Unexpected Daddies

by Lively, R. S.

  He doesn’t say anything as he tears off a small piece of the bagel and presses it against my lips. I open my mouth and he places it on my tongue. I chew and swallow, opening my mouth again for another piece.

  “Ye want to tell me what had ye crying on the sidewalk, love?” He pops another piece of bagel into my mouth. “Besides what is going on with Anthony.”

  “That’s just it. It’s everything to do with Anthony. All those years I tried to get away. We fought so many times and he called me many times, but I ignored him. There were just so many times where I could have been better. And now…” My eyes start to fill again. “And now he might die. He got shot in the damn head! The head! Who the hell survives that? No one, Reilly! No one.”

  He nods, and this time, a tear breaks free from his eyes. “I know, but it’s Anthony. He has to be alright.” He pulls me close, wrapping me in a tight embrace.

  We sit like that for a moment, finding peace in each other’s company, when Mills comes out. “Hey, the doctor wants to speak to all of us.”

  I nod, swinging my legs off Reilly and standing up. He holds out his hand, asking silently if I want to take it. I need to take it. For reassurance, strength, and hope. What lies between those double doors could change everything.

  I don’t think twice. I intertwine our fingers, taking a deep breath and following Mills inside. The entrance narrows into a tunnel as I stare straight at my parents. Everything fades away. The lights are brighter and the worried expressions on my parent’s faces draw nearer.

  This is it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Reilly

  “Is this everyone?” the older man asks, glancing down at his medical chart. His blue scrubs have blood spatter on them, and I don’t want to ask if it’s Anthony’s. I have a feeling it is, and that makes me sick with worry. That… that’s a lot of blood. He only needed a bullet removed, right?

  “Yes, doctor. This is the family,” Grace, Gwen’s mom, says as she wraps her thin cardigan around herself a bit tighter. Timothy has his arm around her, bracing for the worst. Their love could be seen from a mile away, something that I desperately want with Gwen.

  The doctor exhales a tired sigh and takes off his glasses, placing them in the pocket of his white coat. “Anthony was shot in the head. The good news is that he must have tried to get out of the way because the bullet penetrated his skull, but instead of going inside the brain, which would have caused instant death, it skimmed just outside his brain.”

  “What’s that mean? Is he okay?” Gwen asks, tightening her grip on my hand.

  “The bullet lodged itself into the back of his skull and we were able to remove it, but there was some swelling. Well, a lot of swelling.”

  “Which means what?” Timothy asks impatiently.

  “He is in a coma. We are unaware if he will wake up. He has brain activity, so that is good, but the damage could take time to repair.”

  Grace sits down and cries. She doesn’t bother hiding her pain. Timothy reacts differently. He holds back his pain and nods. “You don’t know when he will wake up?”

  Camilla sits down next to Grace, taking her hand and trying to comfort her, but it’s pointless when all of us need comforting. Gwen lays her head on my arm, but she isn’t crying. I don’t know if that’s a good thing. There have been a lot of events that happened today, so I don’t know how to take her silence.

  “No. The brain is a sensitive organ. Everyone is different. He could wake up tomorrow, or a month from now, or a year from now, but here is my opinion.”

  I brace myself for what’s next. If he wants us to sign a Do Not Resuscitate order, he can go fuck himself.

  “Give him time. He can breathe on his own. He has brain activity. Give him time. You’ll become impatient and angry. You won’t understand why he won’t wake up but know that he wants to. Visit him. Talk to him. Tell him stories. Hearing your voices will help.”

  “You think he can hear us?”

  The doctor’s old grey brows lift like he’s surprised by the question. “I do. I have to believe they can hear us. If not, this job would be a lot worse. You have to keep faith, even when it seems there is none. I’ve seen people come back from worse.”

  “Can we see him?” I ask.

  “He is in the ICU. Come back tomorrow when I know he'll be more stable. Okay?”

  “No. Please. Please don’t make me leave my boy. Don’t make me," Grace cries, and her words choke me up. Her desperate plea is hard to say no to.

