The Right Side of Wrong

by Prescott Lane

  “You didn’t need to bring him anything,” I say, walking over to them.

  He looks over at Slade, putting the bear on the floor. “Polar bears were Slade’s favorite when he was little.”

  Slade kneels, letting Finn hug the bear. “Must run in the family,” Slade says.

  His dad looks up at me, and I’m not sure if he’s surprised to hear his son talk like that or proud that he did. Either way, it makes my day. I kneel beside them, taking hold of Finn. “Say thank you.” It’s not that I actually expect him to utter those words, but it’s never too early to start instilling good manners.

  “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes,” I say, heading back toward the kitchen.

  “Paige?” Slade says, his eyes begging me to stay, but I’m not going to be his buffer. The man has multiple houses, cars, business ventures, and makes million-dollar deals, so he can handle dinner with his father. “Five minutes tops.”

  I might stretch the five minutes to ten just to give the ice a chance to thaw, but we’ll see. I get Finn’s food together, setting it on his high chair and sneaking a peek at the three of them in the den. Slade’s on the floor with Finn, holding him up while he moves his legs like he’s trying to walk. Finn’s making too much noise for me to really hear what they are saying, but at least they’re talking, and it doesn’t appear to be angry. That’s an improvement.

  Taking the roast out of the oven, I call the guys in for dinner. The condo doesn’t have a dining room. The only place to eat is the table in the kitchen, so dinner will be pretty casual, which is best, less pressure.

  They each file in, and Slade puts Finn in his high chair. I’ve positioned Finn between us tonight. It’s best to have a two-man offense to combat his spills with company over.

  “Smells good,” Lyle says, taking his seat.

  I smile but think he must be lying. I’ve got no appetite. I’m not sure if it’s the pressure of having Slade’s father over, the fact that I’m lying to the man I love, or a combination of both. Nothing smells good to me, but I have to muster through this dinner for the sake of Slade and our family relationship. It’s too important. Slade starts filling our plates, and I notice he’s not putting any carrots on his. It would serve him right if I called him out on that in front of his father, but Lyle beats me to it and spoons a few on his son’s plate. “Need to set a good example for Finn.”

  I can’t help but burst out laughing and reach out, holding my hand up for his dad to give me a high five. “I’m not eating those,” Slade says, grinning at me.

  “Did you ever make him sit at the table until he ate his vegetables as a kid?” I ask Lyle.

  “Only once,” he says, looking at his son. “You remember.”

  “Brussels sprouts,” they both say in unison, a disgusted tone in each of their voices.

  Lyle looks over at me. “We found him asleep at the table at breakfast the next morning. Stubborn kid sat there all night.”

  “Did you ever eat them?” I ask, moving the food around on my plate but not able to take a bite.

  Slade eyes my plate then looks at his dad, something sweet in his eyes. “Mom packed them in my lunch box that day. She called the school and asked them not to let me throw them away.”

  “My Juliet,” his dad says.

  “When I brought my lunch box home, and she saw they were still there, she put them on my plate for dinner.”

  “I like her,” I say.

  “Slade figured they’d eventually get old, and he’d get out of eating them,” Lyle says.

  Slade rolls his eyes. “She just made me new ones.”

  “How long did this last?” I ask.

  “A month,” Lyle says.

  “You’re kidding?” I say. “Who finally won?”

  Lyle looks at his son. “I ate the damn Brussels sprouts, okay? Happy?” Slade says.

  “What made you eat them?” I ask.

  He looks at his dad, grinning. “Dad came home from work late one night, and I was sitting at the table with those damn sprouts. He didn’t say a word. He just reached into his briefcase and pulled out a bottle of that spray cheese.”

  “That stuff is disgusting,” I say, my stomach churning at the thought.

  “Yeah, but all kids love it,” Slade says. “He covered those Brussels sprouts in that cheese.”

  “We just smiled at each other, and he ate them,” Lyle says.

