by Street, K.
My breath caught, and for a split second, the demons that haunted me threatened to pull me under. I refused to be swallowed by rejection and abandonment. Paige had waited for so long for a chance like this. She had always been determined to earn her place in her family’s company.
This wasn’t about me. About my fears or my wounds or that I was going to have a baby in several weeks, and I wouldn’t have Paige to lean on.
This was about my best friend in the entire world getting a shot at her dreams, and there was no way I was going to put a damper on that.
“I am so damn proud of you.”
“Really?”
“Hell yes! I’m going to miss you like crazy, but I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks, Molls. It means so much to hear you say that.” The sound of papers rustling filtered through the line. “Promise me you’ll at least consider moving in with Easton. When the baby comes, you’re going to need some help.”
“I’ll think about it.” A thought occurred to me. “Remember that envelope I gave you?”
“Yes,” she squealed. “Oh my God! You’re going to look, aren’t you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Damn it. Here I was, all excited.”
I rolled my eyes even though she couldn’t see me.
“The envelope is inside the Oreo box in the pantry.”
I cracked up. “You mean, the giant box you bought at Costco, like, six months ago? You’re such a dork. Why would you put it there?”
“Easy. You hate Oreos. It’s the one place you would never look.”
Damn.
“Touché.”
“Now, go get it and tell me what it says.”
“Nice try.” I didn’t tell her Easton had invited me to Maplewood Falls for the weekend. I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to go, but if I did go, I would be taking the envelope with me. “If I peek, I’ll tell you.”
“You’d better.” She yawned. “Or I will cross the ocean and pummel your ass. You know, after you have the baby.”
“Deal. I should let you go. You must be exhausted.”
“I am. The time difference is a bitch. We’ll talk soon. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Night.” I ended the call.
I held the phone in my palm, staring at the screen long after it went dark until the sound of the doorbell startled me.
I shoved the phone into the small pocket in the waistband of my yoga pants and trudged into the living room to answer the door. When I pulled it open, a gangly, pimple-faced teenager stood on the other side, holding a thermal bag.
He withdrew the contents and held them out to me. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” I took the paper sack from him. “Hang on.” I looked over my shoulder for my purse to tip him.
“Everything has been paid for. Have a good night, ma’am.” With that, he strode away.
I closed the door and locked it, and then I carried my food into the kitchen. I had no idea what Easton had ordered, but it smelled heavenly. My appetite that I had lost upon hearing Paige’s news returned with a vengeance.
I opened one container after another. There was enough food to feed at least four people. Rice, beans, carne asada, tortillas, sliced avocado, limes, and fresh salsa. I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, made a plate, and carried it into the living room, setting my drink on the table.
As I sat on the couch, I was struck by the eerie silence surrounding me. The space was too quiet. Too empty. It wasn’t just the quietude. It was more than that. There was an ache deep in my core. As though the stillness had seeped into my bones.
I’d spent years erecting walls around my heart, laying brick upon brick until I’d created an expanse so high and wide that I’d made it impossible for anyone to breach. I was a captive in a prison constructed by my own hands. More than anything, I wanted to break free.
How is it possible that I miss Easton with such intensity?
The weight of Easton’s absence made absolutely no sense. He had been here less than forty-eight hours, yet he’d managed to fill every inch of my space. I missed the pecking of his fingers on the computer keys while he worked. The heaviness of his hand on my belly and the sweet connection we had as he felt our baby move for the first time. I missed the warmth of his breath when we were close enough to kiss and the way his skin smelled.
I had done nothing but miss him since the day I left that note on the counter. People had been leaving me for as long as I could remember. Like a fool, I’d thought being the one who left would somehow be less painful. Only it wasn’t, and the knowledge that I had been the one to cause pain made it that much more agonizing.
Easton was part of me. My soul ached for him. For a family and a place to call home.
A kick came from deep in my womb.
The emptiness ebbed, and with a certainty I had never felt before, I came to a decision. For the first time in my whole life, I was going to run toward something.
Nineteen
Easton
On Tuesday morning, Saylor walked into my office while I stood, poring over a set of blueprints.
“Hey, big brother,” she greeted. “You look like hell. Things in the city go that bad?”
“No.” I glanced up from the papers. “A new client wants to make a few changes, and I’m trying to figure out the most cost-effective way to do it while making sure the building remains structurally sound.”
She yawned. “Sorry. I started to doze as soon as you said cost-effective. Seriously though”—she waved a finger in my direction—“what’s with the dark circles? It can’t be this project.”
“Close the door, kid.”
“Ugh. How many times do I have to tell you that you aren’t allowed to call me that at work?”
I took a seat behind my desk. “Remind me again who signs your paychecks.”
Saylor closed the door. “Technically, you don’t. Not anymore.” She took a seat in one of the two chairs on the opposite side of my desk and waited for me to speak.
