“What the hell is going on?”
Derrick recognized the voice as Aaron’s. He pivoted to his right just in time to take a fist to the face.
Derrick staggered backwards before regaining his balance. He raised a hand to the side of his face. “Impressive. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
Aaron looked wildly at Maggie, ignoring Derrick altogether. “I told you he was still in love with you, but you didn’t want to believe me. Tell her,” Aaron said, turning back to Derrick. “Tell her you love her. Tell her the truth.”
One corner of Derrick’s mouth tilted upward. “I don’t have to tell her anything.”
“Come on,” Aaron said, taking Maggie’s arm. “Let’s go. And you,” he said, turning to Derrick. “Get a new lawyer because this is the last you’re going to see of us.”
As she was led away by his friend, the guy he used to call his brother, Derrick looked at Maggie. Her eyes had a lost, sad look to them.
His hand fisted. He was angry with Aaron, but also angry with himself for not using more self-control. What the hell was wrong with him?
That same night Derrick sat in his big empty home and, for the first time since purchasing the eight thousand square foot hulk of a house two years earlier, he wondered what he’d been thinking. He had a big home, nice cars, everything people talked about wanting. He had a career he loved. And yet here he sat, staring out the large paned window, watching the rising tide, and wondering what the hell it was all for? The lights were off but the television was on, giving the room a soft glow and throwing odd-shaped shadows across the walls. He held an ice pack to the left side of his face.
Kissing Maggie had been a stupid move on his part, and yet if he were given the chance, he’d do it again. Aaron was just as much to blame. Aaron knew how he felt about Maggie. Hell, every guy in Arcadia had felt the same way about her. She was pretty and smart, and she was a flirt. Always had been, always would be. They all liked her, which was exactly the reason why they all took a solemn pledge to never take Maggie too seriously. In plain English: she was off limits.
Nothing, especially a female, his brothers had all agreed, would ever come between them. But Aaron obviously didn’t understand the meaning of a pledge. After Maggie left for college, they’d all swept their brow with relief. At least he had because he knew then what he knew now: he loved Maggie, and yet he had been willing to give up love over digging a trench between him and his brothers. He thought he’d made the big sacrifice, but now he could see he’d made the worst mistake of his life. He should have gone after Maggie years ago and told her how he felt. He never should have let her out of his sight.
Derrick let out a groan of frustration. He didn’t want to think about Maggie, or Aaron for that matter. His head pounded, prompting him to shift his thoughts to Ryan Michael Garrison.
He had a son, a son he had yet to hold.
On the day Ryan was born, a nurse had tried to place his son in his arms, but he’d made up some lame excuse, telling the nurse he had a scratchy throat and didn’t want to get the baby sick. The truth was he’d been scared, scared to hold his own son. Now that he thought about it though, he was much more frightened by the idea of never getting the chance to hold his son at all.
Outside the window, a wave crashed against the rocks. Derrick rose to his feet and looked around him. Determination filled him as he realized his son gave his life new meaning and purpose. He would fight for Ryan, and he wouldn’t stop fighting until he had half custody of his son.
Chapter Four
It was noon the next day by the time Jill staggered out of her bedroom and into the family room.
“You’re alive,” Sandy said.
“Barely.”
“Ryan kept you awake, huh?”
“Understatement of the year,” Jill said, dropping into the chair across from the couch where Sandy sat. “What have I done?”
“Taking care of a new baby is difficult in the beginning, but things will get better…easier.”
Jill shook her head. “You don’t understand. I don’t think Ryan likes me.”
“Of course he likes you,” Sandy said with a smile. “Having a new baby just takes getting used to.”
Jill blew pieces of straggly hair out of her eyes. “I need coffee.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea while you’re breastfeeding.”
“I’m not breastfeeding anymore.”
“Since when?”
“Sometime in the middle of the night. And now Ryan is sleeping. He hates me.” Jill dropped her face into the palms of her hands.
Sandy came to Jill’s side and patted her shoulder. “Oh, honey, he doesn’t hate you. Everything will be okay. I’ll make you some hot tea and scrambled eggs,” Sandy said as she headed for the kitchen.
“I never feel this way,” Jill said. “I feel so tired…and depressed. I’ve felt like crying ever since Ryan was born. What’s wrong with me?”
“He’s four days old. Give it some time.”
Jill could see her reflection in the window. Who was that woman looking back at her? What happened to Jill Garrison, the girl most likely to succeed in high school? What happened to the young vibrant woman who had boys flocking to be her escort at the cotillion in New York City?
Jill stood and curtsied. It was no use. At the ripe old age of twenty-eight she was all washed up.
“Are you okay?” Sandy asked when she peeked out from the kitchen at Jill.
Jill flopped back into her favorite chair. “I’m fine. Just fine.”
“Hormonal changes, a little postpartum depression, that’s what you have,” Sandy assured her. “Nothing’s wrong with you. After you eat, you’re going to take a shower. You’ll feel like a new woman in no time.”
Jill’s cell phone rang, but before she could answer it, the crying in the other room told her that her time was up. Ignoring the cell phone, she headed for the bedroom.
