Except I have a feeling next time definitely won’t be any time soon. They call that shit birth control for a reason, and right now I don’t feel anything like I have this fucking birth stuff under control.
I’m sitting on my giant leather couch with my head resting on the back, my arms and legs slack as I stare at the ceiling. Lucas is in the matching recliner across from me, looking straight up amused. I guess I deserve it for all the crap I usually give him.
“And cranky, too. Either it’s that time of the month or something else is going on.” He leans back, linking his hands behind the back of his head. “I assume it’s the reason you begged me to leave my beautiful wife home alone to babysit your sorry ass.”
“I never beg, asshole.” I love the guy like a brother, but he knows he can give me shit. It’s how we communicate. We give each other a hard time, but at the end of the day we always have the other’s back.
I’ve been so caught up in my own goddamn head about everything I thought I could use someone to talk to. Am I ready to hear it all out loud again? I know if I’m going to tell someone, though, Luc is the only person I trust.
Will he give me crap about it? Damn straight. But at least he won’t judge.
Luc lets me sit in silence for a few minutes longer, understanding I’ll talk when I’m ready.
Without lifting my head, I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose with my right hand. I hate drawing shit out, so let’s get this over with. “Man, I screwed up. I fucked Kelley Brooks at your wedding and now she’s fucking pregnant.”
After a moment of silence all I hear is Luc mutter his own, “Fuck.”
I drop my hand and let out a deep breath. “Yeah.”
I hear Lucas shift forward in the recliner. “That’s what this is about.”
Lucas nods to the unopened bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the coffee table between us. He must have seen it as soon as he came in, but he knows me well enough to guess it wouldn’t be sitting here without a significant reason.
I swallow thickly, but don’t respond. I don’t have to.
Luc changes the subject. “What happens now? Are you two, like, together?”
I lift my head. “No.” I don’t know what the hell we are. “But I respect her and nobody else knows anything yet so this is between us. I don’t think she’s even told Kinsley, so not a word.”
“How does Kelley feel about it?”
“She says she’s fine and she’ll figure out how to deal with it on her own, but I’m sure as hell not going to walk away. I may not know the first thing about parenting, but I learned one or two things not to do, and ignoring your kid is pretty high at the top of that list.” I plop my head back down. “Even though I’ll still probably fuck it up. Kelley’s life, and the kid’s.”
Luc contemplates a thought. “Just because your parents were shitty doesn’t mean you will be, too. We already know you don’t subscribe to their particular brand of bullshit.”
My mother, Holly Blake, is your quintessential rich, superficial snob, caring only about appearances and perceptions. Growing up, as long as people thought we were the perfect family, that was all that mattered. If she refused to acknowledge a problem, then it simply didn’t exist. And believe me, my sister and I were nothing but problems. When my dad walked out when we were kids, leaving my mom to deal with us on her own, she pretended everything was fine. He didn’t want to deal with us, and she chose to ignore everything, which is exactly why I try to be honest and straightforward now. It might be harsh, but it beats being fake or afraid like them. With a lot of self-determination I managed to turn my life around, but our relationship has always been fucked up. I’m civil with my mom for my sister Hazel’s sake, but I mainly keep to myself.
“That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m immune from the Blake DNA either. Commitment isn’t our strong suit . . . unless it’s something self-destructive, that is.”
Lucas leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been sober for ten years, Ry. That’s a pretty big fucking commitment if you ask me. What makes you think you won’t have the same determination when it comes to your own kid?”
“Yeah, and it only took about two days after finding out I’m going to be a father before I went out and bought this fucking thing.” I motion toward the bottle of Jack, feeling frustrated. Mainly at myself for being so weak.
Lucas pushes himself to his feet and grabs the bottle off the table. He holds it in his hand and stares at it intently. He shifts his eyes to me and shrugs matter-of-factly. “But you didn’t drink it.”
He casually tosses the bottle in my lap and heads to the door.
Right before he lets himself out, he adds, “I know you’ll do the right thing.”
I’m left alone to stare at the bottle.
Fuck, I just wish I knew what that is.
I think back to my tenth birthday, the last time I saw my father.
My mom threw this huge party—complete with magicians, face painters, and a waterslide—which, looking back, should have been the first sign something was wrong. She always overcompensates with some fake ass “Look How Popular and Rich I Am” party when she knows damn well her life is superficial and empty. I remember thinking I was the coolest little shit that day, oblivious to anything going on around me.
After we had cake and opened presents I wanted to show my dad the remote control car I got and went inside to find him. When I got to my parent’s bedroom door I overheard them talking. My mom said something about by him leaving her alone to deal with his kids and he responded that he didn’t care and we weren’t his problem anymore. He said he couldn’t stand her and their life together was a mistake and he was going to move on without us.
As he left the room, suitcase in hand, smelling like the same bottle of bourbon he always drank, he passed me without saying a word. I called for him from the top of the stairs just as he reached the front door, but he never looked back. My mom came out of the room a minute later, also walked right past me, and went downstairs to talk to some of the guests like nothing ever happened. From that point on any time my sister or I tried to mention him, she would mumble something about a business trip and change the subject. Eventually we stopped asking.