  “Did you ever tell Mom that?” Slade asks.

  “I told your mother everything,” he says. “You can’t be in a relationship and have secrets. Even small ones.”

  My stomach clenches.

  “Besides,” Lyle says, “it was your mother’s idea.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  SLADE

  I peek in on Finn, fast asleep in his crib. He stayed up later than usual, having taken to my dad. It was a good night. Leaning against the doorway, I listen to him breathe and watch his little chest rise and fall. Paige has given me so much more than I ever expected or even knew I wanted.

  Which is kind of ironic since she didn’t have a penny to her name when I met her, living in that run-down apartment in the worst neighborhood in Nashville. On the other hand, I was the one who seemingly had it all—career, money, houses, yet she’s the one who’s given me everything. Without her, I wouldn’t have Finn. Without her, I wouldn’t be speaking to my dad again. Without her, I wouldn’t be remembering my mom or talking about her. I haven’t done any of that in years. All of that I owe to Paige.

  It’s not that I think things with my dad are fixed by any stretch of the imagination, but we seem to have found some common ground again. We both loved my mom. If for no other reason, we can get along to honor her memory. She would want peace. She would want us to get along. And surprisingly, my dad seems to really enjoy being around Finn.

  It was surreal to see him holding Finn at the dinner table, feeding him mashed-up carrots. Watching him with Finn, it’s like watching him with me when I was little. I’d almost forgotten about that. The bad was so bad that it overshadowed the good we had together. As I said, I haven’t forgotten all the things he said to me, the women he brought into my mother’s house. I won’t ever forget, but somehow, it seemed a little easier tonight to remember the good things.

  Stepping away from Finn’s door, I walk to my bedroom, finding Paige all curled up under the covers with her eyes closed. She’s still, but I don’t think she’s asleep already. We usually end up under the covers when Finn goes to sleep, but we’re usually together and naked. We’ve come a long way since I first found her asleep in my bed at the ranch.

  “Paige,” I say, walking over and taking a seat beside her on the bed. Her eyes flutter, and she looks up at me, and it’s obvious that she’s sick. She didn’t look herself before dinner, and during dinner, I noticed she didn’t eat much, simply moving the food around on her plate. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I just don’t feel right.”

  “You didn’t eat much earlier,” I say. “Maybe you need to eat something.”

  Her nose wrinkles up. “Nothing even sounds good. Besides, my stomach is kind of cramping and . . .”

  As soon as she says the word cramps, the light bulb goes off. “Period?” I ask.

  She shakes her head, and I touch her forehead. She doesn’t feel hot, not that I’m an expert, but clearly, something is going on. “What can I get you?”

  “Nothing,” she says. “I’m too nauseous to eat anything.”

  A year ago, that wouldn’t bring up any red flags, but I’ve spent the past nine months with Catrine, and I wasn’t kidding when I said she told me every symptom she had. My heart misses a few beats. “Could you be pregnant?”

  “No,” she says, her blue eyes wide with fear, and her voice not sounding very sure. “I told you I’m on the pill.”

  Isn’t the pill like ninety-something percent effective? It couldn’t have failed her twice—Finn and now? Then again, I never asked if she was on it bef
ore Finn.

  She looks scared shitless. I don’t know what happened when she told Finn’s dad she was pregnant, but from the look on her face right now, I’d say it wasn’t good.

  “Hey,” I say, taking her hand and pulling her into my lap on the bed. “It would be happy news if you were.”

  She looks up at me. “Would it?”

  Lightly, I place my hand on her flat stomach. “Very happy news.”

  She starts giggling. “You’re insane. I’m not pregnant.”

  “You could be,” I say.

  “Stop saying that,” she says. “Finn isn’t even a year old.”

  “I know you’ve been through this before,” I say, and she gives me a sad smile. “And if you are, I’ll be there with you the whole way. You won’t be alone this time.”

  The tears start flowing.