“It will get better,” Sandy called out. “I promise.”
Jill didn’t believe her. Sandy was just trying to comfort her. If Ryan would just let her sleep for thirty minutes straight, she was certain she could do this.
Just thirty minutes and everything would be fine.
Three hours later, after eating an egg and multi-tasking with a brisk walk around the park while returning phone calls, Jill felt mildly better. At least her hair was clean and she’d managed to brush and floss before Ryan started to cry again. Her baby had a set of lungs that no doubt came from his father’s side of the family.
Growing up had been a quiet experience because nobody in Jill’s family talked or interacted. On most days you could hear a pin drop. She and her sister were taught to keep their voices and emotions in check at all times. Children were meant to be seen, not heard. If she and her sister were caught being overly rambunctious, or laughing too loud, an uncommon occurrence, they were given ten minutes on the wooden chair.
Jill hovered over the crib for a moment and watched Ryan cry. What had her parents done when she cried as a baby? She had read many books on becoming a new mother. It scared her that she didn’t feel the instant bond the nurses at the hospital told her most mothers shared with their newborn babies. She didn’t feel a connection, but she wanted to—more than anything. For most of her life, she’d wanted a baby, but now, right this moment, she couldn’t remember why.
Her baby didn’t even look like her. Maybe she’d brought home the wrong baby. Her heart beat faster. She checked his tiny wristband, comparing the name and numbers to hers. They were a match. “What is it, Ryan? What’s wrong?”
She picked him up, kissed his tiny forehead, and breathed in baby powder along with his own baby scent. Then she headed into the family room where Sandy’s daughter, Lexi, sat on the floor drawing in a coloring book.
A few feet away, Sandy sat in an overstuffed chair with her legs curled beneath her. She was helping Jill write her monthly column.
Jill hoped someday she and Ryan would look so relaxed,
so peaceful.
Sandy placed her laptop to the side and came to her feet. “I’ll get his bottle. How’s it going?”
“Ryan’s doctor said as long as he’s been fed and changed, I don’t need to worry about his crying too much.”
The sound of someone talking outside caught their attention. Sandy went to the window and peeked through the blinds. “Oh, my God! I can’t believe it. It’s him.”
“Who?” Jill asked.
“Hollywood.”
“Who?”
“Derrick Baylor. He’s talking on his cell,” Sandy said. “Oh crap. Here he comes.” She squeezed the blinds shut. “Your parents would die if they knew the father of your baby might possibly be a football player.”
Sandy’s words caused a weird reaction inside her body. Until that very second Jill had no intention of answering the door, but Sandy’s words prompted her to change her mind.
Sandy backed away from the window and hid in the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s hide and maybe he’ll go away.”
Lexi rushed into the kitchen, climbed under the table and giggled.
Jill went to the kitchen and handed Sandy the baby. “Take Ryan for me and I’ll take care of Derrick.”
Sandy held Ryan close to her chest. “Derrick Baylor wants to take your son,” Sandy warned in a hushed voice. “You just saw him and his lawyer on the news walking into the courtroom.”
Jill looked to the front door. It was true. Jill had been surprised to see Derrick on TV. Before she could blink, he’d run to court. But what Sandy just said about her parents not liking football players had gotten Jill’s juices flowing. For the first time in days, everything seemed suddenly clear.
Jill had a plan.
Just this morning, Jill’s mom had called to tell her she and Dad would be visiting sooner rather than later. As was the norm, her mom couldn’t give Jill an exact day or time of arrival. They were busy people. For Dad, getting away from work for a few days wasn’t easy. Sadly, Jill wasn’t looking forward to their visit. She loved her parents; she just didn’t like them very much. Her father was overbearing and controlling, while her mother was merely one of her father’s many puppets.
Jill’s entire life had been built around her mother and father’s wishes. Even Thomas had been their doing. Before Thomas left her standing alone at the altar, though, Jill had begun to think perhaps her parents knew what was best for her after all.
But not any longer.
For twenty-eight years Jill had done whatever her father told her to do. Jill’s first act of defiance was moving from New York to California. Her parents would say her second act of defiance was having a baby out of wedlock, but that would be incorrect. Having a baby was a well-thought-out plan on Jill’s part. She and Thomas had been dating for many years before he finally proposed. During that time, they discovered Thomas had something called retrograde ejaculation, a disorder that causes some men, like Thomas, to become infertile. There were other related problems, too: problems she didn’t want to think about.
For that reason, Jill had spent the last four years visiting sperm banks across the country, finally opting on CryoCorp, the best in the business—or so she thought.
Getting pregnant and giving birth to Ryan had nothing to do with payback, revenge, or even biological clocks. After Thomas abandoned her, she decided to continue with her plans to have a baby. Having Ryan was a well-thought-out choice, a dream come true. She would not apologize to anyone for her decision to become a single mother.
Jill straightened her shoulders and headed for the door just as a knock sounded on the other side.
“Don’t answer it,” Sandy said.
“I have to.” Jill reached for the door handle. Derrick Baylor, she realized, might be just what the doctor ordered. If her parents thought, even for a minute, that she was interested in a football player of all things, they would turn around and head back for home in a New York minute. According to her father, football players were arrogant and overpaid, all ego and no substance, a disgrace to humanity.
