Knocked Up by the Single Dad

by Lilian Monroe

  I feel a stabbing pain in my heart when she mentions him. I’ve spent the past three months convincing myself that he IS an asshole and I AM better off without him.

  And yet, and yet....

  There’s a piece of me missing. After that day I cried for three days straight. Emma was there, once again, to pick up the pieces. My thoughts flick back to that evening on the roof, under twinkling lights of the city, when he made me an amazing meal and made me feel special. I remember when we clinked our wine glasses together, he looked so strong and handsome. His eyes were dark but they were sparkling with soft emotion and kindness.

  It’s the kindness that doesn’t make sense. I still don’t understand how someone so kind, so tender, could be so… fake. As hard as I’ve tried to convince myself that I’m better off without him, a small part of me still doesn’t believe it.

  Even now, when I’ve spent the last three months convincing myself I made the right decision by cutting him off, I feel a warmth in my centre at the thought of him. At the thought of his strong, muscular body that looks like it was chiseled in stone.

  I can almost, almost feel the sparks fly across my skin at his touch. Almost, but not quite.

  I haven’t told Emma that I haven’t had an orgasm since the last day I saw him. Truthfully, I haven’t really tried. There’s no point. I know, deep down, that I can’t come without his touch.

  Emma continues. “Listen, we’re not going to try to hook you up with anyone. We just need to get you out of this freaking apartment and around some other people! People you don’t work with.”

  Tonight is the first time I’m going out since I stopped talking to him and I’m incredibly nervous. I don’t even know why! Nervous to talk to other guys, maybe. Nervous I’ll run into him. A part of me almost hopes I will, but I chide myself for admitting it. New York is a big city, the chances of running into him are minuscule. And plus, he should be in Seattle by now.

  The thought of him gone away to the other side of the country is simultaneously a relief and the worst thing I could imagine.

  Emma and I hop in a cab and head to the newest lounge down the street. It’s packed to the rafters with people and my heartbeat increases immediately. Emma grabs my elbow and gives it a squeeze, sensing my unease.

  “It’ll be ok,” she whispers in my ear.

  She struts into the bar and as usual all eyes are on her. She’s sex on legs, and I’m glad that the attention isn’t on me. I just need to find a corner to hide in now to calm my anxious mind.

  My eyes scan the room instinctively. I’m looking for him, I know I am.

  What am I doing? I’m the one who stopped talking to him. Even if he was here, who’s to say he would even give me the time of day. He would probably have some bombshell on his arm. Maybe even more than one.

  The thought of Clay with another woman makes me lightheaded. I feel sick. Of course he’s been with other women since me, he’s a player. That’s what he does. I need to get over this, and going out tonight is the first step.

  I follow Emma to the bar and we order some drinks. She turns around and is immediately accosted by a tall, good-looking blond guy. He’s got that wind-whipped hair look that reminds me of a surfer. I wonder how he achieved that look in New York City. I look at him and take a deep breath. I’m not sure I can do this.

  Emma gives my elbow a squeeze again and turns to the guy.

  “Guess what! I just bought her seventeenth cat today!” She tells him excitedly. “I’ve started knitting them Christmas sweaters already, want to see some photos?”

  He opens his mouth and then closes it like a fish out of water, and then spins on his heels and walks away. I burst out laughing. I love this girl.

  Chapter 46 - Clay

  I’m standing outside Dr. Willis’ office with my arm raised, ready to knock. He’s asked me for a meeting this evening, before my shift starts for the night. I’m unexpectedly nervous. He’s either going to tell me I’m shit at my job and it’s not working out or else praise me. I have no idea which it is, and that in itself isn’t a great sign.

  “Come in,” I hear his gruff voice call through the door after I knock.

  I turn the knob and step through the door. My palms are sweaty and I wish they weren’t. I walk in hesitantly and he motions to a chair on the other side of his desk, barely taking his eyes off the files in front of him. I sit across from him and put my hands in my lap, and then on the armrest, and then on my lap again. I hate being nervous.

