Trouble With the Curve (Learning Curve #2)

by Felicia Lynn

  “What in the world is this for, buttercup?” I’m not sure if I should open it now without her. It feels wrong, but I’m so desperate for any clue that I can’t help myself. I open the notecard with the hearts on the front she decorated. Inside, it reads:

  Roses are Red,

  Violets are Blue,

  I have a secret,

  and here’s your clue.

  ~Your Charlie

  L+u

  Confused is an understatement, but I pull a chair back and plop down on it. God, why the hell did I have to be such a dick last night? I want her to be here sitting on my lap while I learn what she’s been up to with her surprise. Before I pull the tissue out of the bag, I have a sneaking suspicion it’s probably naughty lingerie. If it is, I’m probably going to ruin her plans because I want her naked.

  I set the tissue aside and pull the shirt out of the bag and laugh at the miniature replica of my jersey. It looks sized to fit Charlie’s teddy bear I won for her on our first date at the fair. I’ve tried to replace the ridiculously cheap excuse for a real stuffed animal, but my girl won’t have it. I’m not sure what her plans are for this replica jersey, but I’m sure she has one. I turn it over to see the back, and that’s when the world stops. STONE across the back in bold letters just like mine, but where my number would normally be, it says: Lil’ responsibility #1

  What. The. Fuck.

  This can’t mean what I think it might. Shit. I look around the space, wondering if she’s going to pop out now that the surprise is revealed. She doesn’t. I stand, grabbing the jersey, then notice the cookie box. I open it. What if there’s another clue? It’s a chocolate chip cookie cake from that place in the mall she loves. Written on top, I see “The butterflies you give me turned into little feet. Congrats Daddy!”

  I smile because how can I not? My girl is gonna have my baby! Now, I gotta find her. I need to get her to the courthouse right fucking now. She can have her wedding, I won’t ever deprive her of that, but there’s no fucking way she’s going to have my baby in her belly any longer and not also have my last name.

  “My girl with my baby. WOW. I’ll fix everything, buttercup. I’m coming for ya,” I say aloud proudly, pulling my keys from my pocket. Clutching the tiny jersey in my other hand, I walk out the front door and around to my truck. It’s getting dark, but even with the challenge darkness presents when you're looking for something, I don’t care. I’ll find her. I’ll find them. And when I do, I’m going to love her in ways she’s never been loved. For the rest of my life.

  But something catches my attention in the corner of my eye before I put the truck in reverse, and when I see it, everything starts moving in slow motion.

  I PULL ONTO OUR street after spending the entire day town browsing antique markets in the small towns surrounding the city. I think separating myself from reality and all connections to it really helped. I’m more sure now than ever. Ty and I have to find a way to work this out, to find a balance. We deserve the happy ending we’ve fought for. No one is capable of loving me the way only he can, and no matter what he says, I know he loves me. And he’ll love our lil’ responsibility too.

  When I turn the corner and see his truck in the drive, my heart races. Emotions battle within me, half of me anxious, concerned, and fearful while the other half is eager, excited, and feeling love. What is he even doing here? My God, what if he came to get his stuff? No, too soon. He wouldn’t. But . . . I’m so confused.

  Well, it’s now or never. Here’s my chance to tell him. I get out of the car and slowly stroll across the yard. He’s sitting in his truck watching me, but he’s not moving. I stop in the middle of our small front yard, not sure if I should just go inside and wait for him or run to him and give in to my need to be close to him. I don’t do either. Looking up at him, I nervously wave. Real mature. What is wrong with me?

  Something happens, though. The shocked expression on his face as he was watching me before is replaced by a look I like a whole lot better. He jumps out of the truck and sprints across the yard to me.

  I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a bigger smile on his face, and I’m not really sure why. His firm mouth curves like he was the on the edge of laughter and sheer joy. Cupping my cheeks in both his hands, he moves until our eyes lock. “Ty, you’re here.” He laughs, pulling me into his chest in the most comforting embrace I could’ve asked for.

