When They Weren't Looking: Wardham Book #3

by York, Zoe

  Her sharp intake of breath at his tone, coupled with a blush and a smile, promised that if he played his cards right he’d get a chance to show her his inner caveman. All in good time. He turned to introduce her to the group.

  Two hours later, Evie had fallen head over heels in love with the Korean karaoke club, with its private rooms, high-tech sound system, and prompt to-the-door drink service. From the hot glances she kept sliding his way, she was still interested in an even more private party, but for now, he was having fun watching her cut loose. She’d hit it off with Jessica right away, and they were currently tag-teaming “Hit Me Baby One More Time”. His closest friend in the program, Jess was in a long-distance relationship that was falling apart, and while he would have abandoned her in a heartbeat for Evie tonight—because Jess was a big girl and Evie was, well, probably one-in-a-million—he was glad she was having fun.

  And Evie. She was incredible. By the fourth saucy holler that her loneliness was killing her, he was on his feet, applauding. As Chet took over at the mic, she skipped back to the leatherette bench and flung herself around his neck.

  “That was hot,” he muttered into her hair, and she flashed him a million watt smile.

  “Your turn again soon.”

  “You haven’t chosen one for me.” He bit his lip and waggled his eyebrows at her.

  She hummed under her breath for a minute, then pushed him away and grabbed for the song binder. He tried to ease against her, see what page she was looking at, but she gave him a playful elbow to the ribs.

  Jess joined them, sitting on the far side of Evie, who after thoughtfully stroking her chin for a minute made a song code note on the pad of paper and passed it to Mike, who’d made himself the de facto DJ.

  “Are you torturing my boy there,” Jess asked with a wicked gleam in her eye.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think he’s up for it.” Evie reached behind her and laced her fingers into his, and he felt like crowing. Damn straight, he was up for anything tonight. “So Jess, you were saying your boyfriend lives in London?”

  His friend nodded. “I’m moving there next month for work. It’ll be nice to live in the same city again.”

  “London’s lovely. Some of my friends went there for university.” Evie took a sip of her drink. Liam stilled behind her, his heart pounding. A clue to the mystery that was Evie. Ever since she’d demurely told him she was from out of town, he’d been hesitant to ask any more details. This was gold.

  “Are you from around there?” Jess clapped her hands. “Maybe we could get together for brunch!”

  Evie laughed. “I’m a little far for that, but who knows, maybe. I live in a little town on Lake Erie, not far from Windsor. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it.”

  Liam’s pulse picked up. What were the odds?

  “Is it near Pelee Island? We went there for a getaway a few years ago, it was lovely.”

  She nodded. “Very close! Wardham…between Kingsville and Colchester Harbour.”

  Jess cocked head. “That sounds familiar. Liam, isn’t—”

  “Hey, who chose Journey?”

  He took a deep breath. He should probably tell her, but then she turned and beamed at him. “You’re up!”

  He’d tell her. Right after he knocked her song out of the park. He shrugged out of his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Evie and Jess hooted and hollered as he rolled his hips to the opening strains of “Don’t Stop Believing”, but as he started singing the lyrics, the light-hearted tease became something else. Evie held his gaze, and he knew the song choice was an opening, and damn fucking straight he was going to take it.

  And once they’d shared this night, he’d find her again, and they’d share another. It would take some time, but he wasn’t about to let Evie go, not when he’d just discovered her.

  As the song came to an end, he tossed the microphone to Chet, scooped up his jacket with one hand and pulled Evie off the couch with another. With the scantest of goodbyes to the room, he hustled them out onto the street and hailed a cab.

  “You don’t mind cutting your celebration with your friends a bit short?” The breathless thrill in Evie’s voice pumped adrenaline directly into his veins, and blood straight to his cock.

  He pulled her tight against him, his hand firm against her side. He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “This is the best graduation present I could imagine.”

  “Kissing on the street?” She laughed gently. “You have low standards, my friend.”