  “You wanted to see me?” I hate how squeaky my voice is. It’s like I’m going through puberty all over again! I’m not usually like this.

  “Doctor O’Neill,” he starts. He lifts his eyes off his papers and looks at me over his glasses. “Thank you for coming in.”

  He takes his glasses off his face and folds them deliberately, placing them in front of him on his desk. He straightens his papers and then folds his hands and looks up at me. He has a full head of curly grey hair with thick, bushy eyebrows. He’s staring at me from under his eyebrows and I’m willing myself not to squirm under the gaze.

  “I’ve asked you here for us to have a performance review. You’ve been here three months, and I thought it appropriate to give you some feedback.”

  I nod. “That sounds good, I’d love to hear your feedback.”

  “Good.” He leans back in his chair, still looking at me. “You’re a brilliant doctor.”

  “I, uh.. thank you, Dr. Willis.” It feels good to hear those words from him.

  “You’re a brilliant doctor but you’re lacking something,” he continues without acknowledging my words. My eyebrows shoot up. He pauses.

  He certainly knows how to be dramatic.

  “You’re lacking something and up until now I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. Your bedside manner is professional yet empathetic. Your paperwork is impeccable and your surgical skills are world class.” He pauses again, leaning forward towards me. “I’m just not sure you want to be here.”

  “What! No! I do, Doctor. I’ve been working for the past ten years just to be here, working for you. I swear, this is exactly where I want to be.”

  “Hmm.”

  He pushes his chair back and stands up. He turns his back to me and stares out the window behind him at the evening sky. The streetlights are just starting to come on as the sunlight goes down. As usual, grey clouds dominate the sky. He stands at the window with his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Sometimes, where you think you want to be and where you actually want to be are two different places.” He spins around and looks at me.

  The intensity of his gaze makes my heart beat faster. What is he saying? Of course I want to be here.

  “Have you heard of the sunk cost fallacy, Doctor O’Neill?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s an economic concept where you become too emotionally attached to your investments and as time goes on the more difficult it becomes to drop the investment, even when you’re operating at a loss.”

  “Precisely.” He’s still staring at me with those laser beams. “Except it’s not only an economic concept. It’s really more of a human psychology concept; it can be applied to all types of scenarios.”

  He goes quiet and we both stay there, unmoving, staring at each other. The cogs in my brain are spinning, spinning, trying to figure out what he’s trying to tell me.

  “Where do you want to be, Doctor O’Neill?” The weight of his question bears down on me.

  “Here! Right here, working for you. This is where I want to be.” I answer a little too quickly, a little too loudly. It sounds like I’m trying to convince myself. Dr. Willis sits back down and opens the files back up. He answers me without looking up.

  “Think about this conversation, Doctor. I believe your shift is about to start.”

  I nod and stand up to leave. I open my mouth to say something, and then realise I have no idea what I want to tell him. I turn around and walk out of
his office.

  Once outside I let out a deep sigh. The ground feels like it’s lurching underneath me, I don’t know what is right or wrong anymore.

  Does he always have to be so cryptic?!

  Except I know that he wasn’t being cryptic. He’s incredibly perceptive, and he knows that my heart isn’t in cardiology.

  It’s in New York, with Valerie Brooks.

  Chapter 47 - Valerie

  I say goodbye to my client, knowing I’ve made another sale. She shakes my hand and then hails a cab, jogging from the building’s awning to the cab door to avoid getting drenched in the rain. I look up at the sky. No signs of this storm clearing.

  The rain is belting down, bouncing up off the sidewalk and flooding the gutters. I look down the street and chew the inside of my cheek. I’m only a block away from that cafe in Soho, from that loft. My heart beats a little bit faster when I glance in that direction.

  A nice, warm latte would be really nice right now. I am in the neighbourhood, and if I happen to glance up at a certain set of windows, that won’t hurt, will it? It’s probably empty, or has new owners. He’s definitely in Seattle by now.