Years later I realized what a selfish bastard my father was and knew I would never choose to have a family if it meant I was going to be anything like him. I still can’t comprehend how he could just leave. My mom may have her own problems, but no woman deserves to be treated like that. I might not picture a future with any of the girls I fuck, but I make sure they know that so there are no mistakes and no regrets.
And now that I’m faced with this impossible situation with Kelley, I’m scared to fucking death I’ll turn out just like dear old dad anyway.
Fuck. My. Life.
Kelley
Six Weeks
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I thought you just said you’re pregnant with Ryan Blake’s baby, but I must seriously need my hearing checked.”
Kinsley stares at me, looking doubtful. I nod, trying to hold back tears. Damn, these hormones need to chill.
Kinsley’s eyes soften as she looks wistfully at my stomach. “Well, I guess that explains why you look different. You’re glowing.”
She smiles but I can’t help but answer dryly, “I’m bloated.”
She leans forward and pats my stomach playfully. “Aww, you’re already growing a bump!”
I swat her hand away. “No, it’s just a blump.” I slink down in one of her kitchen chairs. “It’s only been a few weeks and I already feel like a bloated cow.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“Beats me. My first appointment is in two weeks.”
Kinsley sits in her own chair across from me, looking eager as she rests her chin in her hands.
I mimic her pose, looking a little less thrilled. “Ugh, what am I going to do, Kins?”
“Live happily ever after?” She raises an eyebrow and smirks playfully.
>
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, except for one minor detail.”
“What’s that?”
“Um, the fact that Ryan is not exactly Prince Charming?” I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest.
Kinsley questions, “Are you sure about that? Seems to me like it might be fate . . .”
The word fate makes my stomach roll. “No, this is fate’s way of telling me to go screw myself. In fact, if I had stuck to that I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.”
Kinsley smiles suggestively. “I dunno, Kell. I always thought there was something between you two.”
I eye her, unamused. “I liked you better when you were cynical.”
Kinsley laughs before getting up to put water in the teakettle. Once she fills it and adjusts the knob on the stovetop, she turns back to face me. “In all seriousness, did you talk to Ryan? What did he say?”
“I told him I didn’t expect anything from him, but he said he wants to help. I’m just not sure what that means. We had an agreement that it was only going to be one night together. I don’t think we should let it go beyond that.”
Kinsley rests her hands on the counter behind her. “I don’t think you really have a choice at this point. Like it or not you’ll always be connected to him now. I mean it’s not like you can expect to never see him again.”
I know Kinsley is right, but I like pretending this can be simple. The fact remains Ryan Blake is not some complete stranger I can ignore. When word gets out he’s the father, I don’t know that I can take people thinking I am just another notch in his belt . . . one that was stupid enough to get herself knocked up by a man who told her the deal up front. One night, and one night only. Meaningless sex and nothing more. God, I’ll seem like a complete idiot. I can kiss Mr. Right goodbye forever . . . nobody will want me now.
“Look, I don’t know what I’m going to do about it, but promise me you won’t say anything? I mean it, Kins, you can’t even tell Luc. I need to figure out what I’m going to do, first.”
Kinsley pours some of the now boiling water into a mug and sets it in front of me. “I promise, but sooner or later it’s going to have to come out.”
I twist the paper at the end of the tea bag in my fingers. I know she’s talking about the secret and the not the actual baby, but I respond with, “I know, but hopefully in nine months I’ll have a better plan.”
Eight Weeks
Ryan and I pull up to the Women’s Health Center at 9:50 am. My appointment is at 10, and Ryan showed up at my doorstep at 9:30. Our conversation went a little something like this:
Me: *irked* “I thought I told you to meet me at the clinic?”
Ryan: *shrugs* “I decided to drive you.”
Me: *hands on my hips* “You know I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself.”
Ryan: *cocky, amused smirk* “I know.”
And then he held open the passenger door to his truck as if there was no point arguing. Polite jerk.
I’m confused enough about our relationship . . . or lack of one . . . without him pretending to care. It doesn’t help I am feeling extra anxious today, which translates to me being extra bitchy. Ryan and I haven’t seen each other much the past couple weeks, even though he checks on me via text. When he asks how I’m feeling I want to scream at the phone “What do you care?!” but I actually find it incredibly sweet, so I end up feeling even more confused than ever.
Once inside I give my name to the receptionist and she hands me a clipboard of paperwork to fill out. Ryan and I both glance around the waiting room at the three other women already seated: A blond who looks like she’s barely eighteen with a stomach as round as a beach ball, a middle-aged brunette looking frazzled with a toddler at her feet and a hand on her swollen stomach, and a dark-haired girl nursing a newborn. I make my way over to one of the empty chairs, but Ryan hangs back, chewing nervously on a piece of gum. He looks uncomfortable as he leans against the wall next to me.
“Aren’t you going to sit down?” I motion toward the empty seat next to me.
The newborn starts to cry, and Ryan looks like he’s about ready to pass out. “Nah, I’m good.”
I shrug and begin filling in the forms. “Suit yourself.”
