by Cleo Jones
Forever Bonded
By Cleo Jones
Copyright © Cleo Jones 2015
Amazing Grace Publications
First Edition
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This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are strictly coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
This BWWM pregnancy romance contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content offends you.
NOTE: All characters in this book are 18+ of age, non-blood related, and all sexual acts are consensual.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
Contest
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About the Author
BONUS STORY
Chapter one
Zoë arrived at the bistro just as the appetizers were being placed on the table, which in her mind was right on time. “Sorry I'm late,” she remarked, casting a fleeting glance at Nate and Aniyah before picking up the drink menu and waving down a waitress to order her usual poison: an overflowing glass of the most expensive Moscato.
Aniyah waved off Zoë's excuse about traffic being terrible on the way into the French Quarter and took a small bite of her caprese salad. Being perpetually late for things wasn't all that unusual for Zoë. It was just one of many undesirable habits she'd picked up in her youth that had carried on well into adulthood.
Drinking like a fish was a close second, but it wasn't like Aniyah didn't have her best friend matched in that respect. Both women had come to look at adulthood as a rapidly spreading disease, and a strong drink after a long week was as good an antidote as any.
After a few more drinks and some lighthearted conversation, the trio got to reminiscing on their pasts the way they always tended to.
“Oh man…you remember that time we went skinny dipping up by Dauphin Island and got our clothes stolen by that crazy girl Nate dumped?” Aniyah questioned between bites of her Bananas Foster, exchanging an amused look with Zoë.
“Don't even remind me,” Nate said with a grimace. “I came this close to catching something venereal from her. Which reminds me...why didn't either one of you bother letting me in on the fact that she was screwing half the guys in our graduating class?” He stared at the two women in front of him pointedly. “Some friends you are.”
“Tuh, please,” Zoë said with a laugh. “It was hardly a secret. You were just too blinded by her booty to notice.”
Nate opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off before he could.
“And before you go trying to deny it, I know it's true, because the last person you were with before her was me.” Zoë smiled and raised her glass to her lips. “Now I've got a lot of strengths, but let's face it, my struggle booty isn't one of them. It's really no surprise you went for someone like her after we broke up.”
“Uh-huh,” Nate shot back, rolling his eyes. He couldn't stand when she got all self-depreciating for the sake of a joke—especially one that was at his expense.
“Can you believe how long ago that was?” Aniyah said, twirling a piece of hair around her pointer finger in silent reflection. “We were just babies.”
“It wasn't that long ago,” Nate countered.
“Yeah, but it sure feels like it was. I just…I miss how relaxed everything felt back then,” Aniyah said, slipping into her Cajun accent the way she always tended to when she was feeling sentimental.
“Alright, boo. I think it's time you lay off the wine,” Zoë joked, reaching over to pry the glass from her friend's hand.
It was a known fact that Aniyah Berly was the very definition of a lightweight. All it took was a couple glasses of Merlot to turn her into a weepy mess, and she was already narrowing in on her third or fourth.
“I'm fine,” Aniyah objected, letting out a hiccupy laugh. “I just can't believe we're almost 40. Where does the time go?”
“Uh...since when is 29 almost 40?” Zoë interjected. “I got a good 10 years left on my engine, thank you very much.”
“Yeah, but everything's already so different. I'm engaged. Nate's got Audrey. And let's be real here, you're practically already married to—”
“Don't,” Zoë warned, cutting her off. “Evan and I aren't practically anything. We're just having fun together. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Aniyah rolled her eyes. “Let's see,” she said, holding out her fingers to count each indiscretion. “Y’all spend all your time together, you fuck like rabbits, and you can't come to an agreement to save your lives...that sure sounds like a marriage to me.”
Zoë sucked her teeth and went to object, but Aniyah wouldn’t let her.
“How many times you spent the night by his place in the past week?” she pressed, giving her a look that said she already knew.
Zoë stared down at the dark liquid in her glass and swished it around distractedly.
“Uh-huh,” Aniyah replied, flashing her a satisfied smile.
“Alright, fine. So I occasionally spend the night with him. Big deal. We're sleeping together, not exchanging vows.”
“Did he make room in his closet for you?”
Zoë remained quiet. It was obvious that Aniyah had gotten her there.
“Yup,” Aniyah said in a singsong voice. “Next thing you know he'll be getting down on one knee.”
