Pam and I were decked out in pajamas and having an old-fashioned slumber party. We had thought it’d be fun. More specifically, she was afraid I was going to go off the deep end if she weren’t up my ass constantly.
Five months along and I was an ornery bitch, but I wasn’t suicidal or crazy. Overall, I’d made the most of it. I hadn’t even cried much in recent days.
“Him?” she asked, knowing I’d know what she meant. I just nodded and continued to avoid the phone. “Gonna answer?” A quick glance at her shut her up.
Brant wasn’t taking things very well. Of course he didn’t know the important parts. I’d decided against Pam’s wishes to never tell him. It had been hard, but I knew it’d happen[S4].
I’d been very lucky to spend so long without showing. The doctors claimed it was good health that kept the weight off. The baby, I’d found out it was a girl, was doing just fine.
Not having a baby bump had allowed me to continue life as normal and not tell anyone. Even my job didn’t know. So I’d also never told Brant, and he’d never noticed, even as much time as we spent undressed.
Then it’d happened. I’d seen the small pooch of my tummy and I’d known. Life was about to change. I was going to have to do something.
Work was easy. I’d claimed some personal problems and worked out an arrangement to do my job from home. No one would ever know the difference.
Avoiding friends and family was going to be more difficult. I was accustomed to Sunday dinners and holidays. No one would understand why I just quit attending. At the same time, momma would know that I was pregnant. She knew everything, especially those things I didn’t want her to know.
By far though, the hardest had been Brant. When I’d called and told him I thought we should stop, he didn’t take it very well. The SEAL in him showed first. Anger. Yelling. Accusing me of a variety of misdoings. Calling me names even slipped in there a little[S5].
Once he calmed, he tried to negotiate. I shared my excuses: it was not a good thing, and he needed to try and fix his marriage. I didn’t buy them, so I wasn’t surprised he didn’t. That’s when he decided he just wasn’t going to allow it.
“No, just no,” he’d told me. I loved that about him. His persistence.
But I knew I had to let go, so I’d just quit answering. I didn’t respond to texts. I didn’t keep flowers and gifts he sent. I didn’t answer the door. I just quit.
Unfortunately, he was more stubborn than I’d thought. He called and texted daily. Begging. Pleading. Swearing vows of love. I ignored them, and then cried.
“One day he’s going to stop,” Pam pointed out.
“Good,” I answered.
“That’s what you want?” she asked. “You have a man who loves you enough to put that much effort in -- the father of your baby -- and you want him to give up?”
“He has a wife,” I reminded her.
“You knew that,” she spoke. “You didn’t care then.”
“I care now,” I added. “They don’t even have a baby. Maybe he never wanted kids?”
“Maybe he never wanted the wife?” she added.
“Look how the tables have turned,” I said, incredulous. Looking at her, I waited on her explanation.
“That ship sailed,” she shook her head. “You made that decision. Now you are here with a baby on the way and a father that wants you. Don’t change your direction now!”
“I have made my decision,” I said, and dropped it.
Twenty minutes later, the phone began to ring again. I watched Pam as she looked at it, hopeful I’d answer. Just as I was thinking that she wasn’t going to give up, I watched her hand reach out and grab it.
“What are you…”
“Hello?” she answered before I could finish. “No. This is Pam. We met at the party, remember?”
I listened to her laugh as my heart began to pound. How could a friend do this?
“Well, she’s kind of stubborn, Brant,” she laughed again. “But I think you guys really need to talk. There are some things you aren’t aware of.”
“Pam,” I hissed, begging her to stop.
“We are here now. Just having a girl’s night. Why don’t you come over?” she smiled at me. “Sounds great. See you in a few.”
As she pushed the button I felt my pulse rise to what had to be dangerous levels. He was coming to my house. Face to face. I was sitting here stuffing food in my face while wearing pajamas and obviously pregnant.
“It doesn’t show that much,” Pam told me, knowing what I was thinking.
“It shows,” I said. “He’s seen every inch of my body. It shows.”
“Well, get ready then. He was just down the street.”
“I hate you,” I told my friend.
Running to the mirror in the hallway, I did a quick of check of myself. Fortunately my hair was done and looked nice. The lack of makeup wasn’t unusual. I often went natural as I didn’t want to ruin my smooth caramel complexion. There was a glow on my face that would be new to him. Otherwise, for a pregnant woman who’d spent three hours munching, I looked okay.
She was right. The bump wasn’t big. But it was noticeable.
“I’m going to run out and grab a pizza,” I heard Pam say. “She’s down the hall and will be out soon.”
“Thank you,” Brant spoke softly and earnestly.
Taking a deep breath I knew I had to face this. There was no getting out of it now. Damn Pam and her stubbornness.
“Brant,” I said, barely audible, as I walked into the room.
The electricity shot through me all over again as he turned and focused his blue eyes on my face, his own turning up into a smile.