  “But no home births. Your sexy ass will be in a hospital where God intended babies to be born.”

  That makes her laugh, and the tears seem to slow down a bit. She says, “Lots of babies are born at home and . . .” I kiss her hard on the lips to shut her up and feel her smile underneath my kiss. “What am I saying?” she says. “I’m not. I can’t be.”

  “Only one way to find out,” I say.

  “Slade,” she whispers, her blue eyes begging me to drop this.

  *

  These days, you can have pretty much anything delivered to your home with just a few pushes of a button—takeout food, groceries, dry cleaning, or in this case, pregnancy tests. Paige was freaking out. I wasn’t about to leave her for one second, not even to run to the store.

  I don’t even want to know what the delivery person thought when they got the order for multiple pregnancy tests, all different brands. I didn’t know which one was best, so I got a variety.

  Five pregnancy test sticks line the back of my toilet. The fact that these things come in packs of two is a clear indicator that no one takes just one. We’re almost a half dozen in, and even though they all indicate the same result, we still can’t seem to believe it.

  “The line on that one doesn’t look very clear,” she says, pointing at number three.

  “The box said any line is a positive result,” I tell her.

  “The positive sign on that one looks more like an X. And an X would not be positive.”

  She’s really starting to confuse me now. I point at the last one she did. “This one actually says ‘pregnant.’”

  “I’m pregnant,” she says to herself as if she’s trying it on for size.

  “Looks like,” I say, although I’ve been convinced she was pregnant since she told me she was nauseated. I didn’t need her to pee on a stick to confirm it, but apparently, that is what she needed. I hold up one more package. “Still have one more left. Want to make it an even half dozen?”

  Her head shakes, and she repeats, “I’m pregnant.”

  I keep waiting to hear some excitement in her declaration, but she just sounds confused. “I would’ve thought you’d have some idea. You’ve been through this before. Do you not feel the same way as you did with Finn?”

  Her head shakes again.

  “Paige,” I say, taking her hands. “Everything will be . . .”

  “I had wine with dinner,” she says, squeezing my hands.

  “I’m sure one glass this early on is . . .”

  “I’ve been taking birth control pills.”

  “We’ll get you a doctor’s appointment, but I’m sure that happens all the time and won’t hurt anything.”

  “I didn’t eat anything green today,” she says, shaking her head at me.

  This time, I can’t help but chuckle. “Well, that does it. Our baby will be born with three heads.”

  Her lips purse together, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m being crazy.”

  “A little,” I say, hugging her.

  “Slade,” she says softly. “Could we not tell anyone for a few weeks? I want to see the doctor first, get through the first trimester.”

  “Sure,” I say. “Whatever you want.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  PAIGE

  “You are definitely pregnant,” the doctor says, washing his hands. He’s a pretty old guy, tall with a lanky build. It’s my first time seeing him. In the past, I’ve just gone to clinics, never had a regular doctor. He’s the doctor who delivered Theo, so I figured he was reputable, and I was relieved to be able to get an appointment with him so quickly.

  I just smile. What else can I do? “We can do an ultrasound today or in a couple of days if you’d like to wait on the baby’s father or . . .”

  “He’s out of town working,” I lie. Now I even lie to my OB/GYN. Slade’s not out of town. He’s at the ranch with Finn. He doesn’t even know I’m here. He thinks my appointment is tomorrow. I truly am a terrible person for keeping him from this moment. I know he’s going to have to meet my doctor at some point, and I can’t ask my doctor to lie. My lies are catching up with me.

  At least I was honest on my medical history forms. That’s something.

  This past week, Slade has been so excited that we found out I’m pregnant. A part of me is, too. I love the idea of carrying his child, but I don’t love the idea of him finding out the truth about me.

  My phone rings in my purse. “That’s probably him now,” the doctor says.

  Picking up the phone, the doctor gives me a little wave as he leaves. “Just let the nurse know about the ultrasound.”

