.”

  I closed my mouth and stood up tall. “I didn't say we were.”

  “Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I couldn't care less if you're sleeping with Malcolm or not. I'm just surprised he moved on so fast,” he said. “You look like a nice enough girl though. Not really his usual type, but I can see the attraction.”

  I wasn't sure if that was meant as a compliment or not. I didn't take it as one.

  “Don't call me sweetheart,” I said. “I'm not a fan of pet names and we're not that close, Adam.”

  “Oh, sorry, didn't mean to offend you,” Adam said.

  He looked a lot like Malcolm standing there. I could definitely see the family resemblance. They had similar bone structure and everything. Adam was maybe a couple inches shorter, with different colored eyes, but you could tell they were related. Adam was dressed impeccably as well, just like his brother. Unlike Malcolm, however, I didn't like Adam. Not at all.

  I sneered at him and considered telling him he could take his “sweetheart” and “nice enough girl” comments, shove them up his ass, and get the fuck out of my life. But, he was my only way in to see Malcolm, and to hopefully get some answers about the type of family environment my baby would be growing up in.

  So far, I wasn't impressed. Like, not at all.

  “I'm ready,” I said, opening the door and waiting for Adam to follow me out.

  He took one last look around Raya's place before exiting the apartment. I locked the door behind us and followed him down onto the street.

  “Your chariot awaits,” Adam said, opening the car door for me.

  I glared at him, wanting to tell him I had two hands capable of opening doors myself, but I let it go. He probably thought he was being chivalrous, but his attitude was nothing but condescending. H
e made me sick. After tonight though, I might never have to see him again and his asshole, sexist attitude wouldn't matter.

  But, if Malcolm still wanted this baby, this would be his uncle. No need to piss him off. He was practically family and all. Ugh.

  “An Acura, huh?” I didn't mean to say it out loud, it just happened to pop out.

  “What was that?” Adam asked, sliding into the driver's seat beside me, and buckling up.

  “Oh, nothing,” I said. “I'm just surprised you don't drive a more pretentious car like a BMW or something.”

  Adam laughed and started the car.

  “I mean, not that Acuras are bad cars,” I said. “hell, it's still better than anything I could afford.”

  Way to not piss off the brother, Casey, I thought to myself. I really should learn to keep my mouth shut.

  “I guess Malcolm never told you,” Adam said.

  His voice was softer than I'd expected, and I saw a flash of something in his eyes that resembled sadness. I had no idea, but I saw it, and then it was gone, like it had never been, as Adam got himself back under control again.

  “Told me what?” I asked.

  Adam sighed as he glanced over at me, a contemplative look on his face. He seemed to be studying me, trying to decide if he could confide in me. Finally, he gave himself a little nod, apparently deciding that he could.

  “While Malcolm was lucky enough to grow up a Crane, I didn't discover who my father was until a few years ago,” he said, his voice tinged with bitterness. “Oh, he'd been sending money all these years, but it wasn't much. My mom practically had to beg for every penny she could get from the old man. I may work for him now, but I'll never be Malcolm. I work a shitty customer service job, while he's training to be CEO. I make decent enough money though, so I can't complain, I just wish... ”

  He trailed off and that sad, or regretful flash in his eyes returned. He fell silent and look out beyond the windshield, the look on his face saying he was somewhere else. Another time or another life, perhaps. The only thing I knew was that he wasn't there in the car with me at that moment.

  “You wish what?”

  “Nothing,” he snapped, breaking himself out of his reverie. “Forget I said anything.”

  I didn't care enough about Adam to push the issue. If he didn't want to talk to me about it, that was his choice. That was fine. I stared off out the window, lost in my own thoughts and problems. I didn't have much in the way of room to take his on too.

  Part of me though, wanted to feel bad for Adam. Even if I didn't like him. Yet, he still had it easier than I ever did simply because his father was a Crane. Shitty customer service job or not, he still had money, and at the end of the day, he had a warm house he could go home to. He no longer had to worry about where his next meal was coming from.

  Adam drove us into Beverly Hills. It shouldn’t have surprised me in the least that someone like Malcolm and his family would live there – and yet, on some levels, it did. Maybe, because I'd forgotten exactly how wealthy he was. When we were together, it was easy to think of him as just a person, and not a billionaire. He was usually just so down to earth and easy going. He didn't seem like the usual uptight rich assholes I had to deal with when I worked at Obelisk.

  The car stopped outside a wrought iron gate, and Adam entered a passcode into the security keypad beside the driveway. The gates opened, and he guided the car down a long driveway that led to a stunningly gorgeous mansion. It was enormous and looked like something one of the Real Housewives would live in. “Ready to meet the infamous Crane family?” Adam said, his voice as dry as sandpaper.

  He sounded about as excited as I did to finally meet Malcolm's family. Maybe under different circumstances I'd be excited, but Malcolm wasn't expecting me, and I wasn't sure how well this would go over with him. After all, he'd never mentioned introducing me to his family before.

  There was probably a reason for that, I thought to myself

  I knew I wasn't the sort of girl he usually dated. Iwas from the wrong side of the tracks, as the old saying went. He'd be dating down to be with somebody like me. Dating well below his station, or some snooty shit like that.