“Tanya,” he whispered, “you look…”
I saw the realization hit his face as he scanned my pajama-clad body. His face contorted and I could no longer tell what he felt. His eyes lit up for a moment and then darkened. I stood frozen, curious and scared at what he would say.
“Pregnant.” The word came out as air -- almost indiscernible. “Oh my God,” he continued. “You are pregnant.”
*****
I hated life. I really did.
Every day I woke up more pregnant, fatter, and more miserable than the day before. I was at about six and a half months and the doctors said that everything was going great. Tell that to my aching back, sore feet and inability to sleep more than an hour.
It didn’t help that my life was in turmoil.
The conversation with Brant hadn’t been anything that I’d expected. He had been angry, royally pissed off that I’d kept it from him, unable to believe I’d think he didn’t deserve to know his own child.
He spent most of the time he’d been there telling me how he thought I was different than that. He thought I knew how he felt.
It had almost killed me to watch him leave still angry. All he’d told me was he needed to sort some things out in his life. Of course he did. I’d just turned it upside down.
Our relationship had changed. We still saw each other. Still communicated. But he hadn’t touched me or anything else since he’d found out.
I attributed it to the fact that I was beginning to look like a damned beached whale. He swore it was because he was confused and still hurt by me shutting him out. I was pretty sure I was right.
We were still very close, but time was dwindling. In less than three months he’d have a little girl, one he kept saying he wanted to be a part of his life. He was going to have to tell someone. Do something.
That left me unsure and waiting. I still loved him. I still hadn’t told my family. I was claiming work and sickness. Soon I’d have to tell them. Soon I’d have to deal with the fallout.
I spent most of my time trying to figure out how to do just that. The rest I spent worrying I’d lost Brant forever.
I was glad when my phone rang and I was able to take my mind off of my thoughts for a while. Then I realized it was him, and I worried about whether it’d be the day he was going to drop the bomb that he wa
s done.
“I’m coming by,” he said quickly, without waiting to be told no. “I need to talk to you.”
With that, he hung up. No chance for me to argue or change his mind.
I quickly scrambled around to pick up the mess that had accrued because I was lazy. I didn’t want to have to explain how very tired I was. My body didn’t seem to be cut out to carry a child.
The knock at the door made my heart race, and a giant lump formed in my throat.
“You look good,” he commented with a kiss on the cheek. It was more affection than I’d gotten in a long time.
“You seem to be uncharacteristically happy,” I noted, moving to let him inside.
“I am,” he smiled. “I’m getting divorced.”
“What? You are?” I couldn’t contain my excitement. “You asked for…”
“No,” he shook his head. “I was discussing it with my attorney. How to do it without the spectacle, you know?”
“Right,” I waited.
“Well, apparently Hadley was unhappy with me investing so much of our money into the organization I’m starting. She wanted a return for the money and I just wanted to help people. We’ve been arguing about it for some time now. Today she served me with papers,” he laughed. “Ironic, huh?”
“So, you are getting divorced over money?” I asked, not understanding how this had happened.
“Yes,” he laughed. “Rich people, right?”
“She doesn’t know about me? Or the baby?” I felt myself disappointed that I hadn’t been the reason he’d ended his marriage.
“She does now. I told her. We had a long talk about our differences and the fact that I still cared for her, but not love like that. She agreed. Neither of us wants this splashed on the front page, so we came to a pretty good agreement.”
“Financial?”
“For the most part. We are parting as friends. Claiming irreconcilable differences. We want different things. She’s interested in some Brit she knows. We figure if we go public at the same time with the same story, no one will really have anything to say.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t believe all that I was hearing.
“It’s going to be odd though,” he continued, “jumping back in so fast. That might make the news.”
“What? Jumping in?”
“Marriage. I mean assuming that you want to? I’ve never asked if your goal was marriage someday. Or kids for that matter. It’s one thing we’ve never really talked about. I mean, I know how you feel about homelessness and child abuse, but not what you want for forever. But if you….”
“Brant,” I put my hand over his mouth. “Shush. What are you trying to ask?”
“Tanya,” he looked at me. “I love you. I want you and this baby. I want us. Will you marry me?”
“How does your wife feel about that?” I laughed.
“She’s happy as long as she gets her money and doesn’t have to watch me frivolously throw it away on people who ‘don’t deserve it.’”
The statement made us both laugh.
“So,” he asked again, “will you be my wife? Will you marry me?”
I couldn’t think of anything I’d like more than to be with him forever. The idea terrified me. A family. A husband. Responsibility.
“I’d rather be in hell with you than heaven with anyone else,” I repeated one of his cheesiest lines just before he leaned down and kissed me. “yes, Brant. Yes, I will marry you.”
*****
THE END
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My Forbidden Navy SEAL Cowboy
Tyler
It was a rare busy night in the mess hall, as all of Tyler Hunter’s unit gathered for a meal together. For the last few weeks, most of the soldiers had been out on reconnaissance missions, and a few had been working to re-establish perimeters that had been broken down during the last attack. Tyler’s team of elite Navy SEALs had been sent to the little-known Middle Eastern country in an attempt to stamp down a growing terrorist insurgence, but progress had been slow-going. Tonight was the first night everyone had been back at base since the beginning of the month.