  “Hearing you laugh, Evie. I’ve been missing that, and I didn’t even know it.”

  She licked her lips and touched the side of his face. “Want to know a secret?”

  He grinned. Her eyes were bright, and he knew his were the same. They were just drunk enough to do something crazy.

  “I’m extremely ticklish. Take me back to your place and I promise, I’ll laugh all night.”

  He whipped open the door and guided her into the taxi. She slid into the middle seat, and he pressed himself against her side, his hand on her knee. His fingers lightly touching the inside of her thigh.

  “Liam? We’re going to need to stop and buy some condoms.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Her hands shook as she held the plastic stick between her legs.

  On the other side of the bathroom door, the thump of feet was followed by a distant, “Mom!” The boys were up. Evie cracked the door and hollered that she’d get them breakfast in a few minutes. Another thump as one of them jumped for the TV remote. Great. Cartoons would make a suitably bizarre soundtrack for what she knew was coming next.

  Two blue lines.

  Goddamn it. More colourful curse words would be appropriate, but almost nine years of motherhood had trained her to keep the F-bomb inside her head. Her mouth, now full of cotton and unable to produce any more saliva, let alone swear, dropped open in shock as the reality of just how stupid she’d been started to sink in.

  One night.

  One weekend of fun after years of being a responsible mom. Two years without sex. And eight hours of reckless pleasure was her undoing.

  How was she going to handle a newborn on her own? She thunked her head against the wall. A wall still primarily owned by the bank. Oh god, her mortgage. Not working wasn’t an option. She’d only been in the house three months. There was no way the bank would waive even a single month’s payments. And with the new studio renovations still on her credit card…

  She could borrow money from Laney. Her sister would share it, no questions asked. How humiliating, to go hat in hand to one’s younger, more successful sister, and confess you got knocked up on a one-night stand with a college kid you haven’t talked to since.

  Oh god. The kid. Who was going to have a kid.

  No, no, no. Fluttery panic trembled up from her stomach, crowding against what tasted like bile in her throat, and she spun around, folded over the toilet, and let it all out.

  Co-parenting the boys with Dale was hard enough, but at least they had history. She knew him, could read his moods, anticipate what he might want, and how she might be able to get what she wanted out of him.

  She was going to have to find Liam. Thank god for small miracles, she remembered his name. First one, anyway. The engineer who’d just finished a business degree. Who’d celebrated by going to karaoke in Koreatown with his equally young friends, and somehow, Evie had agreed to tag along.

  It was his eyes. And his voice. She was a sucker for a man who could sing. He’d done something to the two syllables in her name, something that should have been illegal. A rolling, teasing pronunciation that had her panting for more.

  “Evie from out of town. Come to karaoke with me. Let’s celebrate.”

  Oh, Liam whatever-your-name is, you’re going to regret that invitation.

  On the other side of the bathroom door, Max was hopping up and down. Connor was with him, whispering something about leaving Mom alone, and her heart broke. She’d been too hard on them the last few days, knowing she ne
eded to pick up a pack of tests. Not wanting to confirm what she already knew in her heart of hearts. She swung the door open.

  “Sorry, Mommy. I really gotta pee!” Max bounded past her. Connor stood in the hallway, looking somehow taller than the day before. Maybe it the was look of concern on his nine-year-old face.

  “Breakfast, kiddo?” She lightened her tone and gently bumped his shoulder as she stepped past him.

  “Are you sick?” He turned and followed her down the tiny corridor to the living room, and the galley kitchen on the other side. Their bungalow was wee, but it was theirs. After living with her mother for eleven months, Evie was happy to have a place all her own. A two-bedroom place.

  A baby could sleep in her room for the first few months. Or longer, if he was like Connor. But Max had needed his own room after six months. What if this one was the same?

  “Mom?”

  She swallowed hard. “No, honey. I’m fine.” For now.

