by Gemma James
“The baby will have two parents. They just won’t be together.”
“Then I can’t go through with the pregnancy.”
I drag a hand down my face. My head is spinning, and the sickness boiling in my gut obliterates my appetite for food. “Are you seriously trying to blackmail me into being with you?”
“I’m just being honest. I won’t go through this without a commitment from you.”
“This is insane. We had a fling, Corinne. Rational people don’t pull this shit.”
“I’m pregnant, not rational.”
“That’s probably the first logical thing you’ve said.” I close the distance between us and lift her chin. Her face is wet with her vulnerability. I know she’s scared, but this seems drastic, even for Corinne, who’s always been a bit of a drama queen.
“Why would you settle for something you know won’t work?”
“I might’ve only been a fun time to you, but for me it was different. You know how I feel about you, and I’ll fight for us. I’ll fight for what our baby deserves.”
She’s digging in her heels. No matter what I say, logic won’t get through to her. Frustration and helplessness grip me in their clutches, and I’m afraid I won’t break free from this.
But I sure as hell can’t give her what she wants either.
“You’re prepared to have an abortion?”
“Yes.” She averts her gaze when she says it.
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth. I won’t do this without you, so you’re either in all the way, or I’m out.”
“This is bullshit. I don’t want you to get rid of the baby.”
“I don’t want to be a single parent.”
“Do you really think holding our baby ransom is going to make me want you? It’ll only cause resentment.” Closing my eyes, I turn away and run a hand through my hair. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
She’s silent, and when I turn back to face her, I find her gnawing on her lip. Her hands are clasped in front of her, fingers twisting in nervousness, but I can’t read her. Maybe she is whacked enough in the head that she’d go through with it. And that’s the problem—I have no idea what she’s capable of.
If I give her what she wants—no, what she’s demanding—I’ll never win back Sadie’s trust. She doesn’t want complicated. She wants what I’ve always given her.
Security.
The assurance I’ll always be there.
Problem is, I need to give those things to my unborn child. There’s no question of that, and no alternative I can find in the interim.
Bend to Corinne’s demands, or risk her doing something rash.
“You’re not leaving me much choice here.”
Her face lights up with hope. “You’ll give us a chance?”
“What else am I supposed to do here, Corinne? I don’t want you to abort.”
Eyelashes fluttering, she settles her hand on my chest. Her fingers trail down my abdomen, aiming for the button of my jeans, and I grab her wrist before she reaches her destination.
“I said I’d give us a chance. I didn’t say I’d sleep with you.”
“Intimacy is part of giving us a real chance, Ashton.”
I shake my head. “We’re not anywhere close to having a physical relationship. You want a commitment? Fine. But the rest will have to wait until I know I can trust you.”
“You can trust me.”
“I don’t see how. It’s going to take some time.”
I let go of her wrist and put some distance between us. “Let’s just see where this goes.” All I need to do is make her believe the lie long enough for her to pass the point of no return in her pregnancy.
She looks away, her face the picture of disappointment. “I guess it’s probably a good idea to get to know the father of my child better. Maybe then you’ll realize we belong together.”
Fuck, I wonder if she hears herself and realizes how crazy she sounds. Or is she oblivious, too immersed in her fantasy world of love and babies and fucking white picket fences?
I’m not sure I want to know.
“Just promise you won’t do anything rash before talking to me, okay?”
“I’ll talk to you before making any decisions. We’re in this together, right?”
“Right.”
“And you’ll break things off with her?” Her demanding tone rubs me the wrong way, and I’m tempted to tell her where she can shove her ultimatum. Instead, I use my less-than-stellar past to convince her she has nothing to worry about.
“There’s nothing to break off. You were right. It wasn’t serious.”
She studies me too long as if searching for the answer she hopes to find. “For real?”
Not even close, but I’ll lie until my nose grows by a foot if I have to.
“Yes. Over before it started,” I say, trying to reel in my clipped tone. “There’s no one else.”
Corinne relaxes into the lie, the muscles in her body loosening as she exhales. “Okay.”
And just like that, she buys it.
For the next couple of months, I’ll have to sell it, and after this mess is resolved, I pray to God Sadie will forgive me.
Telling her is going to be hell.
It’s pouring again by the time I drop Corinne off at her apartment. She begs me to stay with her, but I use the excuse of being tired from a long day at work.
Even though I’m still caked in mud, exhausted, and it’s late, I detour to Sadie’s place on my way home. I’m far from ready for this conversation, but I have to be straight with her since keeping shit from her the first time didn’t work out so well, and that’s a mistake I won’t make again.
I rush through the parking lot of her apartment complex, rain drenching me along the way, and climb the stairs two at a time to escape the downpour. Walking in is second nature, but the door is locked, so I rap on the wood and wait. Footsteps sound, and when the door opens, my sister is standing on the other side.
“I need to talk to Sadie,” I say, wiping the rain from my face.
“I don’t think she wants to see you right now.”
“It’s important.”
She opens the door wider. “If you upset her, you’ll wish you were an only child.”