They were back because it was Thanksgiving, and it wasn’t the first holiday they were spending away from their families. But Tyler felt even worse for his parents because both he and his brother Declan were in the service, and neither of them could make it home this year. Declan’s wife, Bronwyn, had invited their parents to stay on the farm with her for the holidays, but it wasn’t enough to assuage Tyler’s guilt.
Tyler was poking absent-mindedly at his food when his buddy, Mike, came over and sat down next to him.
“What’s up, Wolfman? You look down?” Mike said with a slug to Tyler’s shoulder.
Tyler kept pushing his mashed potatoes around, but eventually just dropped the fork altogether and ran his hands through his short black hair.
“I just have this feeling, man. That something awful is going to happen. I can’t explain it, but I’ve had since I woke up this morning, and I can’t frigging shake it.”
Mike inched a little bit away from Tyler, so there was a more considerable space between them on the bench.
“I wouldn’t go around saying stuff like that too loudly, dude. You’re going to have trouble getting someone to go do perimeter checks with you later.”
Tyler shoved his tray across the table and let his head hit the cold metal. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, and it was making him sick to his stomach. Mike slid a small silver flask into Tyler’s lap with a gentle poke in the ribs.
“It’s the holidays, man. Take a few deeps breaths and settle down. You have a few hours before your next shift. Have a drink. Eat. Whatever is out there, it will still be there in the morning,” Mike whispered reassuringly.
Tyler nodded. He was exhausted from worrying, and he could use a break. He was just about to take a slug from the flask when several of the unit’s superior officers walked in to the mess hall, looking grim. Tyler felt his stomach drop down to his ankles, and he was afraid to move. It was rare that superior officers ate at the same time as the other guys, and when they started making their way toward Tyler, he felt his nerves begin to tattle even more. Mike let out a long breath.
“Ty, I’m sorry I dismissed you earlier. Something might be going on…”
Mike made a move to rush off but Tyler grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down.
“Don’t you dare move an inch, Mike. Whatever is coming, you’re going to sit right here next to me while I take it. Especially after I dragged your ass away from that brothel sting in Lebanon. So don’t you go anywhere.”
Mike grumbled a few curses under his breath and plopped back down on the bench with a groan. He did owe Ty and if he was calling in his chit over some moral support, it was the least he could do. Literally. The absolute least.
Both soldiers moved to stand up and salute as their superiors approached, but General Jensen McCord waved for them both to stay seated.
“Senior LCDR Tyler Hunter? They call you Wolfman, right?”
Tyler tried not to roll his eyes. Everyone got a nickname in the SEALs, and usually it was related to a stupid accident or mistake that everyone could rib you about for the rest of your time in the service. But during Tyler’s first week in training, he’d been woken from a dead sleep by the whining of a wolf pup in the woods around the base. Every told him to ignore it and go back to sleep, but he couldn’t do it. In his bare feet, in the pouring rain, Tyler rushed into the trees, found the abandoned pup, and brought it back to camp, where it was raised as a mascot.
But from that night on, the name, “Wolfman” had stuck. He knew it could have
been worse. He could have been Marshall “Tap Shoes” Fratelli.
Tyler reached a hand out to General McCord.
“Yes sir, they do. I hope I didn’t do anything to bring you all the way out here on a holiday.”
McCord sat down on the bench across from Tyler, flanked by the two other high-ranking officers. Tyler gulped.
Whatever is coming, it’s not good, Tyler thought nervously.
“Hunter, we received word at the main post today that there was a major firefight just outside of Syria, involving a large number of United States marines who were on their way to deliver supplies to Ukraine. All of the men involved are missing-in-action, and presumed dead. I’m sorry to say, Tyler, that your brother Declan is one of the missing.”
Tyler felt his shoulders droop instinctively. He knew it; he knew something horrible was about to happen. He had just hoped against all hope that it would happen to him and not his brother. His brother had a wife. His brother had a farm. Declan had something to go back to. All Tyler had was the job.
What am I going to tell our parents? Bronwyn? he thought with a sick feeling in his stomach. He barely heard the General start talking again.
“Hunter, we’re giving you leave to go back to Montana to deal with your brother’s affairs, and to spend some time with your family. Consider the leave indefinite unless you decide otherwise. You’ve been out here long enough, and you’ve served your country well. It’s time to take care of your family, son.”
Mike leaned over and whispered in Tyler’s ear, “Dude, I’m sorry about your brother but maybe you should buy a lottery ticket when you get back to the States.”
Tyler didn’t even have the strength to glare at his sarcastic friend. All he could think about was getting back to his parents. And how he was going to tell his brother’s wife that Declan may never be coming home.
SEALing The Victory Page 6