My mind whirs with a thousand thoughts. I’m a planner by nature. I’ve already begun to create mental checklists of things that need to be done or bought before the birth of the baby. I’m about to open my mouth to start belting off the list when Andie lets out a big yawn and shoves more bread in. She’s texting someone—who I assume is Dani—as fast as she can one-handed, because God forbid she let that bread go. My smile widens.
She’s so fucking pretty when her guard is down. When she lets happiness shine through. But she’s also tired. Dark circles paint the flesh below her eyes. Her normally shiny hair is slightly duller today. And her shoulders are hunched. This kid has barely begun to grow, and she’s already fatigued. My gut tells me to demand she stay at home to take care of herself during her pregnancy. But my mind knows she’d castrate me if I put her on an extended leave. I’ll just have to be more aware of how she’s doing.
“I think something’s wrong with Dani,” she says suddenly and looks up. Her blue eyes are strained. Those two women are as close as can be—it’s written all over her face. I’ve seen the torment in my own eyes when Ram’s not been himself, flirting with depression. It’s the worry of one sibling over the other. I’m happy Andie has Dani to lean on as if she were a sister. Unlike myself who has a brother and a sister, Andie has no one.
“Why do you say that?”
She frowns and looks down at her phone before showing it to me.
Dani: 9 weeks…awesome.
Arching an eyebrow, I give her a look of confusion. “Why do you think something’s wrong with her?”
Andie huffs. “Because she’s Miss Explanation Point always. This is a big deal for me. Normal Dani would be squealing or sending me a thousand exclamation points or sending me a bunch of those heart-eyed emojis.”
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Maybe she’s distracted at work?”
Guilt causes her lips to tug into a frown. “I miss working side by side with her.”
I reach across the table and take her hand. “I’m sure she’s just having a bad day. Maybe,” I tease, “her finger slipped and she hit the period by mistake.”
Unconvinced, she tugs her hand away and starts rapid-fire texting. When she finishes, she shows me.
Andie: Everything okay? I’m worried about you. I can tell you’re upset. Tell me what’s wrong. Who do I have to kill? I can kick Ram’s ass if necessary. Is it Frank from work? Tell that cocksucker to go find some other poor sap to do his errand running! Seriously. Who do I have to kill? It’s not Daryl bothering you, is it? Because if it’s him…Ram will kill him for you. Babe…tell me what’s wrong. Are you mad I’ll be a fat heifer standing next to you at your wedding? Cows can be cute, though…don’t hate. I love you to the mooooooon and back.
While she’s holding her phone out for me to read, Dani replies.
Dani: I’m fine. So happy for you.
When Andie brings her phone back to her eyes to read the text, she bursts into tears. “S-S-Something is wrong,” she sobs. “She’s upset.”
Ignoring the irritated scowls from a couple of old ladies at a nearby table, I climb out of my seat, walk around the booth and slide in next to her. I pull her against me and kiss her head. “We’ll make it a quick lunch and then give her a call on the way back to the office. She’s excited for you. You know this. Maybe she’s just busy. Think about all those times you would get slammed at the bank and ignore my texts.”
She snorts. “I ignored your texts because you were an asshole.”
I wrap my finger around a lock of her hair and give it a playful tug. “I’m still an asshole. And you still like me.”
Her chin lifts, and she turns her head to look up at me. “Nah, I hate you.” The amusement twinkling in her teary eyes has me chuckling.
“No you don’t. You’ve fallen in love with my massive baby-making cock.”
She giggles. “I do hate you. And I do not love your cock. It’s okay. Like, you know how donuts taste so good straight from the bakery? But the next day, they’re just like sort of okay, but you eat them anyway. Your cock is a day-old donut.”
“More like a thick, cream-filled éclair,” I retort. “Super long too. You can’t deny it.”
“Ew,” she says, pretending to shove a finger in her throat. “Stale, more like it.”
Smirking, I give her tit a playful pinch through her shirt. “It’s hard. I’ll give you that.”
“You’re disgusting, Roman,” she hisses and sends a punch to my ribs.