“You need to chill out. This is between her and me.”
“Yeah,” she scoffs. “You’re my brother, and she’s my best friend. Shit ain’t that simple, Ash.”
I gaze around the apartment and take in the empty couch, the dark kitchen, and the muted TV that’s showing some program about tattoo artists. “Where is she?”
Mandy points toward the hall. “In her bedroom. I doubt she’s asleep yet. I think she just got out of the shower.”
My breath hitches, and I imagine Sadie’s soft skin under my fingertips and the sweet scent of vanilla wafting to my nose. Her long hair wet and tangled and so fucking tempting that I can practically feel it held captive in my fist.
Focus, asshole.
Stalling in front of Sadie’s bedroom door, I close my eyes and inhale. Part of me is hoping I’ll catch her naked. The other part knows how foolish it is to wave a red flag of temptation in front of a bull.
Foolish it is.
I knock twice then enter before she can answer. She’s wearing a tank top and sleep shorts, and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved.
Sadie glances up from brushing her hair, fingers frozen around the handle of the wooden hairbrush. “What the hell, Ash?”
“I need to talk to you.”
She pulls the brush clear to the ends then sets it on a white desk scattered with beauty products. I find it ironic that she owns so much female junk since she doesn’t wear makeup often.
She doesn’t need to.
“The last time you said you needed to talk, I ended up cutting my father loose.” She takes a seat on the end of the bed, and I settle next to her.
“You finally stood up to him?”
“Yep.”
“How did it go?”
“About as well as expected.”
I want to touch her. Instead, I clench my hands. If I start touching her now, I won’t stop. Her bed is taunting me to strip her naked and spread her out before me, on top of me, underneath me. My willpower where Sadie’s concerned is almost non-existent, whittled away from the intense experiences we shared these past few weeks.
“What’s so important that you needed to crash my bedroom?”
The explanation lodges in my throat, and I swallow hard before speaking. “Corinne is threatening to have an abortion.”
“Threatening? Why would she do that?”
“She says she doesn’t want to be a single parent.”
“What are you trying to say, Ash?”
“I’m saying the situation has gotten more complicated. Corinne will keep the baby if I…”
Christ, I can’t say it.
She jumps to her feet, brows narrowing, spine stiffening, and I don’t miss the suspicion in her jade eyes. “If you what? Just spit it out.”
“She’ll keep the baby if I commit…to her.”
Silence is a weird thing—it can say more than words alone. The utter quiet between us settles over the room like an ominous cloud, thunderous in its roiling presence.
“You gave in to her.” There’s no question in her tone. Just heart-wrenching certainty because Sadie knows me well enough to know what I’d do if faced with such an ultimatum.
“She was threatening to kill my child. What else was I supposed to do?”
She walks to the door and opens it. “I think you should leave.”
“Don’t do this, Sawyer. It’s only temporary. I just need some time to figure out how to handle the situation.” My feet eat up the space between us, and I take her face between my hands. “My heart belongs to you.”
“But your obligation belongs to her.” She backs away until we’re an arm-length apart. “I won’t stand in the way of that.”
“You asked me for time. Now I’m asking for the same.”
“Are you going to fuck her?”
“No way in hell. Do you really think I’d do that to you?”
Lowering her gaze, she stares at my work boots. “Until you straighten this out, I think we should just be friends.” She pauses, and I realize I’m holding my breath. “Or maybe we shouldn’t see each other at all.”
“Not seeing you isn’t an option, and I sure as hell don’t want to be your goddamn friend.”
She lifts a shoulder as if this isn’t pulverizing her innards like it is mine. “That’s all I can give you right now.”
Fuck this shit. I grab her by the nape and claim her mouth, making it known with every frenzied dart of my tongue that she’s not getting away so easily.
She’s mine.
Driven by pure instinct, I deepen my possession of her mouth until she’s whimpering on my tongue. I’ll be damned if this is the last time I get drunk off the taste of her. She can fight me, guns blazing, but in the end, I’ll come out victorious.
Before the kiss turns into something neither of us can walk away from, I tear my lips from hers. “There’s no way in hell I’m letting you give up on us.”
She parts her lips, probably to protest or reason or appeal to me with her annoyingly infallible logic, but I press a finger against her mouth. “Don’t bother arguing. You won’t win this one.”
One…two…three seconds pass before I drop my hand.
I need to leave before I can’t. Before her watery jade eyes and quivering lips make it impossible to walk out the front door. Weakness is the ruination of fools, and I’m its bitch because I brush my mouth across hers one last time in a kiss so brief it barely counts.
Because if I truly made it count, we’d end up in her bed, the door to her room shut, clothing a discarded path on the floor, and I’d show her exactly how serious I am about not giving up on us.
For both our sakes, I leave her breathless in the hall and bolt into the rain.
Chapter Thirty-five
Sadie
“No way,” I tell Mandy, my tone leaving no question about my feelings on this. As usual, she ignores my protests as she moves around the wasteland that is my bedroom, picking up dirty clothes off the floor and stacking dishes containing half-eaten food onto the dresser. She’s always been on the overbearing side, but she’s my best friend, so I let her get away with it.
