4 Men Of The House with correct Also By page

by Knight, Natalie

  “Do you want me to go now?” I swallow hard, hoping the awkwardness is all in my own head.

  Rose immediately shakes her head, giving some reassurance to my troubled thoughts. She gives me a funny look, as if she’s trying to analyze what I’m thinking and get inside my mind.

  “Do you want to go?” Rose asks, furrowing her brows.

  I slowly approach her as if she’s a lion in a cage because I don’t want to set her off-balance more than she already appears to be.

  When I’m only inches away, I place a hand on her arms and give them a gentle squeeze of affection.

  “Do you want to go with me, or are you going to stay?” I whisper, casting my eyes down at her gorgeous face.

  Rose seems to be contemplating her answer, formulating it in her mind. I watch her as her features move with her conflicting emotions.

  “I’ll just let everyone know that we’re going.”

  She shrugs with ease, and I struggle to discern what will happen next.

  My first reaction is to heave a sigh of relief. It’s clear as glass that Rose is suspicious of something, and the little condom problem I have might place a wedge between us unless I find a savvy way to figure this shit out.

  But we also just had some of the most amazing sex of my life, and I think she feels the same way. There’s a connection there between us. Something real that has nothing to do with babies or heirs or fucking condoms.

  I’m not going to lie, I’m scared shitless that when time comes, when we make this deal, I may not be able to deliver.

  I usually wouldn’t give a fuck. I’m not the relationship kind of guy. Or at least I wasn’t.

  But no, I’m not sure where the fuck my head’s at. Rose has this intense effect on me, and I’m losing control fast.

  I bite my lip and cast my eyes to the floor, not wanting to look Rose in the eye right now. If I do that, all my secrets might be revealed.

  Wait a minute…isn’t honesty always the best policy? Or do you sometimes run the risk of hurting the ones you care about the most that way?

  I run my hands through my hair and pace while Rose goes to say her goodbyes. Looking out the window, the darkness mirrors the way I feel inside. I’m not in a panic yet, but I suppose I need to tell Rose now before everything blows up in my face.

  Everything could go wrong if I’m elusive. Like the night sky outside the window reflecting back to me, it’s not fair for me to leave Rose in the dark regarding something of such importance. Not with what she really wants out of me.

  She comes back in just a few minutes.

  “I think I spoke to everyone, and we can sneak out of here without doing the walk of shame,” she says with a laugh.

  We walk out of the bedroom, and her relatives bombard us as soon as we appear. Well, so much for that.

  Rose looks like a deer in headlights. I can’t deal with this shit right now, but I know I have no other choice but to take one for the team.

  Her tipsy uncle with the receding hairline approaches me and points a finger directly in my face, reeking of booze.

  One of her female cousins whistles and claps, teasing us and asking us where we’ve been. Rose turns beet red and, honestly, I feel incredibly sorry for her in this moment.

  Who knew a birthday party could turn into such a spectacle and fiasco?

  The drunken uncle takes wobbly steps around me. I have two choices here. I can either blow it off, take it all in stride, and appease Rose, or I can punch the guy in the face and run out the door before I’m kicked out.

  Obviously, the latter choice is a bit of an overkill, so I decide to take a deep breath and give the uncle a polite smile through my clenched teeth.

  That’s when Rose’s father approaches and pats me on the back, as if to say, Way to go, son.

  What. The. Fuck.

  As if this moment can’t get any more embarrassing.

  I shoot a glance at Rose, who looks absolutely mortified, but her cousins are all doting on her and playing with her hair as they whisper and cluck back and forth with Rose in the center.

  “You’re going to treat this one right, aren’t you, boy?” The balding uncle is making the accusatory statement, trying to afflict me with some sort of emotional damage or some shit.

  “Absolutely, sir,” I respond affirmatively, but holy fucking hell is this awkward.

  No matter, though. I’m not looking at the uncle, I don’t give a flying fuck what his drunk ass thinks. I’m caught up in staring at the beauty and splendor of Rose.