I grab her by the wrist before she can exact any more damage and bring her knuckles to my lips. “You like it.”
Her eyes are all soft and dreamy despite the hard words she likes to spit out. I love that her wall is no longer erect—that it’s a pile of rubble at my feet. Good fucking riddance, wall.
“I hate you,” she tells me with absolutely no venom in her voice. “I really do.”
I kiss her ring finger and make a silent promise with my eyes to mark her here too. “I know and frankly, my dear Andie,” I tell her with a growl. “I don’t give a rat’s ass.”
My lips smash to hers, and I kiss her like we’re the only two people in the restaurant. I ignore the gasps of the offended old ladies nearby and even the throat clearing of our server as he sets the plates down on our table.
I simply kiss her until her lips are swollen and raw. I kiss her until we’re both hungry for more than the food on this table.
“Eat up, baby momma,” I order and give her a wink. “My son is hungry.”
The flash of pleasure that glimmers in her eyes at my words is enough to start working on my mental checklist. I will make sure Andie hurts for nothing. I will make sure she doesn’t lift a damn finger. I will make sure she and this baby feel every bit of the love I know I can give them.
“We don’t know the sex,” she argues, her lips turning up in a full grin.
I puff out my chest and give her a smoldering stare. “It’s a boy. Sometimes a man just knows these things.”
She rolls her eyes as she drags her gigantic bowl of fettuccini toward her. “And sometimes a man knows nothing. Especially you. It’s a girl.”
I smirk as she slurps up a long noodle and lets out a moan of pleasure. With my thumb, I swipe away some sauce at the corner of her mouth.
“Want to make a bet?” I challenge.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Game on. If I win, you’re changing diapers for a straight week.”
“And if I win?”
“You get whatever you want.” Her smug tone indicates she thinks she’s already won the bet.
“Deal,” I tell her as we shake on it. “I’ll start thinking about what I want.”
What I don’t tell her is that I already have everything I want. And she’s sitting right beside me.
That Big Headed Asshole
One week later…
“I SWEAR, YOU JUST LOVE getting a good laugh at my expense,” Dani huffs, sipping on her glass of merlot.
I, on the other hand, can’t catch my breath long enough to respond. “I’m… I… Shit.” I break down into another fit of laughs. We’re currently at Bender’s after Dani called me and told me I needed to meet her there ASAP for some heavy day drinking and celebrating. Roman’s busy anyway, so he won’t miss me if I take a longer lunch. My initial thought about Dani’s excitement was that Ram knocked her up and we get to have babies together. I wouldn’t have to do this all alone. But when she went into her story, I realized that not only was she not pregnant, but she’s been using her set of steel balls too.
“Now what’s her problem?”
I lift my head to see Brett standing across the bar, tossing that damn towel over his shoulder and wearing that dumb smirk on his face.
“Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean,” I snap, my laughter instantly dying. “And why are you looking at me like that again?”
“It means you’re an unpredictable bet,” he tells me simply. “Not sure what I’m gonna get with you.”
I sit up
straighter, absolutely no humor showing. “And exactly what does that mean?”
“Babe, last time you were in here, you started throwing silverware at me because you thought I gypped you on fries. And then, you cried because I put a drink in front of your friend here, and not you.” He shrugs his shoulders, wiping his hands on his towel. “You’re unpredictable. Crazy. You kind of fucking scare me actually.”
Now it’s Dani’s turn to bend over laughing.
“Stop laughing!” I yell as I kick her stool.
“No can do.” She giggles, lifting her head and giving Brett a high five.
“Hey, stop that! You’re supposed to be on my side, not his!” I bark, getting mad because he did gyp me on fries. I finished them in, like, three seconds. There was no way I could have done that if he’d given me a full plate.
“Well you did gyp me. And I still think you owe me an extra side next time.” I cross my arms over my ridiculously growing chest.
“But,” he says with narrowed eyes, “how about the other day when you tried to bite me when I went to remove your empty plate?” He stares me down as if he has made some sort of point or something.
