Wreck Me: An Older Man, Younger Woman Standalone Romance

by Lane Hart

  Wow, it’s already August thirty-first? The month is flying by and tomorrow is the first day of September, which means I’ve been here for four weeks.

  Suddenly, I’m even more struck by the date.

  Scrolling backwards through the months to May, I realize that the date of my last birth control shot was more than three months ago.

  Shit! I completely forgot that I needed to find a gynecologist here to get another one.

  Then, when I try to calculate when my period is due, I realize that I’m…more than a week late.

  Fuck!

  This can’t be happening. It’s probably just the shot making my periods crazy. But if it’s not…

  How could I have been so damn stupid and irresponsible?

  Maybe my dates are just a little off and I’m panicking for nothing. I need to get a test ASAP to find out for sure.

  “Anything?” Brody asks, sticking his head back in the office.

  “What?” I ask him in confusion.

  “Appointments tomorrow?”

  “Oh, eleven and three,” I tell him, checking again to make sure.

  “You okay? You look a little pale,” he says with his brow furrowed.

  “Oh, um, about that time of the month,” I say. “Would you mind letting me stop by the pharmacy on the way home? I’ll just run in real quick and grab what I need.”

  “Yeah, of course,” he answers. “We can go to the one in the shopping center with the La Bamba if you want Mexican food tonight?”

  “Sounds great,” I say, forcing a smile on my face, even though the thought of food makes me feel queasy. Which reminds me, I felt the same way at the fundraiser Saturday morning but thought it was just the heat. And then yesterday morning, I woke up nauseous too, but thought that was because of the stressful conversation with Brody and him not coming to bed the night before.

  While Brody walks over to pick up our dinner, I’ll take a test to see if I’m pregnant. And if I am, oh God. Brody is not going to be happy. Just two days ago, he was adamant about not wanting to be a father again!

  There’s no use getting all worked up until I know for sure, though.

  In the shopping center, which is just down the road from the studio, Brody parks in between the distance between the pharmacy and restaurant. He asks for my order and then he goes to the left as I go to the right. Rather than buy a test, wait to get home, then sneak in the bathroom to take it, I grab one from the shelf, pay for it at the register while evading Tom, the friendly owner’s, small talk as best I can, and then hurry back to the restroom to do it right now.

  Familiar with the directions from before, I pee on the stick and then busy myself with washing my hands while I wait.

  It doesn’t take long for the two bright pink lines to appear.

  Oh God.

  I’m pregnant. And I have no fucking idea how I’m going to tell Brody.

  …

  Brody

  “How’s your taco salad?” I ask Riley after she pushes the same piece of lettuce around with her fork for at least five minutes.

  “It’s good,” she replies. “Just not real hungry.”

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Yeah, of course,” she says, flashing a smile that disappears as quickly as it appeared. That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard it, and I hate seeing her look so sad, especially knowing what I need to tell her.

  I’ve put it off for days now and time is running out.

  “There’s something I need to tell you,” I say, causing Riley to look up at me across the table and drop her fork.

  “What’s up?” she asks.

  “I talked to Sara earlier this week,” I start.

  “Oh? How’s she doing?” she asks, just to be polite because I know she doesn’t care for my daughter. Not that I blame her after what I’ve heard Sara say about Riley.

  “She’s good. Actually, she has a few days off for Labor Day, and said she’s planning to come down this weekend.”

  “Oh,” Riley mutters. “Oh!” she repeats in understanding, her shoulders slumping even more. “You want me gone?”

  “Don’t say it like that,” I tell her. “It will just be easier if you stay at a hotel Friday night until Tuesday. Sara knows you’re working with me, but not that you live here.”

  “Yeah. Right, of course,” Riley replies. “Actually, I think I’m gonna go home.”

  “Home?” I say, confused, because I thought this was her home now.

  “I haven’t seen Cheryl in a while, so I could go stay at the apartment in my own bed instead of wasting money on a hotel.”