  “Grace, he needs to rest. He doesn’t need the stress of us right now. We need to go home, try to rest, and come back less emotional. It’s been a tough day.” Timothy kneels, taking his wife’s hand in his. “I want to be with him, too, honey. But this is for the best.”

  Grace nods. She seems to struggle to get up when Timothy grabs her hand. “What time tomorrow?” she asks through a broken voice.

  “Nine.”

  “Okay,” she whispers. “We will stay at the hotel across the street. That’s as far as I’m willing to go, Timothy. Don’t even think about taking me home when we live two hours away.”

  He kisses her cheek and holds out his hand. “I wouldn’t think of it.” They thank the doctor and leave, leaving me there with Gwen and Camilla.

  “I have to go home, guys. I can’t get off work. I’ve tried. The assholes. I’m already looking for another job, but until then... I have to go,” Camilla says, giving Gwen a hug.

  “I understand. We’ll keep ye updated,” I say, and then I wonder if I should have said that. I spoke for Gwen, like she and I were a couple, even though we haven’t had that conversation.

  “Sounds good, guys. I love you, Gwen.”

  Then, it’s just me, Gwen, and the doctor. I hold out my hand. “Thank ye for saving his life. Just… thank you.”

  He looks at me with a surprised face and shakes my hand. “Just doing my job.”

  “We appreciate it,” Gwen says, looking out beyond the doors. We, she says.

  The doctor walks away, and I reach my arm around Gwen’s shoulder and guide her outside. Once the fresh air hits my face, I take a deep breath and then exhale, feeling a bit lighter. “How about we get a room across the street, so we can stay close by?”

  “I’d like that.” Her head settles into the crook of my arm as we stroll through the parking lot. It definitely isn’t the romantic walk I had thought of. I imagined us walking through the field of flowers in our garden and our kid on my shoulders trying to catch butterflies.

  Wishful thinking, sure, but a man can dream.

  We don’t say much else. Considering the situation, there isn’t much to say. I hold the door open for Gwen, letting her enter the hotel first. When we get to the front desk, the woman greets us with a smile, but when she sees Gwen’s face, she frowns slightly.

  “Welcome to The Lodge, where we keep your comfort and peace at an all-time high. How can I help you?” Her blonde hair rests over her shoulders in soft waves. She has pale skin, but it’s nothing like Gwen’s, for Gwen’s is flawless.

  Shite... Does Gwen want to share a room or get a separate room?

  “One room, please,” Gwen says.

  That answers that.

  “We only have a king available. Is that okay?”

  I don’t know. Is it? Does she want that?

  “That’s fine.”

  “Great. And how long are you looking to stay with us?”

  I glance down to see Gwen look away. Her chin dimples, telling me she’s fighting back tears. I clear my throat, hoping I won’t step on her toes when I answer. “We don’t know. We have a family member at the hospital. Can we just leave the booking open? I’ll give ye the card number. Even if we aren’t here, I want the room reserved. Is that okay?”

  She clicks a few buttons, tapping her fingers on the keys. “If that is the case, you’d have to get one of our suites. I’m sorry, but those are just the rules.”

  “That’s fine. Give me yer best suite. We will just mov
e in.”

  Gwen gasps, but she doesn’t say anything as I hand over my new black card. The one that has no limit. Yeah, that’s a new feeling.

  “Of course, Mr. O’Hara.” She smiles brightly.

  Ah, and this is the part where I get treated differently because I have money. That would also be a new thing. “Thank you.”

  A few moments later, she gives us our key cards, and I steer Gwen toward the elevator, nodding at a few people that pass by. “Did you really just get a suite? What the hell is going on, Reilly?”

  “What? Nothing. I have that card for emergencies. This is an emergency.”

  “Oh, thank you. Um, thanks.” She tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, hiding her hand in the sleeve of her hoodie.

  “Anything for ye, love.”

