by Julie Bailes
“He said if I met him at his attorney’s office this morning, I wouldn’t need to be dragged in and out of court, but if I didn’t, they would have me summoned,” I inform him.
“You’re going?” he asks over a mouthful of toothpaste.
“I thought about it,” I admit. He spits, rinses, and moves so that I can wash my hands.
His hands snake around my stomach, and he rests his chin on my shoulder.
“You need to go, babe. If you want, I can go with you,” he says, looking into the mirror and catching my attention with his smoldering hazel eyes.
“I will. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I want to go by myself. You two already hate each other as it is, and you don’t even know his story,” I explain.
“I don’t need to know his story to know he’s an ass, but I do want to know the story about Lacy.”
He’s asked me several times to tell him the story behind my pregnancy and my reasons for choosing adoption, but he already knows too much. I never wanted Blake to know about my past, not Wyatt or the pregnancy, and definitely not the adoption. He pokes his lips out slightly and lowers his lids. “No, dammit. Don’t give me those sad and sleepy eyes. I’m not telling you.” He moves my hair aside and gently blows up and down the back of my neck, causing my entire body to shiver. His hand comes back around and cups my bare and tender breasts. He gives a slight pinch to my swollen and very-sensitive bud, and heat shoots like a bottle rocket down to my core. I know what he’s doing; he’s hoping I’ll cave and open up to him. If he wants information, he has to learn that his strategy will not work, because at this very moment, I’m simply a puppet to his strings.
“St-st- stop,” I stutter quietly.
His hand releases my breast and drops to my stomach. “Y’all hear this? Mommy wants me to stop making her feel good. But you listen to me, us Andrews men, we always please our women.” He takes the bottom of his shirt I’m wearing and pulls it over my head, and then tosses it onto the floor. Turning me around, he gets down on his knees and places warm kisses to the sides of my hips.
He kisses between my thighs as his strong hand gently massages my sex. “Stop, huh? You sure about that, baby?” he asks seductively.
I nod my head yes, but my brain is screaming NO! My insides are boiling, and I want him, terribly. But, I need to get to the attorney’s office. He spreads my folds and very slowly inserts his fingers, and then retracts them at a torturing slow speed. “I can’t tell, not by this,” he taunts, showing me his fingers are glistening with my juices. I don’t need him to show me the evidence that I don’t want him to stop. Trust me; I can feel myself dripping for him. Again, I just nod. “All right, baby, my goal is to please you,” he announces. Standing up, he leans in and whispers beside my ear, “And I believe I’ve achieved that goal, sort of.” His touch has my brain in a fog, and I’m afraid that if I open my mouth, the only thing that’s going to come out is ‘NO! TAKE ME NOW!’ So I don’t respond in any way, shape, or form.
I stand here hot, throbbing, and wanting more. As he whispers his cocky achievements into my ear, he allows his breath to graze my neck and raise the temperature in my core to combustible levels. “I’ll stop, but only if you promise to let me take care of you later,” he negotiates.
“Umhum,” is all I can manage to put together.
When he pulls his head back, he takes a moment to praise my nakedness with his hungry, lust filled eyes. He picks his shirt up from the floor and slings it over his shoulder. “You don’t need this,” he advises, strutting back into the bedroom. When he’s downstairs, I splash ice-cold water onto my face, brush my teeth, and pull my hair over into a low side-ponytail. I curl the hanging pieces and put some gloss on my lips. Then, I throw on a pink cotton dress with flip-flops and head downstairs.
As I make my way down the last two steps, the smell of bacon invades my senses, and I become queasy. I bring my hand up to cover my nose, go to the bar and snatch a banana. “Babe, will you toss me a water?” I ask from under my hand.
When Blake sees I have my face covered, he panics. “Shit. Is it the bacon? I should’ve asked,” he apologizes, grabbing me a water from the fridge. He places the water on the bar, runs over to cut the burner off and open the back door. “It’s fine, B, honestly. I’m actually leaving to meet with Mr. Morris, Wyatt’s attorney. I called him before I came down, and he told me to come on in.” I take the water and banana and head for the door. I remove my hand long enough to blow him a quick kiss. “Love you. I’ll call you when I’m done.”