  “Okay,” I agree, even though I wanted her to stay nearby so I could see her whenever possible. “And I guess we should pack up your things, at least from the guest room, in case Sara sees it.”

  “Fine, I’ll get started now,” Riley says, jumping up from her chair and taking off down the hallway.

  “Riley, wait,” I tell her, putting my burrito down and getting up to follow her. “You don’t have to do it right now. Finish dinner, at least. We have the rest of the week!”

  “No, I want to do it now,” she says when I find her in the spare bedroom, pulling out boxes from the closet. “Actually,” Riley starts, setting the box down on the bed, “you don’t have many appointments this week, so I think I’m gonna go ahead and go home tonight.”

  “Tonight?” I exclaim, surprised by her urgency to leave. “No, Riley. It’s too late. At least wait until tomorrow…”

  When a tear slips down her cheek, I realize how upset she truly is about leaving.

  “Sweetheart, don’t cry. Just stay,” I beg her, going over to wrap her in my arms.

  “No, I need to go,” she says through her sobs, and then she pushes me away to gather more of her things.

  “Dammit, Riley. Would you just stop and talk to me?” I ask, stabbing my fingers through the front of my hair in frustration.

  “I want to go, you need me to go, what else is there to say?” she asks, swiping her fingers under each of her eyes to dry her tears.

  “How about you tell me why you’re crying?”

  “I dunno,” she replies with a shrug.

  “Is it because you’re upset I asked you to leave this weekend?” I ask.

  “Yes. No. I dunno,” she answers, covering her face with her palms.

  “This is what we agreed on,” I remind her. “The only way to make this work!”

  “I know,” she says.

  “So then what’s going on, Riley?” I ask, sitting down on the bed, waiting for her to talk to me.

  She doesn’t answer. Instead, she walks out of the room and goes upstairs. That’s when I realize that this is more serious than I thought, and she really is planning to walk out the door tonight.

  …

  Riley

  I don’t want to leave Brody, but with everything all jumbled in my head after finding out I’m pregnant, and then him pissing me off by kicking me out for Sara, I know I need to go. Back home, I can talk to Cheryl and try to figure out what the hell I’m gonna do.

  While I know I agreed to keep our relationship a secret from Sara, that doesn’t mean I like it. If anyone else was Brody’s daughter, I would just beg him to talk to her about us honestly. Not Sara. Of all the people in the world, she will never, ever, accept that the two of us are a couple. And therefore, Brody will never choose me over her. Not that I would ask him to. I may not like Sara but I wouldn’t take her father from her.

  My palm goes down to my lower belly as I think about his other son or daughter. He made it clear that he doesn’t want to be a father again, that he’s too old.

  God, what am I going to do?

  First, I’ll get home, and then I’ll be able to think things through clearly.

  “I’m not happy about this,” Brody grumbles from the doorway of his bedroom, as I go back to gathering my clothes from the closet and dumping them into my suitcase. “And she won’t see your things up here. They can stay.”

  �
��Better safe than sorry,” I mutter, unable to miss the irony of that statement. We weren’t safe. Brody was counting on me to take care of our birth control, and I let him down. Even with everything going on with moving and all, I still should have remembered I needed to get the freaking shot. Now everything is ruined.

  “It’s late. Just get your things packed and leave in the morning,” he says.

  “I’m not tired,” I reply. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep tonight. I’ll just toss and turn, when I could’ve been on the road, or back at my apartment coming up with a plan.

  “I won’t be able to sleep until I know you get back safely,” Brody says.

  “When I’m there, I’ll send you a text,” I tell him.

  “I won’t be able to sleep without you in my bed for a week,” he adds.

  “You’ll be fine,” I tell him, even though I know I’ll miss being in his arms at night. Especially after these last few weeks of getting so used to his warmth and comfort.

  “When are you coming back? Tuesday?” he asks.