  She gives me a sad smile and the elevator dings, averting her attention to the people that were getting off. Once we step on, she stands on the other side, watching the numbers get higher and higher as we climb. I lean against the metal as it vibrates, but I don’t take my eyes off her, even though she never takes her eyes off the display above the doors.

  We still had a few floors to go. “How are ye holding up?” my voice booms in the small space, echoing off the walls.

  She rubs her nose, still staring at the numbers. “As well as anyone can in this situation.”

  I uncross my ankles, but I still stand on the other side of the elevator. She needs space. The emotions she experienced just now aren’t as intense as they were earlier, so maybe she doesn’t want me near her at all. Earlier, she didn’t know if her brother was alive and she had needed a shoulder. She needed stability, and I gave her that. I’ll always give her that, but the thought of her not wanting to be close to me... That hurts.

  The elevator jolts as the door opens. When we step off, we look left and right, but there are no doors on either side of us. “Weird,” I mumble, sliding my key into the reader.

  “Whoa,” Gwen says in awe, looking around the room.

  The ceilings are high, and the windows are huge, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. There is a spiral staircase that leads up to what looks like a loft. There is a full-size kitchen to the right as well as a living room with a gas fireplace. It reminds me of a fancy downtown apartment in some big city.

  “You’re okay with keeping this open-ended? This will cost you a fortune.”

  I take off my leather coat and hang it up on the coat rack next to the door. “I’m not too worried about that. What is going on with your brother is more important than money.”

  “Thank you for doing this. Thank you for being here,” she expresses, letting out a heavy sigh that sounds so burdened and weighted that I feel it weigh down on me.

  “How about I call the front desk and have them bring us room service, along with yer parents? I’ll see if they can get us some pajamas, too. They must have a gift shop.” I pick up the phone that hangs on the wall, putting it up to my ear.

  “I’d like that, yeah.” Gwen sniffles. Her nose is raw from all the rubbing it’s been through lately. Her eyes start to water, and I hang up the phone. I know that this time, her tears weren’t because of me, but damn, she cries a lot and I don’t know how to handle it.

  “Hey, hey. No tears. Okay?” I pull her into my arms, trying not to think about how perfect she fits there.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Okay? I just don’t know how to comfort people when they cry. Plus, when ye cry, it breaks me heart. Right here.” I tap my chest.

  She rubs her hand over my heart, making my breath catch. “It’s a good heart. I don’t want it broken.” She looks at me with her big, gorgeous eyes. “I want us to concentrate on Anthony, I do, but I’ve only felt okay since you’ve been here. I’ve only felt whole when we have been together. Why do you do this to me?” she asks, like she truly doesn’t understand. “Now isn’t the time to want you. Not when you don’t want me, but I can’t help the need I feel toward you.” She pushes me, causing me to stumble. The expression on her face is no longer full of love, but anger—a lot of it. “Why do you do this to me?” she shouts. “I don’t want this! I don’t want this pain. I don’t want this ache that you leave me with every time you can’t make up your mind. Why can't you leave me alone?” she cries, pushing me again.

  My back hits the kitchen island and I try to grab her wrist. “I have never and will never be able to leave ye alone. I fucking love ye. No matter how hard I’ve tried not to over the years. No matter how much I try to distance myself.” I step toward her, making her take a step back. “No matter how many times I told myself that ye were forbidden.” I tap the side of my head, but I’m clearly not that smart since I’ve never listened to myself. “But guess what? No matter how many times we fight each other, we will always be brought back together.”

  “Why?” she cries, her back bumping against the window. I have her pinned. She has nowhere else to go.

  “Because we belong together. I feel it and ye feel it.”

  “I don’t fight it like you do.”

  I smirk, bracing her head between my arms. “Oh, Gwenie. If yer brother were awake right now, he’d already know. There’s a voicemail on his phone.” I caress her chin with my thumb. How can someone be so fucking beautiful, but at the same time, drive me so fucking mad?