  I answer the phone. “You’re never going to believe what Finn just said,” Slade says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Where are you?” he asks. “The connection is bad.”

  “The doctor’s office,” I say, feeling my stomach lurch. “They called me with a last-minute opening, so I took it.”

  “But that’s supposed to be tomorrow,” he says.

  “They asked if I wanted to come today, so I . . .”

  “I’m on my way,” he says. And my heart breaks. He’s at least an hour away. There’s no way he’d make it, but he’d try like hell to get to me, just like he did the night of the tornado.

  “Slade, it’s fine,” I say, feeling like the shittiest person on the planet, now wanting to flog myself for this. “I’m just about done.”

  “I missed it?” he asks, his voice confused.

  “They didn’t do much,” I say, a few tears rolling down my cheeks. “Have to come back for blood work and . . .”

  “Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, and I can hear the anger rising in his voice.

  “I knew you were busy.”

  “Did they do an ultrasound?” he asks.

  My eyes close. “I was just about to schedule it.”

  “I’ll see you at home later,” he says, hanging up.

  *

  To say he’s cold when I get home is an understatement, and he has every right to be. I did a horrible thing. I didn’t do it to hurt him. I did it to protect myself, my secrets, everything we are trying to build now. But that doesn’t make it any better.

  Finn is down for the night, and Slade’s in his office, avoiding me. It’s been this way for a few hours, and I can’t stand it any longer. I need to apologize to him. Lightly, I knock on his office door. When he doesn’t bother to respond, I open it up slightly. He doesn’t even look up at me. I walk over.

  “I’m really sorry.”

  “I’m trying really hard to understand why you wouldn’t call and tell me about the appointment change,” he says, his voice with an angry edge that I’ve never heard from him before. Sure, he can be an asshole, but it’s never been like this.

  “It was last minute. You were busy, and they weren’t doing anything important. Just basically confirming the pregnancy. I’m sorry.”

  He still won’t look at me, and he doesn’t even bother to reply. I don’t want to cry in front of him, so I head for the door.

  “Did you hear the heartbeat?” he asks.

  Turning back, I say, “No, it’s too early. But we’l
l be able to see it on the ultrasound.”

  “You going to tell me when that appointment is?” he snaps.

  With tears rushing down my cheeks, I quickly turn, heading toward the staircase. I deserve for him to be mad at me, but I don’t have to like it. I hear him mumble a curse word behind me. I don’t make it to the stairs before his arms slide around my waist.

  His mouth lowers to my ear, his warm breath giving me goose bumps. “You aren’t alone this time,” he growls. “Stop acting like you are.”

  “But . . .”

  “This is when you rely on me, on my love for you,” he says, lowering his hands to my stomach. “On my love for our child.”

  Placing my hands on top of his, I whisper, “You won’t miss another appointment because of me.” But I have no idea how I’m going to keep that promise.

  *

  I watch Slade holding baby Theo. I’ve seen him hold Finn lots of times, but never when Finn was that small. Slade’s a big man, and seeing him with such a tiny little person makes me excited to see him holding our newborn.

  I’m carrying Slade’s child. A tear rolls down my cheek. Of course, I’m happy, but this complicates things even more. I’m in a mess, a mess of my own making, and if I’m not careful, I could drag Slade down with me. I don’t see a way out, and I can’t just leave, not now, not while I’m carrying his child. I would never do that to him. He looks over at me, giving me a little wink as someone takes a picture of him with his godson.

  The christening service was pretty small with just family and some close friends, but it was absolutely lovely. It was held in a small church not far from where Jon and Catrine live. They were beaming the whole time, and little Theo didn’t cry once, not even when the priest drizzled the water on his head. Slade looked incredibly handsome holding Theo on the altar, promising to guide him and be there for him. I sat toward the back in case I needed to make a quick escape with Finn. He obviously doesn’t understand the significance of the moment or that he needed to be quiet through it. I held him the whole time, trying to keep him occupied.