Zoë sighed and fidgeted in her chair. She knew well enough that she and Evan were entering more serious territory, but she didn't relish in admitting it. All that would do was make it official, and making things official made her feel trapped. Aniyah might have been ready to dive head first into the next phase of her life, six-carat engagement ring and all, but Zoë most certainly wasn't.
Zoë was pulled away from her thoughts by the sound of Nate's beer bottle making hard contact with the table. She glanced over at him as he rushed to clean up the spill, immediately recognizing the strained look of annoyance on his face.
“Smooth.”
“Haha,” Nate muttered, making a point of avoiding her gaze.
Zoë gave him a perplexed look as Aniyah spoke up again.
“And Nate, don’t think you ain’t in the same boat as little miss anti-commitment here,” she said, waving a finger in his direction. “It’s only a matter of time before Audrey starts expecting you to pop the question.”
Zoë tensed as an uncomfortable feeling settled into the pit of her stomach. She’d never liked Audrey. She was the kind of brain dead white girl she made a point of avoiding in her day-to-day interactions: a slender 25-year-old who came from old money and spent a large portion of her time milking her father for all
he was worth.
Like many beautiful young women before her, Audrey was a seasoned model who spent the bulk of her time in New York for work, but that small trait of interest didn't make her any less annoying. Of her vast array of aggravating qualities, the one that grated at Zoë the most was her tendency of laughing at every word that left Nate’s mouth.
This wouldn’t have been a problem in and of itself, expect that it had always been a well-established fact that Nathaniel Cross wasn’t funny. In fact, he was the exact opposite of funny. He couldn’t take a joke to save his life.
Nate cleared his throat and wiped at his mouth with a napkin before fishing around in his pocket for his wallet. “Uh, speaking of which, I should probably head home. Audrey's flying in pretty early tomorrow and I’m on duty to pick her up.”
“How long she staying this time?” Aniyah questioned.
“Bout a week. She would stay longer but—”
“But thank heavens she can't,” Zoë finished for him, tossing back the last of her drink.
Nate gave her a dirty look. “Would it kill you to be a little nicer to her?” he questioned. “If you’d just give her a chance, you’d see she isn’t half bad. I don’t understand why you don’t like her. You’re not jealous, are you?”
Zoë scoffed and feigned offense. “Don’t flatter yourself,” she fired back. “Been there, done that. Three times, actually, since you appear to have lost count.”
Zoë was referring to the previous times she and Nate had attempted to make it work within the confines of a relationship. The first time had been for a couple months during their sophomore year of high school. The second had been the summer after they graduated, in the midst of her parent’s messy divorce. And the third, if it could even really be counted, lasted for precisely three weeks when she first started working at his mother’s catering company.
All three times, they’d ended things mutually and on decent enough terms, but that wasn't to say they didn't continue hooking up and partaking in undefined flings. However, it was the sudden inclusion of their respective significant others that caused them to lay that chapter of their lives to rest once and for all.
“I’m not jealous,” Zoë clarified, speaking more firmly. “On the contrary, I don’t like Audrey because she’s a spoiled daddy's girl who hangs on to your every word like she gets some kind of sustenance out it. Which makes sense, I guess, considering I’ve never really seen her eat. I mean…the girl lives in a city with some of the best food in the world, yet she chews on ice when she gets hungry. How am I the only one who finds that suspect?”
“For the thousandth time,” Nate said with a deep sigh. “She’s trying to walk in Fashion Week. Watching her weight is just another part of the job. See...that right there is the exact kind of thing I don't want you saying while she's here.”
“Relax,” Aniyah spoke up for the first time in minutes, giving Zoë a stern look. “I'll make sure Evel Knievel here plays nice. There won't be any repeats of the Christmas incident.”
Ah, the Christmas incident. Zoë smiled as it replayed in vivid detail in her head.
“It took her two weeks to realize those 'candy bars' you gifted her were actually weight gaining aids,” Nate remarked, reading her mind. “Hilarious.”
“Please, I was doing the Lord's work,” Zoë replied. “That girl could use a little meat on her bones. She’s gotta be 100 pounds at the most.”
Nate rolled his eyes. “Anyways, she has a go-see with some big designer next week, so if you could avoid those kind of antics this time around, that would be great.”
Zoë started to say something smart, no doubt, but Aniyah cut her off before she could.
“I should probably get going too,” she spoke up, grabbing for her purse. “Caleb and I are meeting with our wedding planner in the morning. Which reminds me...we're going out to Tropical Isle for drinks with a few of his co-workers tomorrow night. Boring, I know, but they just moved here, so they're still pretty wooed by the whole tourist trap thing. Anyways, y'all should come. Bring Evan and Audrey.”