I scribble the pen across the paper when Ryan suddenly blurts out, “Your middle name is Sunshine?” He lets out a loud chuckle as he looks over my shoulder.
I move to hold the clipboard to my chest, shielding the rest of the information from his view. “Shut up.”
He grins and looks like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t.
I stare up at him. “What?”
“Nothing. I like it.”
A nurse opens the door across from us. “Ms. Brooks? We’re ready for you.”
Ryan pushes himself off the wall and nods toward the doorway as he tries to contain a smile. “Come on, Sunshine.” He still looks adorably amused, and the fact I think he’s cute makes me want to throw up.
I choose instead to roll my eyes and slam the clipboard into his chest as I breeze past.
The nurse looks at Ryan and then to me before hesitantly asking, “Would you like your . . . husband to join?”
I look at Ryan who just gives me a shit-eating grin. The hot bastard is enjoying this.
I smile sweetly at the nurse. “Sure. But he’s not my husband. He’s just the sperm donor.” The nurse looks uncomfortable and confused. Ryan flashes her a charming smile as she leads us into exam room three.
The nurse grabs a paper gown and places it on the exam table. “You can remove your pants and underwear and drape this over your lap.” I stare at the gown. I thought they’d only need to see my stomach? As if sensing my hesitancy, she explains, “A transvaginal ultrasound gives us a clearer picture this early on.” She lets us know the doctor will be in soon and closes the door behind her as she leaves.
I grab the gown and stare at Ryan, who makes no move to leave. I give him a look.
He eyes me from head to toe. “What? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
“And it’s nothing you’re ever going to see again.” I twist my index finger to indicate he needs to turn around. He grunts, but obeys.
Once I’m finished, Ryan and I wait in the small room without saying anything else. He looks skeptically at the speculum sitting on the counter while I try to get comfortable, the stupid paper coverings making obnoxiously loud crinkling sounds.
After what feels like hours, there is finally a knock at the door before the doctor walks in, introducing herself. “Hi Kelley, I’m Doctor Conners. Let’s see what we’ve got going on in here, shall we?” She points to my stomach, smiling at both Ryan and I excitedly.
Glancing at my chart, she starts to go over some of my information, confirming things like my age, the fact I don’t smoke, and the date of my last period. Ryan smirks, enjoying this way too much, and just when I think the personal questions are over, Dr. Conners studies the chart more closely. “And I see here that you had a miscarriage about seven years ago?” Her voice gets soft and she looks at me sympathetically. Ryan’s smile immediately fades. I’m not sure how to read the expression that passes over his features, so I avoid eye contact and simply nod.
Thankfully Dr. Conners doesn’t ask anything else, and proceeds to wash her hands, put on a pair of gloves, and grab a bottle of gel from the counter. She motions for Ryan to stand beside me and has me scoot down as she lifts a wand attached to a cord, slathers on some lube, and ducks her hand under the drape. She fiddles with a few knobs on the cart next to her with her free hand, adjusting a small screen so that both Ryan and I can see.
After a few painfully long, silent moments a black and white blob flickers onto the screen. It looks like nothing but splotchy shadows, but it instantly captivates me. Ryan shifts closer to get a better look.
It’s in this moment that I feel an odd mixture of joy and sadness. Up until now this life inside me felt somewhat abstract or intangible, like the doctor might say, “Pregnant? No way. You just need
to lay off the cheeseburgers.” But now I see, in plain black and white, just how real this really is. Jake and I never got to see an ultrasound before I lost the baby, and I realize that may have been for the best. I’m overcome by such a sense of wonder that I am now solely responsible for growing, raising, and protecting an entire person that I’m terrified by the thought something bad might happen. And when I realize just how lonely it will be not to have someone who loves me to share this with, I feel a sharp sting in my throat.
I feel Ryan’s fingers brush against my shoulder. The way he drapes his arm over the back of the table is so damn casual it might be accidental, but I’m grateful for the contact. It brings me back to the present moment so I can focus on what Dr. Conners is saying.
“Hope you don’t mind a Spring baby. It looks like you’re due May 9th. Everything else is looking good so far, so we’ll schedule you for your next appointment in about five to six weeks.” She removes the wand and her gloves before handing Ryan and I each a small, printed picture. I see Ryan casually slip his into his back pocket. The doctor lets me know I can get changed before she exits the room. Ryan pauses before gesturing toward the door. “I guess I’ll wait for you out there.”
I nod, and once he leaves I allow myself a brief moment to stare at the picture in my hand. I wipe a single tear that’s slid down my cheek before tucking the photo into my purse and standing to get dressed.
Ryan
The drive back to Kelley’s place is quiet. I put the car in park and, without saying anything, open the passenger door and follow her into the building. Once inside her apartment she puts her keys and bag on the kitchen counter as I lean against the opposite side.
Neither of us know what to say, so I decide to break the ice. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
Kelley lets out a deep breath, not needing an explanation of what I’m talking about. “What’s the point? It was a long time ago.”
I can tell she has so much sadness pent up inside her that I should drop it, but I fucking want to know more. “Is that why you haven’t had a relationship all this time?”
Mad Addiction (Crazy Beautiful #2) Page 4