  “That’s great to hear,” Rose’s father gives me another unwanted slap on the back, but I smile at him with attempted enthusiasm.

  “Thank you, sir,” I say and shove my hands in my pockets because I don’t know what the fuck else to do with them at the moment. This is probably the most uncomfortable moment of my life.

  “Can I get your guarantee?” The obnoxious uncle just won’t fucking quit.

  “Let me guess, I need your seal of approval?” I attempt a joke, and it goes off with flying colors as the drunk men roar with laughter.

  I sneak another glance at Rose, who’s wincing but seems to be relaxing somewhat the longer we stand here and endure this shit.

  Rose’s dad is getting ready to speak up again, his mouth hanging open mid-breath, but Rose interjects, stepping in front of him.

  “Okay, Dad,” she says, acting as a moderator, gently pushing her father back a few strides. “That’s enough.”

  “Hey, come on,” her father teases. “We’re just having a little fun with your new friend. It’s a rite of passage, you know.”

  Rose rolls her eyes and doesn’t take her father’s bait. “Now you know why I never bring boyfriends home,” she says with exasperation and takes my hand as we move to the front door.

  “Goodbye, everyone.” She does a slight curtsy and waves her hand through the air as we make our way out the door.

  “Okay, so I guess we’re going now.” I grin at her.

  After I help her climb into the passenger seat, I pull out of the driveway.

  “Well, that was brutal.” I’m aiming for a lighthearted conversation, but when I glance over at Rose, she’s staring out at the world as it whizzes past us. I’m not even sure she realizes I’m speaking to her.

  “Hey, at least we got to have some play time in your room upstairs.” I chuckle again and rub her thigh, but she subtly retreats, moving her leg closer to the car door and further away from my touch.

  Rose sighs, as if she’s deep in thought, and reclines in her chair, so I allow her to be consumed by her mind, unbothered.

  I’m tired from that whirlwind of a night and from having to deal with overbearing relatives that I don’t know―but I’m grateful for the quality time with Rose, at least.

  The freeway is never ending, and I don’t think I’ll ever reach my destination with Rose if I don’t come clean about the condom thing. It’s like a fucking albatross around my neck. I know I have to tell her, especially if she’s starting to feel anything at all for me, like I am for her.

  Hell, even if she’s not, she needs to know I can hold up my end of the deal.

  I mean, there’s obviously something bothering her. Maybe it has nothing to do with me. Maybe it’s her family.

  I don’t know, but I just wish she would tell me what it is so I can at least try to help her work through it.

  I decide against my better judgment to press her a little further. Maybe a nudge is all she needs to open the floodgates.

  It’s my goal to cheer her up, no matter how distant and preoccupied she’s behaving right now.

  “Hey,” I whisper softly, going for a gentler effect this time.

  Rose slowly turns her head and gives me an expectant gaze. “What?”

  I clutch the steering wheel and dive right in. “Is there something on your mind?”

  Rose gazes out the front windshield. “No.”

  “Really?” I ask with surprise, all my senses on alert now. Because, yeah, there
really fucking is. “Are you sure? Nothing is wrong that you want to talk about?”

  “Did you not like my family?” Rose asks defensively.

  “What?” I shake my head ardently. “No, of course not. Why would you think...” I trail off because I’m fucking stunned at her question.

  It’s not what I was expecting—probably because I’m so fucking stuck in my own head—and frankly, I’m not sure how to respond to it.

  Rose continues to stare out the window. “Good.”

  “I know they’re protective of you,” I say.

  Rose scoffs as if what I’m saying is humorous. “They can be a bit much, you don’t have to lie.”

  “I’m not lying…” I trail off again. Then, a thought comes in my head that I know Rose can relate to. “I have a huge family, too. I mean, you should meet them. Meeting your family was a cakewalk compared to what that would be like. But overbearing or not, ninety-nine percent of the time, they love us and just want the best for us.”

  My comment seems to break Rose from her little spell a little bit. “Yeah…that’s the truth.”