  Hunger won out over curiosity, and Connor turned his attention to the yogurt and granola she set out. Max soon joined them, and then it was a flurry of eating, changing, library book finding, permission slip signing. By the time she’d escorted them across the street and down the block to school, she was ready for a nap.

  Too bad she had four classes today, and dinner at her mother’s tonight, which was doubling as a planning session for Laney’s engagement party. Eleanor Nixon, Laney’s future mother-in-law, would also be there. Two smart women who would smell fear a mile away. She had seven hours to pull her shit together and pretend she wasn’t knocked up.

  And hope that the erroneously named morning sickness didn’t choose tonight to make another appearance.

  It was too early for that, wasn’t it? She’d sold her prenatal books at a garage sale after Max was born. Maybe the internet would have the information she needed, because there was no way she was going to the Wardham Public Library and signing out What to Expect When You’re Expecting.

  First step, figure out a due date. That would be easy. There was only one possible date of conception. The night she lost her mind and slept with a college student. God.

  Second step, call the midwife and get on the waiting list. And hope to hell that Molly Weisz, the receptionist in the Essex Birthing Co-op, and born and bred Wardhamite, actually respected patient confidentiality.

  Holy hell. Molly wasn’t going to say anything, but in a few short months, her belly certainly would. Everyone in town would soon know that Evie Calhoun, the one with the plastic surgeon sister, an ex-husband running for town council, and two lovely little boys, was knocked up by a mystery man who was most definitely not in the picture.

  Evie was half-way into a panic attack when Carrie Nixon, Laney’s future sister-in-law, and owner of A Bun in the Oven, a bakery-coffee shop that was the jewel of downtown Wardham, popped up in front of her. Carrie’s daughter was in Max’s class, and her son went to the preschool Evie had just walked past.

  “Hey, chickadee, what’s up?”

  “Heading to the studio. You on your way to the store?”

  Carrie nodded and fell in step beside her. “Yep. I’m not in a hurry, though. I love having an assistant manager.” Carrie had recently promoted one of her part-time staff, giving her some much needed mornings off to take her kids to school. Her husband, Ian, was a farmer. Early summer was a busy time for both of them. “I could grab us some lattes and keep you company at the studio for a bit.”

  “I…I can’t today, sorry. I’ve got a bunch of calls to make before my first class.” Not a lie. She had to call the midwife, and the University of Toronto. See if she could find someone who would help her track down a student by the name of Liam, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a voice that evaporated panties.

  That would work, right?

  Because she had to tell him. Maybe he wouldn’t want to know, a little voice piped up from the back of her head. She shook the thought away. Not an option. But she didn’t need to tell him right away. The pregnancy might not stick.

  “Evie, are you okay?” Carrie pressed a hand to her shoulder and they both slowed to a stop just shy of the main intersection. “You don’t just look preoccupied, you look…sad.”

  That was Carrie. Blunt and to the point. And a good friend, but Evie wasn’t ready to confide in anyone just yet. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, I’m sorry. I’m terrible company right now. Catch ya later?”

  She took off without looking back.

  Neither Eleanor nor her mother noticed anything over dinner, and discussion of the potluck extravaganza for Laney and Kyle that was just a week away dominated the evening. She was able to duck out early, citing the last few days of school as a reasonable excuse. Connor had to leave early the next morning for a field trip, and Max just needed more sleep in general lately, it seemed.

  She’d decided over dinner that she couldn’t tell Laney yet. After the party. Her sister was sticking around for a week of vacation, before finally moving her fiancé and their dog to Chicago, where she was a paediatric plastic surgeon.

  The sisters couldn’t be more different. Instead of going to college, Evie had opted to teach dance part-time and work at a clothing store that had long since closed its doors, then married young. She had Connor, and two years later Max. It had taken another six years to realize that she didn’t want to grow old and grey with Dale, who was a good dad, but a shitty husband. Too many issues had cropped up between them that they never dealt with—including Evie’s desire for more kids, and Dale hating to share her body. With his children, and her past.

