Porter: Men of Lovibond (Mend of Lovibond Book 3)

by Georgia Cates

  “I think I know how this is going to end, but please call me and let me know how it goes.”

  “I will.”

  “I love you, son. And I pray it works out.”

  “Me too.” But I’m not holding my breath.

  “You're acting weird today. Are you that nervous about talking to my dad?”

  “About that. We're going to need to postpone again. There’s something you and I need to discuss.”

  “Okay. What do we need to discuss?”

  “I don't want to have that conversation here.”

  She laughs. “You can't say that and then expect to not have that conversation here.”

  I grasp her hand. “You need to come with me.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Home.”

  “We've only been at work for an hour, and you already want to leave to go have sex? You’re turning into a real nympho.”

  I stop in the hallway before we get to the front door. “No, Frankee.”

  “O… kay. You're starting to sort of freak me out.”

  I don't reply because I have no reassuring words for her.

  She knows something is up, and neither of us says a word on the drive to my condo. The tension is so thick it feels like a blanket wrapped around me. Closing in on me. Smothering me.

  We enter the condo, and she stands next to the sofa with her arms wrapped around herself as I sit at the end.

  “Sit down.”

  “I don't want to sit down.”

  I lean forward with my head in my hands, my forearms resting on my thighs. “Fuck, I don’t know how to do this.”

  “How to do what?”

  I don't reply or look up at her.

  “You're scaring me, Porter.”

  I get up and go to her, wrapping my arms around her tightly. I press my nose to her hair and inhale deeply, savoring the moment because I know this could be the last time I ever hold her this way. “I love you so much. I don't think you really know how much.”

  “Please tell me what this is about.”

  I can procrastinate no longer.

  “The woman who came to the brewery last night.”

  “Your business associate?”

  “She's not my business associate.”

  She stiffens in my arms. “Who is she to you?”

  I release her because I know she’s going to fight me if I don’t.

  “I had a one-night stand with her a few months ago. But I swear it happened before you. There's been no one else since you.”

  “Okay. I knew there were women before me. I don't like it, but I can handle that as long as the past stays in the past.”

  “The past isn't staying in the past.”

  “Did you tell her we were together?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why did she come to see you if she was a one-night stand?”

  This is it. The moment that is forever going to define the rest of my life. “She's pregnant.”

  Frankee stares at me, and I swear I can see the blood draining from her face. “Say the rest of it. Say the rest, so I can hear it come out of your mouth.”

  “She says the baby is mine.”

  Frankee squeezes her eyes shut, and her erratic breathing causes her chest to shudder. Her eyes are closed, but tears still form in the corners. They drop down her face onto her shirt, forming dark spots on the fabric.

  “I’m so fucking sorry. I swear to God, I would take back that night if I could.”

  “Do you think it belongs to you?”

  I inhale deeply and slowly release my breath. “It’s possible.” I hate admitting that.

  Frankee sits on the sofa and covers her face with her hands. “We were in such a good place, and this ruins everything.”

  “It ruins everything only if you decide it ruins everything. We can still be happy.”

  “You’re having a baby with another woman. That puts a huge damper on our love life.”

  “It happened before you.”

  “You said that already. But guess what? The consequences of you fucking her—your baby being inside her—are happening right now.” Frankee shakes her head. “You're not a dumb teenager. How did you let that happen?”

  “I do not fucking know. I was careful.”

  “Not fucking careful enough.”

  “She has asked me to be a part of the baby’s life.”

  “A paternity test would rule you out if you’re not the father. I can’t imagine her asking you to do that if she isn’t confident that the baby is yours.”

  I hadn’t considered that. “Where does this leave us?”

  “I don’t know. My head and my heart are on an out-of-control emotional roller coaster. I can’t think because all I want to do is puke.”

  “We can get through this. I know we can.”

  “I consider myself a strong person, but I don’t know if I can handle someone else being pregnant with your baby. That’s a tough one for any woman to endure.”

  “It’s killing me that I’m hurting you this way.”

  I can’t lose her over this. She means too much to me.

  I drop to my knees on the floor in front of her. I will beg her to stay, with no shame, if that’s what it takes. “I love you, Frankee. I don’t want to lose you over this. Please don’t leave me.”

  Tears stream down her face. “Another woman is having your baby. Not me. You can’t imagine how that breaks my heart.”

  “We can still get married and have babies, just like we talked about. This does not change that.”

  “I wanted to be the one—the only one—to give you babies. Knowing that she has that part of you growing inside her… it taints it for me.”

  I press my forehead to her knees. “Please don’t say that.”

  “I can’t help it. It disgusts me to know she’s pregnant by you. Think about if the roles were reversed and I just found out I was pregnant by a one-night stand that happened right before we started dating. How would that make you feel? To know that some other man had a part of himself growing inside me?”