Not this time.
“I’m not in the mood for going out,” I say, crossing my arms.
She wags her finger at me. “Uh-uh. You already begged off once, and I let you since you’ve been a heartbroken mess, but it’s time to get out there again.” She starts folding the clothes I left in the hamper a week ago when I mustered enough give-a-fucks to do a load of laundry.
“Comb your hair, brush your teeth, put on some clean clothes—just do something.”
I’ve been doing a lot of sleeping. I’m tempted to ask her if that counts, but I bite back the retort.
“I can’t stand to see you so depressed,” she says, heading over to my closet. “You need to have some fun.”
I also need to find a job, but that hasn’t been happening either, and my savings account isn’t big enough to enable an extended bout of heartache.
Ashton has completely wrecked me.
“I’m not in the mood for fun.” And I’m sure as hell am not in the mood to go on some blind date.
“It’s been three weeks, Sadie. You said you’d at least think about it, remember?”
“I did? When?”
“The night of your parents Jerry Springer style dinner.”
“That was before…”
“Before my brother got inside your head and turned you into a moping zombie queen, I know.”
“Moping zombie queen?”
“Would you prefer lovesick fool?”
With a wary sigh, I flop onto my bed and hug my pillow. “You said I should give it some time.”
“Time, yes, but ever since he barged into your bedroom, you’ve been a step away from needing Prozac. A little fun won’t kill you.”
“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“Not a chance, so you might as well get dressed and turn that frown upside down.”
I’m too down in the dumps to laugh at her ridiculous attempt at cheering me up, but the corners of my mouth curve up, despite myself. “I don’t want to lead this guy on.”
“You won’t.” She slides several hangers to the side before pulling out a simple charcoal midi dress. Next, she selects a pair of strappy green heels and a matching clutch. A clunky sliver chain belt completes her ensemble. There’s no hiding my wince when she marches to where I’m eyeing her from the bed.
“Ashton will get pissed if he finds out.” Not only pissed, but any hint of me dating will destroy him. I know the thought of him with Corinne is destroying me.
We’ve talked via texts a few times since he told me about Corinne’s ultimatum, and on the few occasions I left the house to buy groceries or run errands, or—heaven forbid—actually went to a job interview, I happened to spot him around town with her. Twice. Each time added another bleeding gash to my heart.
“My brother will just have to deal.” She lays the dress, shoes, and accessories on the bed. “There’s no reason you should sit at home like a spinster while he’s working shit out with his baby mamma.”
The term baby mamma is like claws on a chalkboard, and I cringe.
“Look,” she says. “I told Shane you aren’t interested in more than friendship. He understands. He’s not in a great headspace for dating either.”
“And this is a guy you think I should date?” My tone is more than a little dubious.
“No, this is a guy I think you should meet and have some fun with. It’s just a night out with friends. End of story.”
I can’t believe I’m letting her talk me into this.
An hour later, the four of us enter the place where Mandy works. For
a Saturday night, Club Hoppin is low key, though it’s still too many people for my anti-social mood. We find a booth in the middle of the club, and I’m glad we steered clear of the tables in the corners, one of which I crawled under and all but attacked Ashton on the night that changed everything.
“Would you ladies like something to drink?” Shane swings his gaze between Mandy and me. The guy’s hot as hell, if you go for that clean cut, I-work-in-an-office type of thing.
Until recently, I did.
Until recently, I did a lot of things differently.
From what I can tell, Shane is nothing like Jake, even if he resembles him in style. Then again, I don’t really know him, and if my past judgments are anything to go by, I suck in that department.
“What are you drinking?” Mandy asks me, nudging my arm.
“Whatever you guys are having is fine with me.”
“Sex on the Beach it is.”
I bite back a groan, barely refraining from doing a face-palm. The guys grin, then they’re off fetching our cocktails. We settle in to wait, people-watching and listening to the hip-hop pulsing through the club. Eventually, Mandy eyes the dance floor, and I try to sink lower into my seat.
“Don’t even think about playing the wallflower tonight. I dragged your depressed ass out to live a little. Let’s dance.”
I bark an incredulous laugh. “Not happening. You know I don’t dance.”
“Who cares? We’ll have a blast anyway.”
“Maybe later, okay? We just got here.”
Her breath whooshes out, disrupting her bangs. “All right, I’ll let you sit this one out, but if you keep being allergic to fun, I’ll drag you out there screaming bloody murder if I have to.”
“Who’s screaming bloody murder?” Shane sets two cocktails onto the table—Mandy’s order of Sex on the Beach, I’m assuming—and Brett’s standing next to him holding two micro brews.
“Your date will be if I can’t get her on the dance floor,” Mandy tells Shane, and I shoot her a warning glare. With a shrug, she feigns innocence.
My best friend knows exactly what she’s doing.
She’s setting me up whether I like it or not, and I walked straight into her we’re-having-a-fun-night-out-with-friends trap. I wonder if I can kill her in her sleep without the neighbors hearing.