Nate was silent for a moment before responding. “Only if Zoë promises to lay down the hatchet,” he said once he’d a chance to consider it, briefly meeting eyes with her.
The look he was giving her managed to soften Zoë’s resolve within seconds.
It always had.
“Alright,” she agreed, keeping her dark eyes steadied on his. “I’m in.”
Chapter two
Zoë had been at Tropical Isle for precisely five minutes and she was already ready to call it a night. She hated all the kitschy tourist traps that had sprouted up along Bourbon Street post-Katrina, and this was most certainly one of them. However, it was Audrey’s presence across the table that annoyed Zoë more than anything. Her fizzy-sweet personality was anything but authentic.
“I’ll admit, if Nate and I weren’t so secure, I'd probably be a little worried about this one,” Audrey spoke up in response to something Zoë hadn't heard, forcing a smile and pointing a bare fingernail at her.
Nate, who had been distracted by his phone up until then, looked up and shot Audrey a surprised look before giving Zoë an uncomfortably apologetic one.
Zoë stared back at Audrey just as intensely as she was staring at her. Worried? Now just why in the hell would she be worried? There was nothing for her to be worried about. Zoë no longer had any horse in this race.
Zoë could see Aniyah eyeing the situation with a hint of curiosity from where she was standing near the bar. The look on her face was one that screamed, “don’t do it”, so Zoë pushed aside her irritation and opted on remaining quiet instead. Beside her, Evan awkwardly cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him.
“Oh my, how rude of me!” Zoë spoke up, placing her hand on his bicep for emphasis. “This is Evan.”
Evan smirked at her and extended his hand to Audrey before adding, “I'm her boyfriend.”
Audrey sized him up for a second before speaking. “Well, it's nice to meet you, Evan,” she remarked in a lackluster tone, quickly turning her attention back towards Nate.
Zoë rolled her eyes at the snide look of satisfaction that etched its way across Audrey's face as she pulled Nate into a nauseatingly passionate kiss, overcompensating as usual.
This was all Aniyah's fault. She was the one who enticed Zoë and Nate to tag along for this, and the “play nice” mantra was completely her own. With that in mind, Zoë was also blaming Aniyah for the rather large Sazerac she was gulping down at an alarming rate. She didn't have a choice. If she was going to make it through this night in one piece, she'd need a little liquid reinforcement.
“This is such an interesting place,” Audrey called out to no one in particular. “My parents own a few lounges up by the Vieux Carré, granted, they're a lot more upscale.”
Zoë sighed inwardly. Those kinds of pretentious remarks were exactly why she’d come to loath Audrey.
“But don't get me wrong,” Audrey continued, slowly taking in her surroundings. “This is nice. It's really...urban.”
Zoë gave Audrey a foul look as she swallowed back the last of her drink and waved down a passing cocktail waitress for another.
Audrey must have noticed that her diatribe wasn’t too popular with the table, because she was quick to find an out. “The ladies room,” she spoke up, pulling herself to her feet. “Where is it?”
“Down the hall to the left,” Nate instructed.
Audrey flashed him an anxious smile before grabbing up her designer purse and sauntering away. When she was finally gone, Zoë let out a breath of relief and looked down at the now empty glass in her hands.
Her next drink couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter three
Nate nursed his beer as he surveyed the dimly lit dance floor where Audrey and Aniyah were seen dancing amongst a sea of Mardi Gras bead laden tourists. After parting ways with his co-workers, Caleb had went up to the bar to catch that last half of the basketball game on the l
arge plasma screens that surrounded it, and Evan was quick to tag-along. That left Nate and Zoë completely alone in each other’s presence.
“Sorry about Audrey,” Nate spoke up. “She just…she doesn't always think before she speaks.”
Zoë smirked. “So I see,” she muttered, refusing to pry her hand from her chin. Her boredom was more than a little apparent.
The pair sat in silence for a moment, taking in the swarm of sweaty bodies that surrounded them as they each worked at avoiding each other’s gaze.
“She means well,” Nate insisted. “Really, she's a sweet girl once you get to know her. She's just a little—”
“I get it,” Zoë interrupted. “She's great. If you’re happy, I’m happy. Can we maybe just talk about something other than her for once?”
An amused smile worked its way across Nate’s chiseled features. “You're never going to like her, are you?” he remarked, letting out a soft laugh.