  That thought sickens me. And it’s just a thought, not a reality. “I would lose my fucking mind.”

  “When you said that you wanted to see me holding your baby, I never imagined its mother would be another woman.”

  Hearing her say that breaks my heart down the middle.

  “I fucked up. No doubt about it, but this doesn’t have to be the end of us. We could come out stronger on the other side because we survived this hurdle.”

  “It’s a big hurdle, one I’m not sure I’ll be able to get over.”

  “We can do it together, baby. I know I’ve let you down, but we can turn this around. I’ll do whatever it takes if you’ll just give me the chance.”

  “That’s the thing. This isn’t a case where you need to right a wrong; you haven’t wronged me. This is about me and whether I can come to accept your having a baby with someone else.”

  I grip her hips and press my face against her lap. “I wish it were you having my baby. Fuck, it should be you.”

  “But it’s not.”

  And it may never be. Because I have fucked up that badly.

  “Let’s not go back to work.”

  “I don’t think I can go back to work. But I also don’t think I can stay here.”

  “Don’t say that. I need you to be here with me now more than ever.”

  “I need time—and distance—to figure this out.”

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know.” She leans away from me. “Can you please take me to my car?”

  Again, we don’t speak during the drive back to the brewery. I hate every second of the silence. But what I hate more is watching her get into her car and drive away, not knowing when—or if—I’ll see her again.

  She needs time. And I owe her that without being in her face.

  Porter: Take off the rest of the week.

  Porter: I’ll take care of everything.

  Porter
: I love you.

  No response. Maybe because she’s driving. Maybe because this is it.

  Fucking incredible how one small moment can change the entire course of your life.

  I’m losing the one thing I love most in this world. I feel it happening. She’s slipping through my fingers. And there’s not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

  I pick up my phone to check the texts that came through while I was driving home. All three from Porter. I want so badly to reply. To tell him I love him too. To tell him not to worry because this is going to be okay. But I just can’t bring myself to do it. Because the truth is that I’m not sure everything is going to be okay.

  I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m jealous.

  I love Porter, so how could I not be?

  I go to my bedroom and fall into my bed, curling into a ball. I want to shut it all off.

  The pain. The sadness. The envy.

  The disappointment. The remorse. The regret.

  We were so happy last night. Making love. Talking about marriage. A baby. Our baby. The one he wanted to give me as soon as I’d let him. The one with the wild Beckman hair.

  Not one he’s having with another woman.

  I lie on my side with my legs curled into my chest most of the day, tossing from one side to the other. I occasionally doze off for brief periods, and it’s the only bit of escape my heart gets from drowning in misery.

  The sun streaming through my window has moved lower. Everyone will be home soon. And the questions will begin.

  What’s wrong? Why are you in bed? Why have you been crying?

  I don’t want to answer everybody’s questions. I just want to be left alone.

  The first knock on my bedroom door comes and it’s my mom. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “I’m lying down because I don’t feel well. I was thinking I might take a nap.”

  She comes into my bedroom and sits on the bed beside me. “You sound congested. Do you have a headache?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let me bring you some medicine to help with that. It’ll help you sleep.”

  I won’t turn down something that will help me forget about this mess. “That would be great.”

  My mom returns with a glass of water and two large gelcaps and flips on my bedroom light. “Well, Frankee. I think you’re getting sick. Your eyes are red and swollen.” She touches the top of her hand to my forehead. “But you don’t have fever.”

  “Probably just cold and sinus stuff.”

  “You’ve been working a lot lately. Your body probably needs some rest. This will knock you out for at least eight hours.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay. I’ll poke my head in later to check on you.”

  I’m waiting for sleep to claim me when my phone vibrates.

  Porter: You never responded to my texts.

  Porter: I’m worried.

  Porter: Are you ok?

  Frankee: No. I’m not ok.

  Porter: I’m coming over.

  Frankee: Don’t.

  Porter: I don’t want to be apart when you’re not ok.

  Frankee: I need you to stay away. That’s what I need right now.

  Porter: We should be together.

  Porter: Figuring this out.

  Frankee: No.

  Frankee: I don’t want to think about it anymore.

  Frankee: I’m going to sleep.

  Porter: Ok. I’ll leave you alone.

  Porter: For now.

  Porter: I love you, baby.

  Porter: So much.

  I love him with every piece of my shattered heart, but I still can’t bring myself to tell him right now. It feels too much like saying that this is going to be okay.

  I don’t know if it was the medication or state of mind, but my night was nothing more than restless cycles of sleep, nightmares, and waking. Same pattern over and over all night long. Exhausting.

  I wake to texts from Porter.

  Porter: Checking on you.

  Porter: Please text back so I know you’re ok.

  Porter: Frankee?