She had a point. When Saylor had come to work for me, one of the first things she had done was set up direct deposit for Chadwick Designs and Development, so theoretically, she wasn’t wrong.
“What’s on your mind, East? Are you okay?”
“Molly’s pregnant.” I’d never been one for beating around the bush.
“Wait, what?”
“Molly’s pregnant. That’s why I was in Atlanta this weekend.”
“It’s yours?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Saylor,” I warned.
“That’s why she showed up to my house on Memorial Day weekend. It all makes sense now. Why didn’t you say anything though?”
“I didn’t know.”
“So, she came all that way and didn’t tell you.”
“It wasn’t like I gave her much of a chance. I slammed the door in her face. Twice.”
“Twice?”
I told her about Molly showing up at my house the next day, Paige’s phone call, and just how I’d found out Molly was pregnant and my subsequent reaction.
“Damn, big brother. You’re sort of an asshole. Also, you’re not very bright.”
My steely glare landed on her.
Saylor ignored it. “Don’t look at me like that. Molly isn’t my favorite person. I hate what she did to you, but in hindsight, how could you not know she was pregnant? Why else would she show up?”
Her question seemed rhetorical, and I didn’t bother with an answer.
She muttered something about men being clueless and then asked, “Are you two together now?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I told her to move in with me.”
“Wait. You told her to move in, but you’re not together?”
“Yes. No. Hell if I know.”
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
“Dad does. I’m going to talk to Mom tonight, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say
anything.”
“My lips are sealed. I’m sure Mom will be over the moon to have another grandchild.” A dark shadow crossed over my sister’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
I knew Saylor had wanted a houseful of kids. She and my brother-in-law had just decided to try for baby number two before he died. It had been nearly two years since she lost Colin, and even though things with Saylor and my best friend, Jase, were getting pretty serious, Say still wore her wedding band on a chain around her neck. My sister was sort of stuck. Tethered to the husband she had lost while falling in love with someone else.
For two people who had grown up in what some considered a perfect family, we were kind of a mess.
“Are you happy at least? About the baby?” Saylor’s voice broke my train of thought.
I considered her question. I recalled what it’d felt like when the baby kicked against my hand. A smile tipped the corners of my mouth. “Yes, I’m happy.”
“I’m going to be an aunt.” Excitement filled her words as she rose from the chair.
I stood just in time for her to throw her arms around my neck.
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks, kid.” I gave her a squeeze, slightly lifting her off her feet. Then, I let her go, and she took a step back. “Molly might be visiting this weekend. I invited her to come down on Saturday and to go to Mom and Dad’s for dinner on Sunday. Can you at least try to be nice to her?”
She attempted an innocent look and even went as far as batting her eyes. “Who, me?”
“Saylor, I’m not joking. Don’t act like a little shit.”
“Fine.” She held her hands up in surrender. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Consider it my birthday gift to you.”
“Thank you.”
Only time would tell if my sister would be true to her word.
* * *
It was just past noon on Saturday when my doorbell rang. I twisted the knob and pulled open the door to find Molly on my porch, wearing a simple, sleeveless navy dress. Her long brown hair woven into a single braid. The knot on her forehead had all but vanished, but a greenish-yellow bruise lingered, which she had attempted to conceal with makeup.
My gaze roamed over her in slow perusal. I swallowed hard as my stare briefly halted on the globes of her perfect tits, which seemed bigger than they had days ago. The inspection continued from her breasts to her protruding belly, which also seemed to have grown.
I reached for the handle of the small suitcase in her hand. “Come on in.” I stepped out of the way, so she could get past me.
“Thanks.”
I nodded and closed the door. Other than a few texts between us so I could check on her, we hadn’t really talked much since I saw her last.
“How was the drive?”
“It was fine.” She attempted a smile.
“Good.” I lowered the handle on the luggage and picked it up. “I’m just going to drop this in the guest room.”
Molly fell in step behind me as we made our way across the house. We stepped through the doorway of the smaller of the two extra bedrooms.
“You switched things around. The other room was originally the guest room, wasn’t it?”
I dropped the case on the bed and turned to her, crossing my arms. “Yeah. This was Knox’s room while he and Saylor were living with me. Earlier this week, Jase helped me move the furniture from the other guest room into here.”
The other room was bigger, and it made more sense to use it for the nursery. I refrained from giving the explanation to Molly though.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“No, I’m fine. Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
She stepped into the room and sat on the bed. Her stare was focused on her clasped hands resting in her lap. “Paige is moving to London.”
“London. Wow. For good?”
“Three months but most likely longer. It could be six months to a year.”
I knew how close the two of them were. Molly’s parents and grandmother were deceased. Paige was all she had.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.” She went quiet.