  “Funny thing, buttercup. Seems we’ve been here before with that same question. Only this time, I’ve been waiting for you.” Pulling back to look at him again, his lips brush across mine ever so softly. I melt.

  Now, it’s my turn, so my hands go to either side of his face as I stare up into my eyes. "You came back,” I say, holding him tightly. “I thought it was over. You said it was too much. You gave up. What changed your mind?” He looks surprised by my statement, and I briefly wonder if it was all a bad dream, but I never went back to sleep after our talk last night. It wasn’t a dream. I heard it.

  “Charlotte, are you telling me you thought I ended things with you last night? You think I chose baseball?” he questions, pausing for a response from me.

  I look away timidly and shrug my shoulders. With gentle fingers, he guides my face back to look in my eyes. I give him what I know he's waiting for. I nod.

  In a whisper, he groans. “Shit.” Tugging me to him, he wraps his arms around me and speaks in a low tone above my ear. “I’m sorry, Charlie. That conversation didn’t go well. Nothing came out the way it should have. I fucked up. Bad. You’re my dream, buttercup. Baseball is just what I do. It’s my job, but I was ready to give that up. I love you, and I felt like we were a million miles from each other. It was a weak moment, but it was never, ever about you. You’d have to bury me to let you go, Charlotte.”

  I step back enough to look up at him. “You mean we’re not through? You still want a life with me?” I question.

  “Until I take my last breath, beautiful. Together. Failure isn’t an option.” He drops to his knees in the front yard, and his lips go to my flat belly. When I look down, I finally realize the baby jersey is tucked in his front pocket. Our lil’ responsibility isn’t a secret anymore.

  I smile, looking down at him through the clouded vision of my tears. He lifts my shirt just enough to see my stomach. “Hi munchkin, I’m your daddy. I’m new to this, but I trust you to show me the ropes.” His soft lips feather across my stomach with little kisses.

  After he’s satisfied with his introduction to our baby, he scoops me up and carries me into the house and directly up the stairs to our bedroom.

  TOGETHER, AS WE LIE in our bed after reconnecting in the best way possible, my girl lays on my chest, trailing patterns across my naked skin.

  “Charlie, I want to go to the courthouse tomorrow. I can’t wait anymore, babe.” She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t agree either.

  “What happened to the front door?” she asks, completely changing the subject. I laugh at her but pinch her sweet ass cheek gently in retaliation.

  “Jaime did that. Not my fault. He’s probably going to kill me tomorrow. We should get married before that happens. Let’s go to the courthouse in the morning.” I try again.

  “You’re crazy, Stone. And Jaime isn’t killing you. No one will. I’ll protect you, hotshot. Don’t worry.” She giggles.

  “Charlie, I’m serious. Marry me tomorrow. You’re having my baby. I need you to have my last name. Yesterday. I promise you can still have the wedding of your dreams. This is just for us. Please, buttercup.”

  “Ty, we can’t just go to the courthouse and get married. We have to make arrangements. It’s not that easy,” she says, still laughing at me. She thinks I’m joking, but I’ve never been more serious.

  “What arrangements? Tell me. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Ty, you just signed a multi-million dollar contract. You need a prenup. And I don’t have a wedding dress. Plus, don’t you want our family there?”

  I inch myself from underneath her and
get off the bed and go to the armoire. I pull open the top drawer where I keep the important shit I never use or need. I find what I’m looking for and work fast.

  “What are you doing, Ty?” she asks. I don’t answer right away. She’ll find out in a second.

  After I finish that, I pull my phone off the charger and dial the number. Scott answers on the first ring. “Hey, man. How are ya? Did you make it home?” he asks. I don’t have time for small talk, so I quickly rush to ask the favor while Charlie lays on the bed watching me and listening in surprise.

  “Hey, man. Yeah, I’m home. Things are great. My fiancée is the most incredible woman in the world so it should be no surprise. But listen, I don’t have a lot of time, and I was hoping to ask for a favor, as a friend. This is way out of your job description, but I’d be grateful for your help.”

