His Wonder Baby: A Miracle Baby Romance

by B. B. Hamel

I nod and leave the store without looking back.

  Ten minutes later, alone in my truck, I know I just fucked up.

  That job wasn’t great, but it was my first real job. I quit it on a whim, basically throwing a tantrum like a little baby. “Fuck,” I say, hitting the steering wheel. “Fucking fuck.”

  I sigh and lean back. I should’ve just sucked it up, dealt with my asshole boss, and made some more money. I have a decent stash still saved away, and I know I could get my own place, but I wanted to make sure I’d be totally comfortable financially before making that step. Now I don’t know how I’m going to prove to Addie that I’ve changed, especially considering I just acted like an immature cock.

  “Fucking fuck,” I say again, sighing this time. I drive back to my father’s house, dreading this part.

  I park the truck and head inside. My father’s in the family room, drinking some whisky and watching a basketball game. He grunts a hello when I walk by, which is more than I usually get. I head upstairs to change before giving him the bad news.

  I know what he’ll say. I’m ready to hear it. He’ll flip out, tell me I’m a failure and a loser, and I’ll take it. I deserve it, honestly. I acted like a loser. I’ll get my shit together after I take some more verbal abuse from my father, I guess as my own punishment to myself.

  I take a deep breath and let it out. I grab my phone and text Addie before facing the music. “I just quit my job.”

  She doesn’t answer right away, so I toss my phone onto my bed and walk downstairs slowly.

  My father looks up as I approach. “Just the man I wanted to see,” he says, standing. He’s got a smile on his face, which I guess means he hasn’t heard about what happened yet.

  “Hey, I need to talk to you,” I say.

  “Actually, I need to talk to you, first.” He walks into the kitchen glass in hand and I follow him. I sit on a stool in front of the counter as he pours himself another drink and fills up a glass for me, shoving it across the granite with a raised eyebrow.

  I take it, not sure what to say. He’s never offered me a drink before, let alone smiled at me like this. It’s like living in an alternate reality.

  “Look, I heard you were doing good at work,” he says to me. “I know I’ve given you shit, and you deserved it, but I’m happy you’re finally getting it together.”

  I cringe and shake my head. “Dad, listen.”

  “No, listen to me. I want you to keep working hard, keep learning the business. One day, I won’t be around, you know? Someone has to take over the company. I want that person to be you, if you’re interested.”

  “Dad,” I say, shaking my head, unable to meet his gaze.

  “What?” His tone’s starting to shift. “I just made you a big offer, and you just say ‘dad’ like it’s nothing?”

  “I quit today.”

  He stares at me silently. His fingers are turning white around the glass.

  “You did what?” he asks finally.

  “I quit.” I shake my head. “It was stupid, but I quit.”

  “Why the fuck would you do that?”

  I cringe a little bit. “It just wasn’t a good fit.”

  “Not a good fit?” He stares at me and spits out a laugh. “You ungrateful fucking cunt. You pathetic little failure. I was almost proud of you for once, but that was a stupid fucking mistake.” He throws back his drink violently.

  “I get it. I shouldn’t have quit, but it happened.”

  “You’re going back and begging Tim to rehire you,” he says icily.

  “No,” I answer, surprising myself.

  “What?”

  “No,” I say again. “I’m not working there. I’m sorry dad. I know you liked having me working for your company, but it’s just not for me.”

  “You asshole,” he growls. He throws his glass onto the ground, smashing it. “You little piece of shit.” He’s turning red, practically shaking with rage.

  I stand up and back away from him. “I’m sorry, dad. I’ll find a new job.”

  “And a new place to live.”

  I stop moving. “What?”

  “Get the fuck out. Do you hear me? Get the fuck out of my house, you ungrateful little prick. You want to go back and play hockey? You pathetic loser? Go play hockey. Go do it somewhere else. Go back to Russia, you little cocksucker.”