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “In time, ye will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Gwendolyn

  I lift my chin, trying to hide the hope blooming in my chest. Reilly gives me whiplash. He wants me. He doesn’t. He wants me. He doesn’t. If I’m honest with myself, I know he’s always wanted me. He’s been fighting the instincts that tell us we should be together, and to admit it, I have been, too, or else I wouldn’t have ignored him for all those years. It’s just getting exhausting. I either want to love him forever or turn around and walk away, leaving him behind and in the past for good. I want to open a new chapter and feel refreshed. I don’t want to keep reliving the same fight.

  “Now... Do ye want me to call room service?” he asks as he steps back, giving me a little room to breathe.

  I take the hem of my shirt, peeling it off my body, and throw it at him, hitting him right in the face. “Yes. In the meantime, I’m going to take a bath.” I unbutton my jeans, shimmying out of them. “I need some time to myself.” I don’t miss how he clenches my shirt in his hands as he stares at my body.

  “Sure.” He growls as I walk by. I climb the steps to the loft, giving him my best view. “I’ll let you know when it arrives.”

  I stare over the railing to see him standing in the same spot, holding onto my shirt. I smirk, loving that I affect him like that. I spin around, taking my bra off and throwing it over my head. It falls in front of his face.

  “Ah, shite. Come on,” he whines, looking up only to see my bare back.

  Teasing him makes everything feel a bit lighter, but it isn’t enough to get rid of the massive amount of worry I feel. I slide the oak door open, revealing a gorgeous bathroom. The walls are black, and the flooring is white tile. The huge, clawfoot bathtub sits on the right. The bright white color stands stark against the black wall so perfectly. To the left is a huge walk-in shower that has no walls−just a drain that sits in the middle of the room. It makes everything feel very open and expensive.

  Which makes me wonder how the hell he can afford this. He still isn’t telling me something. I have a feeling he inherited a lot of money from Lucky. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It isn’t my business to ask, though. I have to wait until he feels ready to tell me.

  The edge of the tub digs into my thigh as I sit down, turning the knobs until hot water comes out of the faucet. There are a few essential oils and a bottle full of bubble bath that sits to the side on a wooden slate. I pop the top off the glass, taking in a big lungful. Everything in my body relaxes when the smell of lavender hits my nose. I pour the oil in, watching the water dance around it since the two can’t mix. T
he water smells divine, and I pour a little bubble bath in there, too. Big, fluffy suds start to build and fizz, calling to me like a sweet siren. I stand up, slipping off my panties and sinking into the steaming hot water.

  The back of my head rests against the tub and I close my eyes, enjoying the silence and the solace. Today has been the worst day of my life. A couple of days, really. First had been the argument with Reilly, then I threw up, then we had irritating and amazing sex, then I cried some more, and now this. When my mom called to tell me the news, I’d dropped my phone, sprinted to the bathroom, and thrown up again. I don’t know why, all of a sudden, my stomach is so sensitive, but it has to be the stress, especially today.

  I keep replaying what happened with Anthony. He had to have been so scared with that gun pointed to his head. A tear falls free, and then another, and another, until I’m fully crying all over again. My eyes have stayed red and swollen with how much crying I've done lately. My emotions are being attacked, and they’re losing.

  This can’t be real. My relationship with my brother can’t be comprised of me waiting for him to wake up from a coma. I just saw him earlier. He was fine. “He was fine," I repeat out loud, trying to work out the reality in my head. I play with the fuzzy suds, watching them pop and disintegrate as I figure everything out.

  The world is falling apart all around me, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. No matter how many times I play the day over in my head, the outcome is the same.

  “Ye okay?” Reilly knocks. I push some of the suds in front of my breasts so he couldn’t see them.

  I roll my eyes at myself. It isn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. No need to be a prude now. “I will be. It’s just a lot to take in. I’m trying to understand it all.”

  He gathers my hair that is hanging off the side of the tub and he takes the band I have off my wrist, putting my hair up into a bun. “Hopefully, after some dinner, a night of good rest, and information from the doctor tomorrow, things will make more sense.” Once my hair is on top of my head, Reilly digs his thumbs into my shoulders, massaging my tense muscles.