  “Of course, Ty. Tell me what I can do.”

  So I tell him what I want to do and when. He agrees to make some calls and get things sorted out, letting me know he’ll text me the details in an hour.

  “Good, man. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Thanks, Scott.”

  We disconnect, and I move back to Charlie on the bed, ignoring her questioning stare. I know she thinks I’m crazy, and I am. Crazy in love with her.

  I hand her the piece of paper, and she looks at it with confusion. “What is this? What are you doing, Ty?”

  “It’s a check, buttercup. You’re smart. You know that,” I say, stating the obvious.

  “For six million, five hundred and ten thousand, and eight hundred dollars. To me? Why? Are you trying to pay me as a bribe to marry you tomorrow?”

  I can’t help but laugh at that. “Buttercup, if it were that easy, I’d have done it months ago. No, if I have nothing, then there’s no need for a prenup. Babe, it’s just money. I don’t even care about that. I just want you. Marry me tomorrow. You want family there? I’ll call them all. You need a dress? I’ll order one of everything in your size from one of those bride chick glamour stores and have them delivered at the crack of dawn. Just tell me what it’s going to take so I can get working on it.”

  “Ty, just because we’re having a baby doesn’t mean we have to get married. I’ll never leave you.”

  “Buttercup, this isn’t about our lil’ responsibility growing inside you. This is about you and me. I need this. We need this. Is it family that you want there? The Taylors? Your dad? Just tell me.” I see the resolve unraveling, and I know I’m close to the answer I want.

  “If we do this, can I move to Georgia with you? I registered for online classes. I can work on those from anywhere. I want to be closer to you. Even if you travel a lot, it’ll still be better to miss you for a few days than for weeks at a time. And no family. This would be just for us. I’m not ready to open that door to my father yet. I know it’s selfish, but I just need time.”

  “Buttercup, it’s okay. Don’t feel bad about that. He’ll understand. But Charlotte, are those your conditions to accept? That’s your final counter offer? I just want to be sure I understand clearly. You’ll marry me if I pack our stuff and move us to Georgia? Together. You’d want that even knowing there’s a chance it’s not permanent?” I ask.

  She nods. I launch myself on the bed next to her, careful not to land on her and hurt her.

  “Fucking accepted. Let's kiss on it.” Linking our lips, we kiss with fevered hunger. She owns me. Body and soul. My everything.

  At that moment, we launch into a new adventure in life, and nothing is sweeter. I can’t wait to reap the rewards of our next learning curve.

  (2 months later)

  THE REHEARSAL DINNER FOR our actual wedding ceremony is tomorrow, and even though we’re already legally tied to one another, there’s significance in sharing and celebrating our marriage with those we love. To say we’ve rushed to plan this event is an understatement, but it was either now or we’d have to wait until after the baseball season. If the Braves are in the playoff run, Ty will be called up for the expanded roster. The playoff schedule with games, practices, and training isn’t forgiving enough to allow time off to marry your bride. Depending on how far our team makes it, we could even be cutting the timing uncomfortably close to meeting our lil’ responsibility. So it’s now, and although exchanging vows on a Monday is a bit unorthodox, nothing with Tyler and I has ever been typical. No need to start now.

  It’s a small ceremony with less than fifty people in attendance, but everyone who matters will be there. That’s what counts.

  But my second favorite part is where the ceremony is taking place—next to our stargazing pond, in the clearing by the apple orchard. It just so happens that land is owned by one of the coaches of the USC baseball team, and they’ve graciously offered to let us use it for the ceremony. Tents with tables and chairs under them are being erected as we speak. Of course, the Taylor family has taken the reins on all the organizing of my plans since we now live in Atlanta full-time. I’d be lost without them.

  But there’s one lingering gray cloud. Twiddling with the letter in my hands, I’m confused.

  My dearest Charlotte,

  I know I haven’t earned the right to contact you after everything I’ve done, but I wanted to attempt to tell you the things you deserved to hear long ago. I know you may not read this prior to your big day, but I do hope you’ll read it at some point. Not for my benefit, but for yours.