  “So, nothing’s wrong?” I grin and try to make myself look totally fucking irresistible.

  Rose looks back at me with a small smile on her face. “No.”

  “No, nothing’s wrong?” I just need to nail down a correct assumption here. “We’re good?”

  “We’re good.” Rose nods and looks back out her window briefly before rubbing her temples.

  I’m still not convinced―she still seems detached, indifferent to me

  I try not to take offense. Maybe she’s just tired, like me. It was a long night after all.

  Pushing ahead, I let her know the plans for the night, if she’ll agree to them. “We’re heading back to my penthouse to spend the night there.”

  I’m met with silence. I mean, I can almost hear fucking crickets in the car between us.

  “Rose?” I inquire once more. “Is that alright with you? Do you want to spend the night with me?”

  I hold my breath, but it doesn’t take long for her to respond.

  “Yes,” she confirms. “I’ll spend the night with you.”

  Okay, so we’re establishing she’s spending the night. That’s progress, right? Hopefully it’s all uphill from here.

  Because there’s one thing I’m certain of: I want to move forward with Rose, whatever that actually means.

  Rose

  I keep my eyes on the passersby outside the passenger side window. The problem is too personal to just blurt out in the car. Of course, I appreciate his concern, but I don’t want to raise it like this.

  Anyway, how do I approach the matter? Do I just come out and tell him, Hey, so why are you carrying like a hundred condoms with you at all times? No.

  I mean it’s not really a problem, is it? I shake my head a little. Of course not. It’s totally okay to wear a condom. Good, actually.

  Mentally, I make a list of all the reasons why wearing a condom during sex is a good thing. It’s a pretty long one.

  Next, I compare the list to why it’s a problem. Of course, I can really only come up with one reason—a pretty major one, though.

  Let’s face it, girlfriends. If I’m going to have his baby, he will need to fuck me without a condom at some point in time.

  But this might be where my problem is. I’m getting way ahead of myself.

  We haven’t actually agreed to that, so maybe I’m the one being obsessive here. Maybe he’s just looking out for me, protecting me in case we call the whole thing off.

  When he pulls up outside his luxury penthouse, I stay in my seat.

  “Um,” he starts and looks at me. “Are you not getting out?”

  It’s my turn to be confused.

  “Are you leaving your car?” I ask and bite my tongue. I wish I hadn’t said that. Standing on the curb is a smartly dressed man. Why am I letting all my insecurities about the status of our relationship/business deal come out as scathing remarks?

  “Not for long,” he replies and comes over to hold my door open.

  When we walk into his penthouse, I hold my breath for a few seconds and let my eyes feast on what’s on offer.

  The most exquisite nutmeg-colored wooden floorboards gleam in the artificial light, offset by a beige-gray wall color with fancy artwork hanging here and there. Like the gentleman he is, Daniel takes my coat and places it on a hook near the door. Then he walks me into the living room.

  Here, I’m greeted by huge floor-to-ceiling glass windows and a half-moon black leather lounge.

  It’s minimalist, but tastefully decorated. I slip out of my shoes and walk over to the grand piano I spot in a corner.

  I let my fingers move over the white keys, playing the E-major scale. Old habits die hard.

  “You play?” I ask, a little surprised to find such a valuable piece in his apartment.

  Daniel shrugs. “A little.”

  I squint and stare at him. I don’t think he’s telling me the whole truth.

  From the piano, I move to the huge windows and feast on the view. It’s breathtaking.

  Below me is the entire cityscape. The lights make it look like a fairy village. I smile.

  “Wow,” I say and turn to him.

  Daniel is standing by a small bar. For the first time, I notice the large spiral staircase leading to an upper floor. I wonder if that’s where the bedroom is.

  “Drink?”

  “What can you offer?” I try to sound playful, but my mind is still elsewhere. From time to time, I’m like a dog with a bone—I can’t let go of something when it starts troubling me. And unfortunately, the whole condom thing is troubling me.