At 9:15am, I pull into the parking lot of Mr. Larry Morris’ office, Attorney at Law. The office isn’t very large, just a small, red brick building, but the inside is immaculate. The waiting area is lined with good-quality leather chairs. There’s a huge fish tank built into the wall behind the receptionist desk and bamboo floors. As I walk up to the desk, I’m greeted by a beautiful young woman. Her hair is burgundy and thick, with curls that drape around her shoulders and bounce as she speaks. “Hi, do you have an appointment?” she asks nicely.
“Um, not necessarily. My name’s Allie Anderson. I called this morning, and Mr. Morris told me to come in.” She scoots her chair back, stands, and walks around her desk to shake my hand. “Ah, you’re here for Mr. Cooper. He’s a sweet man. Right this way,” she instructs. I don’t bother telling her that I’m not here for Wyatt or that he isn’t sweet, but he is insensitive. All I want to do is answer the questions and get the hell out of here.
She leads me down a narrow hallway and knocks on a door, but doesn’t wait for a response. She just opens the door and introduces me as she enters. “Mr. Morris, this is Allie Anderson for Mr. Cooper’s case.” Damn, woman, I’m not here for his case. As I walk in, my eyes immediately connect with the eyes I despise most, yet love more than anything in the world. A smile spreads across his face as he gestures for me to take the seat beside him. Before I sit, Mr. Morris stands up, straightens his tie, and extends his hand to the chair Wyatt’s already suggesting I sit in. “Miss Anderson, thank you for coming.”
I flatten the back of my dress and take a seat. Wyatt places his hand on top of mine, but I quickly jerk it away. “Don’t touch me,” I whisper, irritated that he thinks he has permission to touch me whenever he feels like it. And he has the audacity to chuckle? “As I told you earlier, Miss Anderson, there are a few questions I need you to answer. Now, I need you to be completely honest with me. Can you do that?” I’m sitting in a room full of liars, and he’s asking me if I can be honest? He lies for a living and the one beside me, well, he’s the devil in disguise. “Yes. I assure you, Mr. Morris, I’m no liar,” I respond, turning my head and glaring as I direct my response at Wyatt.
Larry takes a sip of coffee before proceeding with his list of questions. We go over my name, birthdate, address, and my nonexistent criminal history. You’d figure he’d already know this being as he’s a lawyer. Finally, we’re getting down to the nitty gritty, the shit I came here to answer to begin with. He asks for the name of the agency that handled the adoption, and I tell him. “So, you went about the adoption appropriately?” he asks.
“Appropriately? I’m not sure what you mean by your question. If you’re asking if the adoption was legal, yes. I went through the agency; they’re legit. You can look into them.” He’s slouched down in his chair, ankle crossed over his knee, elbow on the armrest, clicking a pen in his hand. He eyes me in silence, boring a hole into my soul as if I’m hiding information.
“I want to know if you followed state laws, Miss Anderson. Did you or did you not reach out to Mr. Cooper?”
Suddenly, I feel like I’m on an episode of Law and Order. ‘Did you or did you not?’ I’m not on trial. “Yes, I reached out to him. It was mandatory. The agency wouldn’t let me proceed until I did,” I seethe.
“Care to explain which methods you used?”
Are you kidding me? Can’t he just call the damn agency and get the answers he’s looking for? I take in a breath and try to
calm myself, but before I can reply, Wyatt pipes up. “Look, Mr. Morris, I’m happy you decided to represent me, but you’ll watch your tone with her. She’s done nothing wrong, and I won’t sit here and let you make accusations about her. You told me you needed the agency’s information, and she gave it to you.”
Larry sits up in his chair and scoots into his desk. “No, you listen, Mr. Cooper. I’m happy to represent you, but if you want your daughter back, I need to know these things. I have to know what I’m getting myself into. I’ve had cases before where the mother didn’t follow state regulations, and the adoption wasn’t legit. If for some reason Miss Anderson didn’t follow the guidelines, the case will be easier to win. But if she did, I’m not sure there’s much I’ll be able to help you with,” he informs.