  “I dunno,” I answer.

  “Are you trying to make me crazy?” Brody asks, making my lips quirk up.

  “No.” I finally stop packing look over at him. “I just need to go, and it seems like a good time.”

  “There’s never a good time for you to leave,” he says. “Should I…should I tell Sara not to come?”

  “No, Brody,” I answer on a sigh as I grab my underwear from a drawer and shove it in the front zipper of the suitcase. “You should spend time with her. I know that’s what you want.”

  “I want you, too,” he says softly.

  “I know,” I reply. “But that’s not how it works.”

  “Guess I’ll start loading up your things from the guest room into the car, then,” he offers.

  “Thanks,” I tell him with a small smile.

  Brody stands there, looking at me silently for several seconds, before he walks out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Brody

  Seeing my daughter on Friday afternoon is a nice relief from the previous three days of misery.

  Riley won’t answer my phone calls, but at least she returns my texts. Her answers are short and to the point, polite even, but they don’t tell me a damn thing. Like, what the fuck is going on with her.

  I know having Riley leave the house for a few days isn’t ideal, but I didn’t think she would be this upset about it. We agreed that keeping our relationship a secret was the only way we could make things work.

  By Saturday evening, Sara is already bored. There’s not much to do on the island and she doesn’t have her friends with her, like back in June.

  Although, Riley doesn’t seem to ever get tired of just soaking up the sun on the beach with me. We take runs and long walks together some mornings, and laze around in the surf during the afternoons we have free. It’s paradise, but apparently, it’s not for everyone.

  “Can we go out and do something tonight?” Sara asks as we sit in lounge chairs on the sand.

  “Sure,” I agree, happy that she just wants to spend time with me. Getting out of the house will help take my mind off of Riley for a little while. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Anywhere,” she says. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah, wherever you want to go,” I tell her.

  “I think I want Japanese,” she decides.

  “That works for me,” I agree. “And while we’re out, I’ll grab more sunscreen. I don’t want you to get burnt. Your skin’s not as dark as…” I barely catch myself from saying Riley. “Mine. You’re not as dark as me or as used to the beach sun.”

  “Sure, whatever. Anything that doesn’t involve sand is fine with me,” Sara replies, getting up from her chair and shaking out her towel. “I’ll go get ready.”

  “Great. I’ll be in soon,” I say as she starts back toward the stairs leading into the house.

  As soon as she’s out of sight, I pull up Riley’s number on my phone and try calling her.

  Of course, it rings and rings before going to her voicemail. After I hear the beep, I tell her, “Riley, it’s me again. Why won’t you answer your phone?” Sighing in frustration, I continue on. “I miss you and I just want to hear your voice. Please tell me you’ll be back on Tuesday. Call me. I love you. Bye.”

  Even though it’s only been a few days, nothing seems right without Riley by my side. The sky isn’t as blue, the great, wide ocean isn’t as magnificent, and I feel like I’m missing a piece of myself.

  Heading inside, I shower and get dressed while continuing to check my phone every few minutes. Finally, I get a text message from Riley. Although I would prefer to talk to her, it’s something. Four words, but at least they let me know I haven’t completely lost her, even if it’s starting to feel that way.

  I miss you, too.

  “I’m ready,” Sara calls out from downstairs so I put my phone away and jog down the stairs.

  “Are you okay?” she asks out of the blue.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I tell her.

  “You’ve been…off since I got here,” she points out, more perceptive than I gave her credit for.

  “Women problems,” I say, to see her reaction.

  “You mean you’re dating someone?” she asks, green eyes wide in surprise.

  “I am,” I reply honestly. “And things seem a little…shaky right now. I think she’s upset with me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it will be fine,” Sara says with a wave of her hand. “And I can’t imagine you would do anything to make someone angry.”

  “Not intentionally,” I agree. “Anyway, let’s go.”