  God, I wish I could just let it go.

  I can’t explain it. I’ve always been like this. As soon as I fixate on something, I can’t let it go until I’ve got an explanation or a solution.

  Apparently, this obsession of mine used to drive my poor mother insane. No one was safe from my questions and persistence if I couldn’t understand something right away. Like one day, Dad brought home a word search, and I didn’t rest until I completed every last exercise.

  “Martini, cocktail, vodka and orange.”

  I laugh. “How about a lemon-lime and bitters?”

  I watch Daniel’s expert movements preparing drinks for a while, then I turn back to the view. I know it’s not of mountains or the ocean, but it’s pretty amazing.

  To think, below us are people going about their business, partying in nightclubs, and finding their way to their little homes. And here I am on top of the world.

  His arms wrap around me from behind and hand me my drink. A little of the pink bubbly liquid spills onto the shiny floorboards.

  “Oops, sorry,” I mumble and go to bend down and clean it up.

  But his arms stop me from moving. He’s kissing me on my neck, nibbling on my ear lobe, and sucking on the spot just underneath.

  My knees instantly turn to jelly, and my head leans against his chest.

  “Something’s bothering you,” he whispers into my ear. “I can tell.”

  It’s strange how Daniel is also not letting go of the matter. We’re more alike than I thought. I mean, in a way, we seem worlds apart. Just looking around here where he lives ―compared to my little sardine tin of a flat―only highlights this to me.

  And yet, he’s also not letting go of my change in mood. He’s totally in tune with me.

  I turn to face him. He doesn’t release me, and I’m still trapped in his arms. It makes me feel secure, wanted, almost loved.

  The words I want to say die on my lips. I can’t possibly tell him what’s troubling me. I mean, it’s just ridiculous. Let it go, Rose, I tell myself. Let it go.

  “Nothing’s wrong.” I try to put as much emphasis on the nothing and wrong as I can.

  It really shouldn’t matter.

  I try to tell myself to relax. I mean, I should look around and live in the moment. Enjoy the luxury. When was the last time one of m
y ex-boyfriends took me to their place, and it looked like this?

  That’s an easy answer.

  Never.

  I have to remember: Daniel isn’t an ordinary run-of-the-mill man. Daniel is special, and we’re still in the getting-to-know-you phase to see if—and I have to remember it’s only an if—I should take it to the next level by having a baby with him.

  “It’s because of the condom, isn’t it?”

  I’ve just taken a sip of my drink when Daniel puts my concern into words.

  I nearly choke on it. I cough and splatter and cough some more. Tears stream from my eyes.

  Daniel rubs my back gently. It’s a very caring, personal gesture.

  Then he takes me by the hand and leads me to the black leather lounge.

  I feel as if I’m melting into the leather. I’ve never sat on a couch as soft as this. It hugs my body, and I don’t think I’ll ever want to get up again.

  “Okay.” His concerned eyes are looking straight at me.

  I already feel really bad for having raised the matter at all―in body language, if not actual words. It really was so silly of me.

  I’m about to tell him it doesn’t matter, but he puts his index finger on my lips.

  “Shh,” he says, gently but firmly. “I’ll need to tell you at some point in time anyway, so I may as well make it now.”

  Something hard and cold squeezes my heart. Is there something wrong with him? Maybe he’s fatally ill, which of course would explain this whole wanting an heir thing.

  Oh, my god. That’s it. He’s dying.

  Here I was, getting drawn in by his charm and wanting to have his baby―and maybe so much more―and he’s about to die.

  I press my hand to my mouth, my eyes wide, not wanting to hear what he has to say, but needing to know all the same.

  “It’s…” He starts and stops again. “As you must understand, this is fucking difficult to talk about.”

  Difficult? Do I understand?

  Now I feel more of those tears well up in my eyes. If I’m not careful, I’ll start bawling my eyes out before he’s even started to tell me the bad news.

  I wonder how long he’s got? Are we talking days, months, or years? Would the baby even get to know his or her father?