  Porter: Please answer me.

  He’s sent four texts over the last two hours. I was so dead to the world that I didn’t hear my phone once.

  Frankee: I’m fine.

  Frankee: As fine as I can be.

  Porter: Thank you for texting back.

  Porter: I’m going to back off and give you the time you want.

  Porter: But please let me know if you need anything.

  Porter: Anything at all. Ask and it’s yours.

  Porter: I love you.

  I withheld my love from Porter yesterday and last night because I was angry and in pain. I used it as a way to punish him. But he’s hurting and in pain too. He hates this as much as me. Probably more.

  This situation is far from being okay, but my love for Porter hasn’t changed. And I don’t want him thinking it has.

  Frankee: I love you too.

  Porter: You don’t know how badly I needed you to say that.

  There’s a soft tap at my door before my mom opens it. “Hey. Feeling better?”

  “Yes.” No. I feel just as shitty today as I did last night.

  “Do you need anything? I can make you some breakfast if you’re hungry.”

  “I don’t think I can eat.”

  “Are you staying home from work?”

  Mom and Dad don’t know I got the full-time graphic and marketing position at Lovibond. And I’m keeping it that way until I figure out this situation. “Porter has given me the rest of the week off.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I finished my jobs ahead of time, so he told me to take off.” I hate lying to my mom but I’m not ready to tell her what’s going on.

  “Toni is having some trouble with her babysitter. She’s already lost two days’ work this week because of it. She called your dad this morning, and she’s going to be out today too. It might be nice if you offered to keep Willow and Keeley for her since you’re free.”

  Toni works with my dad in the warehouse. We’re about the same age but our lives couldn’t be more different. She’s raising two little girls on her own because her husband is in jail.

  “I can keep the girls the rest of the week.” All I’m going to do is sit here and wallow in misery anyway. I might as well do something to take my mind off this shitty situation.

  “I know Toni will be happy to hear that. And your dad too.”

  “She probably needs me to pick them up so she isn’t late.”

  “You could offer to get them at the brewery instead of driving out to her house. That would be faster for both of you.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Your dad will call her. What time do you want to tell her you’ll be there?”

  “Ten ‘til.”

  I get to the brewery a few minutes early. I park facing the entrance so I don’t miss seeing Toni when she arrives. Which means I also don’t miss seeing Porter either.

  Damn. He looks good in those jeans and that T-shirt, getting out of that big black truck.

  I’m not in my usual parking place so he doesn’t spot me. I get to take full advantage of watching him from afar.

  Toni is running a little late. I suspect that’s nothing unusual with two little ones. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I hope you haven’t been waiting on me for long.”

  “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  It’s only a few minutes until she needs to clock in, so I get out and help her transfer the kids into my car. I lift Keeley out of her car seat. “Oooh, when did you get so big, Kiki?”

  Willow gets out of her booster seat and runs over to squeeze my leg. “I’ve missed you, Frankee.”

  “I know. I haven’t seen you in a long time. I’m so happy you’re going to stay with me the next few days.”

  “You don’t know what a lifesaver you are.”


  “Happy to help. Now go on and clock in before you’re late. I know how to buckle the girls.”

  “Thank you so much.” Toni quickly kisses her daughters. “I’ll see you after work. Be good for Frankee.”

  Keeping Willow and Keeley the last three days has been a nice distraction from my fixation about Porter and… baby mama. Damn. I don’t even know that woman’s name.

  But I lie in the bed every night thinking of him. And how much I miss him. How much I miss his touch. How much I miss making love.

  I don’t feel whole without him.

  I’ve thought of every scenario. Reflected about it. Considered the aftermath. And every outcome is the same.

  Watching this woman grow with his child will be painful. Having her in our lives forever will be a struggle. Being a stepmother to this child will be hard.

  Going through this with Porter will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever endured. But living without him will be harder. I don’t want to live without him.

  If this baby is part of his life, then this baby is part of my life.

  And that’s all.

  Frankee: I’m ready to talk.

  Porter: Meet at my place?

  Frankee: Ok. What time?

  Porter: I have a few things to finish before I can leave. 7:00 ok?

  Frankee: I’ll be there.

  Frankee: I can come early and cook dinner if you want.

  Porter: I would love that.

  Frankee: See you then.

  Porter: I love you.

  Frankee: Love you too.

  I feel good about this decision. It feels right.

  I’m dipping a chicken tender into an egg wash when the doorbell rings. “Hang on a minute,” I call out.

  I do a quick handwashing and go to the door, drying my hands on a towel. My heart jumps into my throat when I see it’s her. Baby mama.

  A woman has many looks. She can be casual. She can be stylish. She can be somewhere middle of the road. But she can also show intention with the way she’s dressed. And this woman is here with one intention in mind: to fuck.