  I keep backing away from him. I’ve seen him angry, I’ve seen him rage, but never like this. He’s about to hit me, I can see it in his eyes. He wants to do it so badly. The only thing stopping him is the fact that I’m bigger, younger, and stronger, and he’s half drunk. I could knock him out easily.

  “Get the fuck out,” he screams at me.

  I take a breath, steadying myself. “I’ll be gone in an hour.”

  “Fuck off, you cunt.”

  I turn away from him and head upstairs.

  As I pack, I feel liberated. It’s strange, but I’m ready. I have nowhere to go, no job or any prospects, but it doesn’t matter. I have money, I have a truck, and I have a future. That’s all that matters. I should never have come back to my father’s house. That was my biggest mistake.

  When I finish gathering up my stuff, I finally grab my phone. There ar ea few missed calls from Addie and three texts.

  Will, what happened?

  Are u okay?

  Will? Are u ok? Is it your dad?

  I text her back.

  I’m fine. He kicked me out, but it’s for the best. I’ll call you later.

  I hit send, slip my phone into my pocket, toss my duffel over my shoulder, and head downstairs. My father’s back in his chair now, calmed and with a new drink. Shards of glass still glitter on the kitchen floor, whisky floating around them like a lake.

  “I’m leaving,” I say.

  “Good,” he says. He slowly looks at me. “And don’t come back.”

  I hesitate before nodding. “Bye, dad.”

  He doesn’t answer. He just turns to the TV. I smile to myself, walk outside, toss my duffel into the bed, and climb into the cab. I start the engine and drive off, finally fucking free, after all these years.

  17

  Addie

  “Look at you,” I say, grinning at him. “All grown up.”

  He almost looks bashful. “Yeah, well, whatever. Come on in.”

  Will opens the door to his new apartment and I walk inside. It’s pretty sparsely furnished, and there’s nothing on the clean white walls, but it’s all his. There’s a TV, there’s a couch, there’s a coffee table, and I assume there’s a bed. That’s probably all he needs right now.

  “Your very own apartment,” I say to him.

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve had my own place, you know,” he says.

  “It’s the first time you’ve lived alone,” I point out.

  He grins. “That’s true. It’s a little lonely.”

  “Oh yeah?” I smirk. “Is that why you invited me over?”

  He laughs and walks into the kitchen. “Caught me. And here I was thinking this would be my housewarming party.”

  I walk over and sit at the counter as he brings out two glasses and a bottle of wine. “Pretty sad party, if you ask me.”

  “Turns out I don’t have a ton of friends in Weston, who knew?” He shrugs and pours two drinks. “I just invited the only person who matters, anyway.”

  I roll my eyes but accept the drink with a smile. “Don’t be so sappy.”

  “Don’t be so cute.”

  I groan and sip the wine. He laughs and takes a nice long drink. There’s this strange tension between us, but I don’t know what it is.

  I think because this is the first time we’ve been alone since the night we slept together. We’ve been texting a bunch and talking on the phone, and I saw him briefly the night he got kicked out of his dad’s house. He stopped over just to let me know that I was okay, but Eleanor was there, so we couldn’t really talk much.

  Things moved fast after that. He got a hotel room for a few nights and foun
d this apartment pretty fast, which is either lucky, or there’s just not a huge thriving apartment culture n Weston. I assume it’s a little bit of both. I’ve been busy with work and Cara and didn’t get to visit him at the hotel, which is probably for the best.

  I know what he wanted to do. I know what I wanted to do. And I know what I still want.

  He leans against the refrigerator, wine glass rolling in one hand. “Want the tour?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  I slip in behind him as he walks toward the family room. “This is where I watch hockey,” he says, gesturing at the old, brown couch. “This little beauty is the finest trash picked couch in all of Weston.”

  I make a face. “Trash?”

  “Some rich guy was just putting it on the curb when I was driving by.” He laughs and pats it again. “I mean, look at it, perfect condition.”

  “I’m not sitting on that.” I stare at him.