Wyatt stands and takes my hand. “Come with me,” he instructs. I follow him down the hall and outside to the parking lot. “I’m sorry, Al. I didn’t know he was going to be a rude dick,” he apologizes, placing his fingers under my chin and tilting my face up.
My breathing begins to slow and I start to calm down, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why it’s his touch that always seems calm me. I snap my head to the side and storm off to my car, angry with how my body can still react positively to him.
“Allie, wait,” he calls, but I keep walking. I hear the gravel crunch as he jogs up behind me. He pushes his hand into my door to prevent me from opening it.
“Can we go somewhere to talk? I don’t know, get some coffee or something?”
Blake doesn’t want me drinking caffeine, but telling me to keep away from coffee is like asking a crack head to share their last stash; shit’s not happening. Surprisingly, coffee and ice cream are the only things that sound appetizing. Assuming that my agitation is a side effect from my recent coffee detox, I agree. “Okay, but you have to promise to keep your hands to yourself. Understand?” I sigh, pointing my finger into his chest.
His face lights up, and I swear his eyes twinkle as his lips spread into a satisfied grin. “Got it. Do you want to ride with me and save your gas? We have to drive back by here anyway.”
He’s crazy if he believes I’m going to let him trap me. I know him and his not-so-mysterious motives. “Nah, I’ll follow you.” He nods and takes off to his Jeep. I wonder if I should call Blake and tell him where I’m going. Then again, I don’t need him showing up and causing a scene in public. I shoot him a text letting him know that I’m finished with the lawyer, and I’m going for coffee with a friend. Which isn’t a complete lie, but I’m not sure how to classify Wyatt. He’s not actually a friend. I suppose I could refer to him as my baby daddy, but that makes me sound like a hood rat. Whatever. I’ll leave it at friend unless Blake asks for specifics, and then I’ll tell him who my ‘friend’ is.
Before I’m able to unbuckle after I’ve parked, Wyatt’s opening my door. “Come on, pretty girl. Let’s get you some coffee.” I just shake my head and remain silent. We walk into the small coffee shop, and the aroma that fills the air is heavenly. It’s the only scent I can actually sniff and not get nauseous. Which takes me back to when I found out I was pregnant; I knew as soon as the smell of day-old coffee made me sick. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened since then. In fact, I crave coffee and ice cream. I give Wyatt my order, and he returns with a large black coffee and blueberry muffin. “For my lady,” he smiles, setting the items down before me. I look to him and arch a brow. I guess I amuse him, because his smile widens and he winks at me before sitting.
He takes a bite of his pastry and washes it down with his coffee. “Columbian, two sugars and one cream?” I ask, remembering how I made it for him many times before.
“You know it.” Why does it have to be so hard to hate him? After all the mistakes he’s made, I still can’t hate him, no matter how hard I try. Then again, they’re mistakes and they deserve forgiveness, right? As I sit here and watch his quirky habits, I begin to realize just how much I miss him. I miss seeing his messy hair in the mornings. I miss him rubbing my head until I fell asleep at night. And I really miss him running from Mom when she caught us sleeping together. She’d chase him with anything she could get her hands on. Curling iron, extension cord, broom, fire poker … he’s been hit with them all.
“What are you laughing about?” he asks.
“Nothing really, just how Mom would chase you through the house, swattin’ at your ass with whatever she could find. You remember that?” I laugh.
“Like it was yesterday,” he says, laughing along with me.
After we attract attention and earn a few glares from surrounding customers, we silence our laughter and finish our coffee. “I miss this. I miss the sound of your laughter, being the cause of it,” he confesses.
I rest my hands on my stomach and jump out of my seat when I feel one of the babies kick me for the first time. I mean, they’ve fluttered around, but nothing to this extent. I’ve felt them for a few weeks, but they weren’t strong enough for anyone else to feel.
Wyatt jumps up and rushes to my side. “What is it?” he asks concerned.