  I pull out my umbrella and open it up, heading in the direction of the cafe. I duck in and fold up my umbrella, leaving it by the door and shaking my hair out. I glance out the coffee shop windows at the other side of the street, but I can barely make out the building through the rain. I shouldn’t be here, I think. It’s too close for comfort. My heart is beating hard in my chest and my breath is shallow and quick.

  I walk up to the counter and order a latte, to stay. I pick a table and wait for my order to be ready. When it’s called out, I wrap my fingers around the warm mug and sit back down, wondering what I’m doing here.

  I shouldn’t be here. I’ve avoided this area ever since that day, when I found the truth about Clay O’Neill’s personality. I don’t want to run into him. Didn’t want to run into him. My heartbeat quickens at the thought of seeing him. I take another sip of hot, milky coffee to calm my nerves. I shouldn’t even be nervous! He doesn’t live here anymore, I’m sure of it.

  How can I be sure? I think to myself. I can’t. But I have to tell myself that he’s gone forever. Maybe if I glance up at the windows and see someone else in that gorgeous loft apartment then I’ll be able to move on knowing he’s gone.

  I sip my coffee slowly, savouring every mouthful of hot liquid. It’s creamy and sweet, and it runs down my throat warming me up from the inside. I close my eyes with every sip, letting my body relax and my mind go blank.

  I’ll finish my drink, and then walk across the road and look up at the windows, just once. Then I’ll walk away and I won’t come back.

  I’ll move on.

  This is the last step. After this, I can move on. Maybe I can even try to get myself off. I still have my Girl’s Best Friend, and I know it’s not the toy that’s broken. I know I can do it, I just have to prove to myself that I can do it without him.

  Do I even want to do it without him?

  Before my mind starts spiralling down that path I stand up and push my chair back. I gather my things and take a deep breath, ready walk across the street and then walk away. Forever.

  My umbrella is still dripping wet but I shake it out just outside the door before opening it up. I step out into the rain and wait for the light to change, and then cross the street.

  Each step takes me closer and closer to his building, his home. The building where I felt as much at home as I have anywhere else in this city. Each step makes my heart beat faster, my breath more ragged. I can hear my own heartbeat raging in my ears like a torrent, drowning out the rain and the incessant honking of New York City traffic.

  I step up onto the curb on the other side of the street and look at the familiar brick wall, raking my eyes upwards slowly. Brick by brick, storey by storey, window by window, I bring my gaze up to the loft. It’s dark, there aren’t any lights on. I can’t see any furniture in the darkness nor can I see any movement. I sigh, letting all the nervous energy out with my breath.

  It’s done.

  He’s gone.

  The realisation hits me like a moving train and the breath is knocked out of me.

  He’s gone.

  He’s gone.

  Hot, burning tears start welling up in my eyes. I’ve lost the one thing that made me feel whole. I cut him out, without realising what I was doing. I didn’t let him explain a word to me, I just took that woman’s story at face value.

  He’s gone.

  I’ve lost him.

  The weight of my mistake hits me. I cut him out without listening, without trusting him. I let my pride and my embarrassment get in the way of hearing what he had to say. The tears are rolling down my cheeks and finally, standing in the cold rain outside his apartment I understand the true depth of my loneliness. My feet are like blocks of concrete, I can’t move, I can’t think. I can only cry silent, unending tears.

  And then, a voice pulls me out of my stupor. Not A voice, THE voice. The voice I’ve been dreaming of, the voice I’ve been missing. His voice. His voice! He’s calling my name!

  “Val!”

  I spin around towards the sound and I see him opening the lobby door, rushing towards me. In an instant he’s drenched by the rain but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters. He crashes into me and his arms are around me, pulling me into him. My umbrella drops to the ground as I lift my arm up towards his neck, wrapping myself around him.