  “More for me!” He laughs and moves on toward the hall. “Here’s the bathroom, where the magic happens, you know.” He gestures into a small full bath.

  “Lovely,” I say.

  “And here’s where the real action occurs.” He pushes open his bedroom door. “Voila. The bedroom.”

  I follow him in and laugh a little. It’s pretty much empty except for a queen bed, a single nightstand, and his duffel bag of clothes on the floor.

  “Obviously I need more furniture,” he says. “I’m just happy I have a place.”

  “Do you want help with that?” I ask him, going over to sit on the bed. “I can decorate for you.”

  “Oh yeah? You’ll be my interior designer?”

  “Sure,” I say, leaning back, wine glass balanced on my stomach. “I’ll make this place real nice.”

  “I’m sure you will.” I feel him leaning over me. He takes my glass away and I hear him set it down on the nightstand.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, smiling.

  “Nothing.” He starts to unbutton my jeans.

  “Will. That looks like something.”

  “Does it?” He cocks his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He finishes unbuttoning them and starts to pull them off.

  I lift my hips and let him. He slides them off and tosses them onto the ground.

  “Something different about you,” he muses.

  “Yeah, I have no pants on.”

  “That’s it. I like it.”

  “I bet you do.”

  He pulls me to the edge of the bed and I wrap my legs around his waist. He grabs my hair, tipping my chin up toward him.

  “Do you still have bruises?” he asks softly.

  I shake my head. “The handprint was the last to go.”

  “Damn.” He kisses me softly. “I think we can fix that.”

  I fall into him again, even though I shouldn’t. Before I realize it, my shirts off, and his hands are all over my body. My bra follows, and my clothes are on a pile on the floor as he pushes me back onto the bed, my hair spilling around me.

  He pulls his shirt off, revealing his tanned and muscular chest. I reach out to touch him as he spreads my legs and climbs on top of me, his body pressing me down. He kisses every inch of my skin, lips to neck to breasts to hips. It feels so good and I’m losing myself with desire again, unable to step away from this moment.

  “It’s been too long,” he says.

  “It’s been a week.”

  “Way too long.” He pulls my panties off and I laugh. I roll over, pushing him down and straddling him. He reaches down between my legs and teases my pussy as I bend over, kissing him and letting his fingers roam my clit. I wiggle my ass as he slides his fingers inside of me.

  I move down him and tug his boxer briefs off. He’s rock hard already and I take him into my mouth, rolling my tongue along his skin. He groans as I suck him, taking him into my throat and back. He lets me do all the work, which I love. I lose myself a little, getting sloppy, sucking his cock and making him groan.

  He pulls my head back by the hair and he rolls me onto my back. I stare up at him as he roughly pins my hands above my head and spreads my legs wide. There’s a fire in his eyes again as he presses his cock against my pussy and slowly thrusts deep inside.

  I groan, chin tipped up. “That never gets old,” I say.

  “It better not.” He puts his hand on my throat, my hands pinned above my head. He starts to fuck me like that, slow at first, but getting aster, rougher. I work my hips and ride him, getting into the rhythm of it. I love how he dominates me, controls me. Keeps me pinned in place.

  He pulls back and rolls me onto my stomach. He spreads my ass and licks me top to bottom before fucking me again. I have to bite down onto a pillow to stop from screaming his name out over and over. He rocks deeper and deeper and slaps my ass hard enough to leave a bruise, with only pushes me ever higher.

  He turns me over again, pinning my wrists. “I want to see your face while you come,” he whispers, which drives me crazy. He fucks me faster, deeper, and I know I’m not far. Sweat’s on my body now, and his hard muscles drive me wild.

  The orgasm rips through me not long later. He’s fucking me like an animal, pinning me down, licking and kissing my breasts and lips. I come hard, my legs spread wide, but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t make me suck him off.

  He comes inside of me. Thick, heavy spurts, and I love it. I love the feeling of him, filling me up. I moan his name and roll my hips, helping him along, and he groans.