“What about it? You stuck your hand out aggressively. I was trying to protect myself. You’re huge and beefy. A girl’s gotta be on watch,” I say, returning his shoulder shrug.
“So then telling me you still had crumbs and to fuck off was just a ploy to protect your female rights?”
I mean, I would go with that. “Yep.”
Brett’s stupid grin starts breaching his tough features as he slowly leans over the bar.
“All right, then. How about I make it up to you? Ice cream with double hot fudge and a cherry on top?” he rumbles, his voice low and seductive.
My lips part, my mouth watering at the thought of cold ice cream under layers of silky hot fudge.
“Would you like that?” he asks, beginning to tap his fingers on top of the bar.
My head slowly nods. Not only do I want that, but I am seconds away from grabbing him by his thick neck and threatening his life if it’s not in front of me in the next two seconds.
“Then how about you finally spill who the baby daddy is, and it’s all yours, darlin’.”
I go to smack him while Dani begins another cackle of laughter. Ever since last week, when I blurted out that I was pregnant, Brett has been all up in my business with his curiosity about who the father is. He’s also jokingly trying to convince me it could be his.
Speaking of this past week, minus my insane mood swings and hormonal imbalance, it’s been awesome. Roman has been perfect. Patient. He hasn’t once commented on my sudden need to eat, cry, or sleep. If anyone asked my opinion, I wouldn’t recommend ever intentionally getting pregnant. They definitely make it seem a lot easier on TV. They never mention the crabbiness or bloating. The unstable mood swings and the quick wardrobe changes. I mean, I can’t fit into shit! But for some reason, Roman must be just as crazy as I am, because he’s put up with me. We haven’t been able to spend our lunches together, like we did the first week, since he’s been so busy, but we spend our nights together. We match one another on gross baby facts, which I wish were never spoken, or promises that if I get fat, he will along with me. I mean, who says that!? My guy does.
“Dude, not telling you. And for the last time, it’s not you. Stop asking.”
“You sure? That one night you and I…?” he kids with a boyish smirk.
“Ugh! There is no us! I wasn’t that drunk that night. I know you’re fucking with me. Plus, I wouldn’t touch your nasty ass with a ten-foot pole after you let that hooker whore suck on your nob.”
Brett belts out laughing. “Well speaking of—”
“Oh my God! Stop, you two,” Dani interrupts. “I was trying to explain my day before Andie kept rudely laughing.”
With a shrug, Brett turns to Dani, all ears open.
“Thank you. So obviously, as you guys know, this past week has been hell.” Which it was. My poor girl is getting a beating ever since my departure from the bank. When we left lunch last week, I couldn’t let the text message lie. I made Roman drive me to the bank to see what was up with my girl. And, low and behold, the normal cocksuckers were being cocksuckers. Poor Dani was slammed to the wall with bank customers while stupid Frank had his Next Window sign in his window.
“So all week I tried to keep my mouth shut. Be the nice, polite Dani I always am. But today I had it. I snapped. I never snap.” She pauses to take a healthy gulp of wine, then continues, “And well, Ram has been telling me to leave that place forever. To just tell them to, excuse my French, go fuck themselves and do what makes me happy. He tells me all the time that I don’t have to work. He can support me. But that’s just silly. I want us both to care for one another.” She pauses again, her cheeks becoming flushed.
“Ew! Please do not share what you’re thinking,” I interject.
“Ew, what?”
“You have that daydream look. Let me guess, it went like this, ‘Oh Ram, thank you for being my knight in shining armor. Now let’s do nasty things to one another’.”
Dani begins to giggle, knowing I’m fucking right. Ew. Those two are so perfect, it’s sick. And cute. And fucking perfect.
“Are you going to let me finish telling my story to Brett or what?” She offers me her cute little pouty look. I nod, placing my hands in my lap like an obedient friend.