  His lips collide with mine and the sweet warmth of his kiss envelops me like nothing before. It’s not just a kiss, it’s more. It’s our entire beings, our hearts, our souls colliding, meshing, coming together and dancing together with our tongues.

  The rain pours down and washes my face clean of my tears. He brings a hand up and tangles his fingers into my hair, pulling my head closer to him. Our clothes are drenched, soaked in the rain. The cold means nothing, it is nothing, compared to the heat of our bodies coming together.

  His hands travel down to my ass and he hoists me up to his waist. I wrap my legs around him and bring my hands to the side of his head. I don’t stop kissing him for a second. I can’t stop. I won’t stop.

  He’s here.

  He’s here.

  He’s mine, and I’m his.

  Chapter 48 - Clay

  My wet shirt is clinging to my body but I don’t care, because Val’s legs are wrapped around my waist and my lips are all over hers. Her body fits into mine like two puzzle pieces. Nothing matters except her kiss.

  She pulls her head back gently and looks into my eyes. The rain has matted her hair against her skull, with water running in rivulets down her face. She looks gorgeous.

  “You didn’t go to Seattle,” she says in amazement.

  “I did.” I say, not believing that she’s here in my arms. “I came back.”

  Her eyes widen and she tightens her legs around me. She feels light as a feather in my arms. I feel her shiver against me.

  “Let’s go in,” I say softly.

  “What, and ruin this Notebook moment?!” She says with mock horror on her face. The rain is pouring down on both of us and we’re both soaked through. I laugh and turn around to carry her through the door. I set her down gently outside the elevator. When the door dings open I back her into it, kissing her in short, soft kisses until her back is pressed against the back wall.

  I turn to press the button and as soon as the doors close I’m back to her, showering her with kisses, pressing her body against the wall. I can feel the firmness of her tits against my chest and my cock, already hard from the moment I saw her, strains against my pants.

  The door of the elevator glides open and we stumble out, rushing towards my apartment door. I fumble with the keys, my hands numb from the cold rain outside.

  “You never sold your place?” She asks as I finally get the key in.

  “I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” I open the door and let her in.
She spins around and steps towards me as I close the door behind me. I wrap my arms around her body, clothing soaked through from the rain. My hand drifts up to her cheek and I stroke it gently.

  “I was miserable the whole time I was in Seattle, Val. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Me too,” she whispers. “I tried to get over you but I couldn’t.”

  I tilt her chin up and bring my face down to meet hers. Our lips meet again and it’s like the first time. Sparks fly between us as our lips dance together. This is more than a kiss, it’s an embrace, it’s passion in its purest form. It’s Love.

  I pull my lips away again and stare into her deep blue eyes. They’re sparkling in a way I’ve never seen before.

  “Val, I never meant to hurt you. I can tell you everyth -“ she puts her hand up to my lips to quiet me.

  “No talking now,” she says. “We can talk after.”

  And then, wordlessly, I see the vision I’ve been dreaming of every night and every day for three months. She brings her hands to her shirt hem and pulls it overhead, and then quickly strips herself of her bra and pants. She’s standing in front of me in nothing but tiny pink underwear and I reach towards her.

  She claws at my clothing, tearing my shirt off overhead and then attacking my pants. Her hands are frantic, searching, relentless. My hands roam all over her skin, cold from the rain but warming under my touch. I leave no part of her body untouched. My hands explore her like I’ve never touched her before. Our lips find each other and we devour each other.

  She lets her hands drift all over me and every touch sends sparks directly down to my cock. I can’t wait till the bedroom, I pick her up and lay her down on the soft carpet below us. My body is over hers and she wraps her arms around me once again. My legs straddle hers and she spreads them wider, tilting her hips up so that my cock is pressed against her.

  I grind myself against her and a deep moan escapes her lips. That noise sends a shiver down my spine and straight to my cock. I feel ready to explode already, but I won’t. Not until I give her the best orgasm of her life.