Wonderful.
Jill could not have planned this scenario any better had she tried. Derrick Baylor would be the perfect man to get her parents off her back once and for all.
“We don’t even know the guy,” Sandy said. “He could be dangerous.”
“He’s not dangerous,” Jill said as she opened the door.
“Who’s not dangerous?” Derrick asked.
“You,” she said matter-of-factly before she waved at her ninety-year-old neighbor, Mrs. Bixby, when the woman peeked out through her apartment door.
Jill gave Derrick a once over. The first day she’d met Derrick Baylor he’d been wearing a nice pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. Today he had on a white T-shirt that showed off well-worked biceps; pre-washed jeans; a pair of sporty-style slip-on shoes; dark sunglasses; and three days’ worth of stubble. One hand was tucked in his front pants pocket. His hair was thick, dark, and wavy. Unruly strands hit his handsome forehead from all directions.
If only her parents could see him now.
Her mother would faint.
Derrick was everything her father wasn’t: tall, sexy, and from what little she’d heard on the news the other day, Hollywood was a bad boy. A womanizer who had tall, big-busted women lined up outside his door, no doubt.
Looking past him, over the railing, Jill saw his BMW parked at the curb across the street, which explained the flyaway hair. His BMW was a convertible. The same car she’d been in when her water broke. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d had time to take it to a car wash.
Jill stepped outside and shut the door behind her.
Derrick slid his Ray-Bans to the top of his head. His left eye was shaded in pinks and purples.
“What happened to you?”
“Just a little misunderstanding.”
“You ruffled somebody’s feathers, didn’t you?”
“Ruffled feathers?”
Jill rolled her eyes. “I don’t have to be Hermann Oberth to see that you have a knack for pushing one’s buttons.”
“Hermann Oberth?”
“A rocket scientist,” she explained. “One of three founding fathers of rocketry and modern astronautics.”
Derrick frowned. “You could have just said you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that I have a knack for pushing people’s buttons.”
“So, I was right.”
“About what?”
“About you having a knack for pushing people’s buttons.”
He sighed. “You look different,” he said, obviously in an attempt to change the subject.
“I just had a baby.”
He cocked his head for a better look. “No, really. Your hair…everything…you don’t look like the same woman.”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Are you saying I looked fat before?”
“No, of course not, I-I thought you looked great then…you just look different, that’s all.”
She rolled her eyes because she’d been kidding. “Why are you here?” she asked, giving up on humor since she couldn’t even get the man to smile.
“I was hoping we could talk,” he said. “I met with a judge and I thought you might want to hear what she had to say.”
Jill gave him the twice over as she tried to imagine what her parents would think when she told them she and Derrick Baylor were dating. For some reason, the idea of such a ridiculous notion sent a chill right through her. It had been over a year since she’d been with a man. She’d made love to a total of three different men in her life. Well, that is, if she counted Roy Lester. No, she quickly decided, she didn’t want to count Roy. Two men, she amended. She’d made love to two different men in her entire life. Derrick Baylor didn’t look like the sort of man who made love. He probably had hot passionate sex every night on the hood of his car. She blushed at the thought.
Sex was dirty.
That’s what her mother used to tell Jill and her sister. Thomas had always
been a perfect gentleman in bed. Thomas was the cleanest, neatest person she’d ever met, always making sure not to mess her hair or ruin the bed sheets if and when she could manage to get him in the mood.
“Are you all right?” Derrick asked when she failed to respond to whatever he’d said about meeting with a judge.
“I’m fine. I have a lot on my mind and I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Is Ryan okay?”
“He’s great. How did you know his name?”
“A reporter told me when I showed up at the hospital as planned.”
“Oh.” She felt a stab of guilt. “So what did the judge tell you?”
“The judge assigned a court appointed mediator to help us figure out how to deal with our situation.”
“Sandy thinks you want to take my baby from me. Is that true?”
“No. Never.”
Jill caught a whiff of his aftershave. He had to be wearing Gucci or Chanel. God, he smelled good. She didn’t have any shoes on, but either way, Derrick Baylor was tall…very tall. Her neck was beginning to hurt from the strain of looking up.
“Why did you leave the hospital without talking to me?” he asked.
“It’s complicated.”
“I have time.”
The little angel, if you could call it that, sitting on Jill’s left shoulder told her to tell him the truth: that she’d been confused and had done what she always did…followed orders. Sandy had told her she needed to get away from Derrick Baylor, and so that’s what Jill had done. She’d run.
The devil with the red spiked heels sitting on her right shoulder also told Jill to tell him the truth. But while she was at it, kill him with kindness and make him believe she wanted to be friends. At least until her parents showed up. Then she’d really have to turn on the charm. After her parents flew back to New York, all bets were off. Although Jill knew it wasn’t fair to judge a book by its cover, so to speak, she was too tired to care. Her ideal mate could never be an athlete. She preferred intelligent males who kept their hair combed appropriately and wore suits to work.
Having My Baby Page 4