  He collapses onto the bed beside me, pulling me tight against him. He kisses my shoulder, breathing the smell of my hair deep.

  “That’s the best housewarming present I think I’ve ever gotten,” he says.

  I laugh and slap him a little. “Don’t be a pig.”

  He grins. “You like it. And I expect to get another present soon.”

  “How soon?” I ask, staring into his eyes, and his grin gives me all the answer I need.

  This is probably a mistake. There’s a voice in the back of my mind telling me to stop. The last time I ended up in bed with Will, I had a baby and got my heart broken. We’re just becoming close again, I shouldn’t screw this up with sex.

  But he’s so handsome, and his hands are all over my body, and I know I’m saying yes.

  18

  Will

  I’m still buzzing with Addie even a few days later. I can taste her, smell her on my sheets, and I wish she were still here. I wish we could put aside the past, ignore it at least for a little while, and just have something good.

  Instead, we ran away the next day, as soon as the sun came up. I haven’t seen her since, although we’re still texting. I know she’s busy with Cara and work, and now she’s even thinking about her own place, which is awesome.

  I just want her here, at all time, with me. I want her spread, naked, begging, laughing, moaning. I know if she wants that too, but something’s still holding her back.

  I’m lounging on my trash picked couch, looking at furniture on my phone and wondering how long my bank account’s going to last without a job, when there’s a knock at my door. I hesitate a second, because I don’t even know if anyone knows I live here, but I decide to answer it anyway.

  My dad’s leaning again the wall across the hall, arms crossed over his chest. He smiles and stands up straight when I cock my head at him.

  “Hey son,” he says.

  I frown a little bit. He never calls me that. “How’d you know I was here?”

  He flinches a little bit. “Not gonna ask me in?”

  “No, I’m not,” I say. “How’d you know.”

  “Guy who owns the building is a friend. He gave me a call when he saw your name on the lease.”

  Fucking hell, of course. My dad’s friends with every rich guy in this damn town, since he’s been spending his life selling them useless pills.

  I glare at him for a second but he sighs. “Just invite me in, I only want to talk.”

  “Fine,” I grunt, stepping aside. “Make it fast, though.”<
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  He walks in and glances around. “Looks good,” he says.

  “Liar.” I shut the door and follow him to the kitchen. “What can I do for you?”

  He turns to me. “Look, I came to apologize, okay? I lost it the other night. That wasn’t my best.”

  I laugh a little bitterly. “You’re apologizing?”

  “Trying to,” he snaps. “You’re not making it easy.”

  “It’s just funny dad, that’s all. You’ve been doing this shit my whole life without a comment, and now you’re apologizing?”

  He glares at me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You don’t?” I laugh again, shaking my head. “Then I guess I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “Look, I came here because I want you to come back to work.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Did Tim approve this?”

  He waves his hand. “Tim’s no longer with the company.”

  I sigh. “Did you fire him because of me?”

  “No, but that didn’t help,” he says. “Turns out, Tim was skimming from the drawer.”

  I whistle and shake my head. “Naught boy, that Tim.”

  “He’s gone now. Please, Will, just come back. I want you involved with my company.”

  For a second, I can see him as the father I’ve always wanted. Kind, supportive, helpful, gentle. The sort of man that could teach me to change a tire and to be strong.

  But I know that father doesn’t exist, not for me at least. The only thing’s my dad ever taught me were how to drink bourbon and how to sell pills. He’s a low-life, even if he’s a low-life with money, and if I go back to him that’s all I’ll ever be.

  “I can’t,” I say. ‘I’m sorry.”

  His face gets cloudy. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I walk to the door. “You should go.”

  “You’re making a mistake.” He clenches his hands into fists. “I’m here apologizing, damn it.”

  “Too little too late,” I say softly. “Now please, get out of my apartment, and don’t come back.”

  He walks over to the door, fuming, eyes wide like a scared deer. He pauses in the doorway and looks at me. “You’ll never amount to anything,” he says.