  Evie shook her head. It was time for her to get over that.

  As she watched her sons brush their teeth, jockeying for position at the tiny sink in the tiny bathroom, she pressed a hand to her flat stomach. Oh, little bean. I want you. I just don’t know how I’m going to manage to give you everything you need.

  And at this rate, it might be just her doing the providing. The call to the midwife’s office had been productive—as a returning client, she was guaranteed care—but as she feared, the calls to the university, and then the Department of Engineering, proved fruitless. No one would give her any information on a student, which of course made sense, but logic and rationality didn’t cut her frustration at being blandly told she’d hit another dead end.

  Hot tears pricked her eyelids, and she widened her gaze to hold them at bay, willing herself to hold it together until the boys were asleep.

  “Dude, you spit on my ear!”

  “No, I didn’t! You put your head under my mouth! Mommy!” Max spun around, looking for her to intervene. His outrage, fueled by fatigue, wasn’t going to go away on its own.

  Evie shot Connor a beseeching look and her eldest, always the peacemaker, ruffled his brother’s hair. “Sorry for yelling, buddy.”

  “‘Sokay. Sorry for spitting.” Max shuffled out of the room with a yawn, and Evie wrapped her arms around Connor for a second before he wrestled away.

  In their room, Connor settled into the top bunk with a book and his night light. Evie crawled in with Max on the bottom, and listened with half an ear as he slowly made his way through a Star Wars reader. When he set it down and rolled over, eyes shut already, she got up, patted Connor’s leg, and flicked off the light on her way to the kitchen.

  No one else was going to do the dishes, and she hated having them there in the morning, so even though sandpaper and sadness were scratching at the inside of her eyelids, she tidied up before making herself a cup of tea to take to bed.

  Why now? There was no ready answer. She’d just gotten her life back together. Set aside her hopes for a big family. Made peace with the fact that she’d left her husband because he didn’t love her the way she wanted to be loved. Moved forward with an alternate dream, one that was harder and more grueling that she ever thought possible. More humble, too. A tiny two-bedroom bungalow on the modest side of town, although Wardham was small enough that it wasn’t far from the quaint main street strip and the public beach on the other s
ide. A rented studio space where she taught Pilates instead of dance, because that’s what paid the bills.

  And she loved it. All of it. The coupon clipping and the lentil-heavy meals when she only had fifty bucks left in the bank. The quiet nights after the boys went to bed, and the days to herself when they were with Dale.

  She’d made peace with where life had dumped her. Started to make something special out of the pieces of her former world. And in a few short months, all of that would be threatened. Unless she asked for a handout. Something she’d avoided so far.

  She wasn’t too proud to accept help. Her mother had given them a place to stay after she and Dale split the less than impressive proceeds of sale on their old house—which had been on the fancier side of town, but mortgaged to the hilt—and Dale gave her child-support every month, which she was grateful for as well.

  But this would be different. This wouldn’t be something reasonable and small. If she didn’t teach classes for six or eight weeks, maybe more if she had a difficult delivery. The math took her breath away, and she couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

  A lot can happen in nine months. The logical part of her brain fought against the list of concerns she’d been developing all day, but the emotional overload won out. And she didn’t have anyone to share her fear with. Another couple of weeks, and she’d be able to tell her sister. Her mother, too, and how humiliating would that conversation be? But Claire would be supportive. Too supportive.

  Evie curled onto her side, and buried her wet cheeks in the patchwork quilt stretched over her bed. She wouldn’t be able to handle her mother’s eternal optimism or the immediate leap to finding solutions. Not yet. Not before she’d had a chance to wrap her head around how drastically her life had changed.

  No. For now, she was on her own.

  And she still had a big problem in the form of a missing sperm donor. Missing, and probably unwilling. And how would she even explain how this happened? They’d bought a brand-new box of condoms, and to the best of her hazy recollection, none of them malfunctioned.