  But what were they going to think and say when they found out he was going to have a child with somebody so beneath his station?

  “Do we have our story straight?” I asked Adam, peering over at him as we sat in the car, staring at the ridiculously large mansion before us.

  “You're my date for the night,” he said. “Simple enough. They're used to me bringing random girls over. Don't expect Cynthia to be pleasant though. She hates my guts. It's not personal.”

  “Cynthia is –?”

  “Malcolm's mother, sorry.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  My pulse was going crazy and I felt a headache coming on. I briefly considered telling Adam that I'd made a mistake with all of this and would just take a cab home. I knew that if I stepped through those doors, Malcolm might be furious with me. He might decide it was too much drama for him to deal with and send me packing.

  But dammit, I was pregnant with his child and he couldn't simply ignore me. That's not who I was, and that's not who I was going to let him be. This was an issue we needed to deal with head on. Since he wasn't returning my calls, I decided that the best option was to bring the issue to him.

  “Alright,” Adam said, taking a deep breath of his own. “Let's do this.”

  He opened the car door for me, and this time, I wasn't even mad. I was too lost in thought and trying to keep myself from being freaked out to notice or really care all that much. My legs were weak, but he took hold of my arm and helped me walk up the stairs and onto a porch studded with ornate Greek columns. Lights shone from inside the house, the windows glowing a bright orange against the darkness and the evening moonlight.

  I stared at the ornate wood door, the name ‘Crane’ carved into it with birds intricately carved alongside it. “I guess it's now or never, right?” I said. “Time to put up or shut up.”

  “You'll be okay. You'll do just fine, Casey,” Adam said, opening up the door so we could head inside.

  Yeah, just fine. If I could keep myself from throwing up all over the fancy, expensive oriental rug in the foyer, that would be a great start. Adam seemed as cool and confident as ever, any sign of his former self – the poor, neglected child whose father had forgotten about him – was gone. In his place was the arrogant and cocky little shit I took him to be from the moment we met.

  The first person we ran into when we stepped into the foyer was an older Hispanic woman. She looked from Adam to me, and then she smiled brightly. Her smile was warm and genuine, and I got a good feeling about her. In some ways, she reminded me a lot of my own abuela.

  “Casey, this is Alba,” she said.

  “Un placer concrete, Alba,” I said.

  The woman looked at Adam, then back at me, a look of mile surprise in her eyes, but the smile growing wider on her face.

  “Gracias, mi nina.” Alba said, taking my hands in hers. “I like her already, Adam.”

  Well, at least I had one ally in the house. By the looks of things, she was probably their housekeeper. How cliche could you get, really?

  Adam laughed. “I have no idea what you've just said to one another, but okay.”

  “I just told her it was nice to meet her, and she thanked me,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Did you never take Spanish back in school?”

  “I don't recall,” he said. “But, I'll consider that my Spanish lesson for today. I'll be hablo'ing real good in no time flat.”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed as he took my hand and led me through the foyer. We walked into a hallway that ended in a grand staircase. I heard voices upstairs, and when I heard one in particular, my heart started to thunder in my chest. I held my breath as we waited at the bottom of the stairs for him to make an appearance. As we stood there, I found myself gripping Adam's hand tighter than I'd intended. I also started contemplating the wisdom of turning a
round and getting the hell out of there, calling an Uber, and going the hell home.

  What had I been thinking to come here? To crash their family dinner party like that?

  Before I could turn and run, I heard footsteps coming down the staircase, and finally, I caught sight of Malcolm. He was walking alongside a woman I'd seen before. As I looked at her, I realized that I knew who she was. She was the girlfriend from the club. The one Malcolm said he was done with. The woman he said he'd never be with again. Ever.

  The two were lost in their conversation, looking entirely cozy with one another, and Malcolm was staring intently at her. When she rounded the corner, I noticed she was holding her stomach, caressing it, and smiling warmly. She was wearing an empire waist dress that flowed out from her stomach, a style someone like her wouldn't wear unless –

  “I made a mistake coming here,” I said. “I need to go. I need to get out of here.”

  I'd meant to speak low enough that only Adam could hear me, but apparently, I spoke loud enough that it made Malcolm and his girlfriend to stop on the stairs and look down at me.

  “Casey? What are –”

  The blonde stepped forward. “This is Casey?” she sneered. “What is she doing here?”

  Malcolm's blue eyes turned to steel and his jaw clenched as he walked the rest of the way down the stairs. He stood before me, his face a blank mask that bore no emotion whatsoever. He turned that look toward Adam, and when he did, something changed in his expression. His face went from someone trying to hide their emotions to a man who was very clearly angry beyond measure. The air around us was saturated with tension; charged with electricity and the anticipation of violence.

  I backed up, moving toward the doorway, and away from the two men who were locked in an intense stare-down. Malcolm looked like he wanted to take Adam apart piece by piece. Adam though, looked back at his half-brother with an amused little smirk on his face.

  Malcolm turned and locked eyes with me. Although the anger he'd been directing at Adam had mostly faded, there was still a trace of it left. His gaze bored into me and singed by skin with its heat and intensity.