  I’ve made so many mistakes over the years. I was consumed by greed and behaved irrationally. The image of perfection I was desperate to achieve outweighed all other priorities. What I didn’t realize until recently was the image of perfection didn’t offer any gratification when my real life was falling apart.

  I lost control, grasping for any opportunity to legitimize the façade I created, but in the process, I caused far more damage and hurt those I loved greatly. My actions are unforgivable; therefore, I won’t ask for your forgiveness. You’ve given more than anyone ever should already. The purpose of my letter today is to tell you some of the most important things I’ve kept from you or blatantly lied about for far too long.

  Charlotte, the day the doctors placed you in my arms, I knew immediately you were special. I loved you more than I ever thought a mother could. I know you’ve not heard that sentiment from me, and I regret that. Love is an emotion that requires the giver to show as much as tell. Unfortunately, I failed at both. I’m deeply sorry that you never realized how very much you were loved. I can only imagine how heartbreaking it must have been to believe you were unlovable to your parents.

  In spite of anything I’ve said, you have always been the most beautiful young lady in my eyes. There’s no excuse for me to have said otherwise. The respect you showed even when I mistreated you always surprised me. You were the epitome of ‘class’ that I wanted to be. You held your head up and stayed strong. I often relieved myself of the guilt I felt by telling myself you knew the truth in your heart. I’m not positive that’s true, but I certainly hope it is on some level.

  You’ve grown to be an incredible young woman all on your own with every obstacle in your way. I only wish I deserved to claim the title of your mother because you’d make any mother proud. And I am proud of the person you are. I’m proud of you, for you! You did it and continue to make a difference in lives.

  I carry my regrets with me daily. I’d spend the rest of my days apologizing if it would help you, but I know you don’t need me. You never have because I only inflicted pain. We’ve missed out on so much as a family because of my mistakes. If I could go back and change anything, it would be that. I miss you, Charlotte, and I always will.

  My door will always be open, should you need a friend. I promise, given the opportunity if the time ever comes, I will prove I’m capable of love.

  Congratulations on your wedding. Mr. Stone is a lucky man. I’ll be the first to buy all the magazine announcements. I know you’ll light up the room.

  All my love,

  Sandra Baker

  The letter mak
es my heart ache in ways it shouldn’t. What my mother has done over the years is unforgivable. I don’t want to feel sorry for her, yet I do. As a soon-to-be mother, I can’t imagine treating my child the way my mother has treated me. I’m already consumed with love for this child growing inside my tummy, and that love grows daily.

  The past is the past, and it’s made me who I am. I don’t regret the loss of what could’ve been. I fear those changes would’ve led me on a different path than the one that brought me to the love of my life. This life is worth every single one of those struggles, so in the end, I win.

  My father and I talk on occasion. However, I think it’s impossible to recreate history and build a tight family bond overnight. But we’re working on it. My mother and father separated for a short time while my mother sought inpatient help for her compulsive behaviors. It wasn’t public knowledge, but my father believed I deserved to know.

  After resuming normal life as we know it, my mother is a changed person. Or so my father has said. That door has been closed and bolt locked for me, and a place I’ve never been willing to visit. My parents have since reconnected.

  My father will attend the wedding festivities over the next couple of days without my mother, as it was one of the conditions made. I know they likely have a plan to make an untruthful excuse in the press for her absence once photos are released, and that’s fine. I haven’t actually cared that she would miss it . . . until now.

  “Charlie, what’s going on? Do you feel okay?” Tyler asks, walking into the bedroom of our hotel suite. We could have stayed with the Taylor family, but Ty insisted that we needed our own space to frolic.

  I nod. “Just reading this letter again.”

  He looks at me questioningly. “Wanna talk about it?”

  I shrug. “Do you think it was a mistake blacklisting her from the wedding? Her presence has no impact on my day, but it makes a world of difference for her and my father. I wouldn’t be sad if she weren’t there, but would it really hurt if she were?”