“Okay! So, as I was saying, today I had it. Ram’s advice weighed heavily on my mind all day. My manager was being a jerk to no end. And all I could think about was how I could be somewhere I loved instead of there. I was wasting my life being miserable, when I could be happy some. Place. Else! So, I told Mr. Sphincterson he was a no good, fat, bad breathed, sloppy, poor excuse for a boss. And then I quit. When Frank started griping about being shorthanded, I stuck my tongue out at him. Ha! Then I walked over to JC Penney’s and applied for a job. And I GOT IT!” She finishes on a squeal as she picks up her wine, gulping down the rest of the glass.
I’m still laughing about the part where she called Harold a fat fucker, which he his, so it takes a minute for the rest of her story to register. As she exclaims that she got a job at a department store, like it’s the best thing on earth, I proceed to choke on the sip of water I am taking and spit it out, hitting Brett in the chest.
“You what?”
“I got a job at JC Penney’s. I told them I am a pro at folding towels and the hiring manager was just so pleased. I even offered to demonstrate, which they allowed!” She smiles so big while I stare at her as if she’s turned into an alien.
“You’re serious right now? I thought that was just like a weird thing you enjoyed. I didn’t know it was a career goal,” I tell her, super confused right now.
“Well, now it’s my job. So you can congratulate me, and we can celebrate over a hot fudge sundae or you can eat it all alone while I sit here and drink more.”
My expression hardens immediately.
I clearly have no intentions of sharing that sundae.
“Oh goodness, I don’t want the sundae. I just want wine. Today, wine is good,” Dani says as she taps her glass at Brett.
Brett fills her glass to the brim. “Proud of ya, darlin’. This one’s on me, since crazy over there doesn’t look like she’s going to share or admit that it’s my baby.”
Dani laughs and takes a sip of wine while I lift my water, ready to toss it at him. He’s lucky a waitress comes over and places a large sundae in front of me, avoiding future head trauma from my glass. He seems completely unfazed, too, as he simply laughs at me.
“Don’t worry, babe, it wouldn’t be the first time this week someone threw a glass at me. Your bestie was here the other day trying to hook up. Asked her if she wanted my dick again. Didn’t appreciate me saying it in front of her date. Threw her glass right at me. Bitch has good aim.”
Since my bestie is right next to me, I lift a brow in question. “And who the fuck is my bestie?” I ask, shoveling ice cr
eam into my mouth.
“Your girl you set up. The one who fucked with your man,” he says as he points to Dani.
My eyes go wide, and I choke on my full spoon.
“Chelsea was in here?” Dani asks.
“Yeah. Real bitch. Seems like my bar is a new stomping ground for your whole gang now.”
Seriously, what the fuck is he talking about?
“Dude, I don’t speak in bro code. Get to the point. Who else did you see?”
“The other guy you two were with. The big dude. He was here with a chick on Wednesday for lunch.”
The words leave his mouth, but it takes a second for my brain to catch up. Big dude… The other guy we were with… Fucking Roman.
“He…he was here with Chelsea?” I’m confused. He wouldn’t do that to me. He’s committed to me. To us. He’s done nothing but work to convince me, since the moment I broke down a piece of my wall, that he is willing to fight for us. Brett has to be wrong.
“No, Chelsea came by, but not with him. The other guy was with some blonde chick. Fuckin smokin’. They ordered burgers and drinks but barely touched them, then left together. Jealous. Man, that bitch had a set of tits on her.”
Tits.
Roman’s MO.
He apparently would do this to me.
“Honey, I’m sure he has a good reason.” Dani tries to pat my shoulder. More like pet it since she is on her third glass. No good reason amounts to justifying a lie. And no matter what he says to me, he lied. He said he was swamped with lunch meetings all week. Especially on Wednesday when Suzy, the tramp home wrecker, came in to give him a message which came through on Reagan’s line.
I asked him if I needed to schedule anything, and he said he would take care of it. Because he didn’t want me to see it.
That fucking lying, cheating…
“Oh no, you’re turning red. You need to calm down,” Dani pleads.
Calming down is far from what’s on my agenda. That bigheaded asshole. I grab for my phone and pull it out. I’m going to set him up. Give him the opportunity to tell me the truth.
Hate 2 Lovers Page 7