I picked up the suitcase, set it on the floor, and took a seat beside her, waiting her out.
“I was thinking … I mean, if it’s okay with you and if your offer still stands, I’d like to move in after the baby is born—at least while I’m on maternity leave.”
The sentence ran together. Each syllable piling one on top of another, rushing past her lips. Like, if she didn’t get them out fast enough, she’d lose her courage.
It was the “while I’m on maternity leave” that set me on edge.
“What happens then? When your maternity leave is up?”
Her green eyes met my blue ones. “We’ll figure it out.”
It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear, but at least it was something.
I held Molly’s gaze for several beats, entertaining thoughts of what it would be like if our circumstances were different. If we were husband and wife instead of whatever it was we were. If this baby had been planned instead of the result of a carnal, drunken one-night stand.
Molly reached for my hand and placed it on her stomach. The intimate gesture caught me off guard. I dropped my gaze to our hands. Her delicate palm rested on top of mine. Then, I lifted my eyes back to hers. Molly’s glassy emerald irises stared back at me.
Without a second thought, I dropped to my knees on the floor in front of her. After work this week, I had done a lot of reading about babies and pregnancy. While doing so, I had learned that Molly was far enough along that the baby could hear sounds and recognize voices.
“What’re you doing?”
“Just humor me. I want to try something.” I pushed Molly’s knees apart, positioning myself between her legs, and splayed my large hands over her stomach, focusing on her bump. “Hi, baby. This is your daddy.”
I waited for a few seconds, and when I didn’t feel any movement, I kept talking, “I don’t know if you’re a boy or a girl. It doesn’t matter to me either way. If you’re a girl, the only thing I’ll never be able to do is teach you how to pee outside. Or inside for that matter. The whole standing-up thing is a little tricky.”
Molly laughed.
A strong kick thumped against the palm of my right hand.
How is it possible to love someone you’ve never met?
Whatever the future held, I would play an active role in my kid’s life, and if Molly decided to run, she damn well wouldn’t be taking our baby with her.
Twenty
Molly
The memory of last night was still fresh in my mind. Easton kneeling in front of me while he talked to our child. The love that had swelled up inside me at the sight and how my heart had felt as though it would rupture from trying to contain it. I had wanted to strip my soul bare before him, but I was too scared. My fear was still there. Ever present. An invisible force that kept my fingers from running through his hair. My palms from caressing his face. My mouth from dipping to his. My lips from confessing my secrets and owning my lies. I should tell him the truth about my parents and Gran. I wanted to recant what I’d said to him that day in Atlanta. When I told him that I didn’t love him, that I didn’t want him, but once you said something like that, you couldn’t take it back.
Words were cheap, and I couldn’t change the past, but I could put my love into action. I could find a way to show him I hadn’t meant those things I said.
Before I’d left Atlanta, I’d thought of a perfect gift, which was currently stashed in my bag, but I wanted to give it to him later when the time was right.
I got out of bed, straightened the blankets, grabbed a change of clothes, and made my way to the bathroom down the hall. After I took care of business, brushed my hair, and made myself look somewhat presentable, I wandered into the kitchen.
While Easton might have swapped bedrooms around, nearly everything in his kitchen was where it had always been. I grab
bed a skillet from one of the deep drawers near the stove and set it on top of the burner. From there, I went to the fridge, and a quick inventory of its contents told me I had the ingredients on hand to whip up a couple of Denver omelets.
Thirty minutes later, Easton sleepily ambled into the kitchen dressed in sleep pants sans shirt. The sight of him shirtless caused my pulse to skyrocket.
"’Morning.” His voice rough and gravelly.
“G-good morning,” I stammered. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” His eyes roamed around the room. “You made breakfast.” A smile tipped the corner of his lips as he sat at the island.
I set the plate in front of him along with a cup of coffee and grabbed the lighter. I had found a single birthday candle and one of those long grill lighters in the kitchen junk drawer. After I wrapped a tiny bit of aluminum foil around the bottom of the candle, I stuck it into Easton’s omelet.
The click of the lighter sounded, and I held the glowing orange flame to the candle wick. “Make a wish.”
He smirked and I could tell he was going to humor me.
Easton closed his eyes and a second later blew it out.
“It looks great.” Easton picked up his fork cutting into the omelet. Steam billowed into the air. Gooey cheddar cheese stretched from the plate and clung to the tines as he lifted the utensil to his mouth.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Those full lips rounded into an O while he lightly blew to cool the food before placing it in his mouth. I remembered those lips. The way they had felt on my skin once upon a time.
A low moan came from Easton. “Damn. This is good.”
“Thanks.”
He quizzically eyed me. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
“Yeah.” Heat rushed to my cheeks and I gave him my back as I went over to the counter and retrieved my own breakfast, as well as my cup of tea and sat at the island leaving an empty stool between us.