  On the way to the door, Sara asks, “Can I meet her?” causing my feet to come to a stop.

  “You would want to meet her?” I ask in surprise.

  “Well, yeah. I need to see if she’s good enough for you, especially if she could be my stepmother someday,” she replies with a grin.

  God, I wish it was that easy.

  But if Sara finds out her potential stepmother is her age – actually, two months younger, since Riley’s birthday is in February and Sara’s is December – she would go ballistic.

  …

  Dinner is great, and Sara loved the Japanese steakhouse. With my thoughts all caught up in Riley, I almost drive us past the pharmacy before I remember we need sunscreen.

  “You want to wait in the car or come in?” I ask Sara when I get parked.

  “I’ll come in and pick out some junk food,” she says, opening her door to climb out.

  I go grab the sunscreen while Sara finds some snacks, and then we meet back up at the register.

  “Hey, Brody. How have you been?” Tom, the owner, asks as he rings us up.

  “Good, you?” I ask to be cordial, even though I’m not in a talkative mood.

  “Busy weekend, but I can’t complain since it’ll start slowing down after Monday.”

  “That’s true,” I agree as I pull out my wallet from the back pocket of my slacks.

  “How’s your girl Riley doing?” he asks, making me curse under my breath while pulling out a twenty-dollar bill.

  “My assistant is great. She’s gone home for the holiday weekend.”

  “Oh, is that right?” he asks, pausing in his scanning to eye me through the glasses on the end of his nose. “She looked upset the last time she was here, so I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I tell him, trying to brush it off so he’ll stop talking about her in front of Sara.

  “Well, are you gonna be a daddy or not?” he asks with a toothy grin.

  “Ah, what?” I ask in confusion. “I am a father. This is my daughter, Sara.” I gesture to her with my wallet and money in my hand.

  “Nice to meet you, doll,” Tom says to Sara, who smiles politely at him. “I guess I should’ve asked if you were gonna be a daddy again.”

  “Not planning on it,” I grumble, wishing he would hurry up and just tell me the damn total.r />
  “Oh, then the test was negative?” he asks.

  “What test?” I huff in frustration.

  “The pregnancy test Riley bought last week,” he says, looking at me like I’m an idiot.

  And apparently, I am.

  When understanding finally dawns on me, my wallet and the twenty slip from my hand and fall to the floor. Every muscle in my body becomes paralyzed as two words repeat like a broken record in my head --- pregnancy test.

  Riley took a pregnancy test last week?

  Then she got upset and took off.

  Either the test was negative and she was so freaked out by the scare that she left or…

  She’s pregnant.

  With my baby.

  “Dad?” Sara says when I remain unmoving. She bends down and picks up my wallet, and pays Tom for our things. As he offers her the plastic bag, she looks at my frozen state. “Dad? Are you okay?”

  “No,” I reply, making my feet move to leave the store. “No,” I repeat. I need to talk to Riley and figure out what the fuck is going on. Why didn’t she tell me?

  Oh shit.

  This is all my fault. Just days ago, I freaked out about whether or not she wanted kids, and made it clear that I didn’t. Does that mean…is she going to end it? That thought makes me want to spew sushi all over the sidewalk.

  “What was that guy talking about?” Sara asks when I stand outside the pharmacy with my back against the building, trying to get my shit together as I hyperventilate. “And what’s the matter? Are you surprised Riley got knocked up by some random asshole? You shouldn’t be. I told you, she’s a slut.”

  That snaps me out of my panic attack and into motion.

  Turning to my daughter, I point my finger, inches from her face. “If you ever use that word when talking about her again, I will slap it out of your mouth!”

  “Whoa, Dad. What is your problem?” Sara asks, taking a step backward on the sidewalk.

  “You don’t know anything about her!”

  “Neither do you,” she argues with a clenched jaw. “You should hear the rumors about her at school, all the guys she’s slept with. Seriously, everyone says she slept with the whole baseball team in one night!”