I keep my eyes and hands attached to my belly and feel it again. “Feel.” I remove my hand and replace it with his. I raise my head and watch him as he sees my stomach jump; I want to see his reaction. And sure enough, he’s amazed. One of the babies gives a kick or punch, and his mouth falls open.
“Holy shit, that’s the baby?” he asks amazed.
“Yeah.” He positions himself in front of me and cradles my bump, but the movements stop.
We sit back down at our table, and the atmosphere should be awkward, but it isn’t. “We broke your no touching rule,” he beams. Damn, we did. I rummage through my purse to check the time on my phone and see I have a text from Blake.
Blake: OK. But just one cup, dammit! Love u!
Me: Promise. Be home soon.
I place my phone back in my bag, throw it on my shoulder and stand. “You’re leaving?” Wyatt asks, his smile quickly fading.
“Yeah, I shouldn’t have agreed to come here.” I push my chair under the table and make my way out of the coffee shop.
As soon as my feet hit the sidewalk outside the shop, Wyatt’s hand circles my arm. “Butterfly, please, don’t go. We were having a good time, just like old times. If this is about me touching you, I’m sorry,” he begins to apologize.
“No, it wasn’t your fault. I got caught up in the moment, that’s all. I should’ve been home. Blake should’ve been the first to feel the babies move,” I admit, cutting his apology short. I take long strides to my car and get in. As soon as I’m in the seat, I lock the doors and start the car. I don’t give my car time to adjust before I slam the gear into reverse and take off. I look into the rearview mirror and see Wyatt with his head down and kicking dust.
I shouldn’t have gone for coffee, and I sure as shit shouldn’t have let him touch our babies. Gah! I’m so fucking weak. I got trapped in our past, remembering the love I had for that handsome, blue-eyed teenage boy I once knew. Remembering the person, who stood by my side, never let me give up, and brought me back to life after my father died. I got lost in his see-through eyes and forgot about the piece-of-shit twenty-year-old asshole who stole my virginity, knocked me up, and left me to deal with the pain of life, all by myself.
Fifteen
~Wyatt~
It’s a wet and nasty day. The sky is dark and the rain’s never-ending. Pulling out my phone, I call the only person whose voice brings me peace. The only woman who can calm me down just as fast as she can piss me off. And just like the last ten times I’ve called, I get sent to voicemail. “Allie, it’s me again. Listen, I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I wish you’d stop ignoring me. We were fine at the coffee shop a few weeks ago, and now it’s like you’ve vanished. Anyway, I miss you and hope you woman up and call me soon. I’m headed to the hearing. I guess I’ll call you if I find out anything today. Just know that I miss you, and I’m thinking of you.” I finish my statement just before her
mailbox shuts off. She hasn’t been home to get any clothes. She continues to ignore me, and I miss the living hell out of her. She seemed fine the last time we were together, just like we used to be.
Today’s the first hearing, the day I find out if I have any chance of getting custody of Lacy. As I enter the courtroom, I find Larry and accompany him at the table at the front of the room. As we sit at our table and adjust our chairs, my eyes catch Dr. Ruben and his wife taking their places on the opposite side of the room. I attempt to avoid eye contact with them, mainly because the woman is dabbing a tissue under her eyes to dry her tears, and I don’t want to see the hatred I assume they have for me. Who wouldn’t hate the person who’s trying to tear their family apart?
Do I feel bad fighting for what’s rightfully mine? No, not at all. Do I feel awful about the heartache they could experience if the judge grants me custody of her? Of course, I do; I’m not a heartless monster. I have no negative feelings toward the Rubens. In fact, I’m very appreciative of them. They’ve taken Lacy into their home, raised her as their own, nurtured her, and loved her. It’s not their fault we’re in this situation; it’s mine. I skim the courtroom and look for any guest who might’ve accompanied them. Really, I’m searching for a girl who looks to be around four years of age, but I don’t see her. I don’t blame them for not bringing her, but I wish they would have. I can’t wait to finally meet my blue-eyed princess.
We stand as the judge enters. Once she has a seat and orders us to be seated, she cuts straight to the chase. “Mr. Morris, Mr. Long,” she acknowledges both lawyers with a curt nod.