One More Chance: A Secret Baby Second Chance Romance

by Brent, Amy

  He rushed up, crashing his wet lips against mine. We sank back to the bed as his arm wrapped around me, and I licked myself off his skin. It tasted divine, like the best way to end the best kind of dinner. His cock pulsed at my entrance, and he dripped onto my skin. His hands sank into the excess of my hips as he lined himself up with me, and I swallowed my groans as he slid himself inside.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

  “Ana. So tight for me. Fuck.”

  We rocked against one another, moving in synch as his hands slid up my arms. Our fingers intertwined and my toes ran up the backs of his legs. His cock filled me to the brim as it slid against my fluttering walls. He felt so good, so big, so thick inside me. Our tongues did battle as I rolled him over, and soon I bounced in his lap.

  “Fuck, Ana. How beautiful you are. Look at those tits dance for me.”

  He reached up and caressed my nipples, drawing a whimper from my throat. I curled my hands into his chest, swiveling my hips as his jaw unhinged. Pleasure coursed over his face. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He massaged my tits and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me in for yet another kiss.

  He growled into my lips before he sat us up, and I felt truly connected to him for the first time in days.

  I sat in his lap, his cock sheathed inside my warmth. We rolled together, moved together, bucked together as he held me close. Our foreheads collided. I breathed his air. My knees pressed into the mattress as his hands fisted my ass cheeks. He rolled me deeper into him, and I felt him touch places he never had before. I gasped against his lips, pressed kisses to his shoulder. I clung to him as tightly as I could, knowing that it very well could be the last time I ever had him like this.

  The last time I could ever love him like this.

  “Oh, Tyler. Don’t stop. Right there. Whatever you’re doing—it’s—”

  “Heaven?”

  I lifted my head from his shoulder and gazed into his eyes. My hips rolled into him as he held me in his lap, taking control of the moment. I threaded my arms around him and dug my nails into his back. I panted and gasped. Moaned and groaned. My skin came alive with goosebumps. His eyes never left mine, and mine never left his. And as his movements became stuttered, I found my legs trembling with the edge I teetered on.

  “Will you come with me?” he asked.

  I nodded my head furiously before I crashed our lips together.

  He slid his cock into me one last time, and I felt him release. My body shook against him as I stilled, his dick shooting threads of cum into my body. The two of us fell to my bed, shaking and trembling in the arms of the other. I swallowed his growls and he swallowed my whimpers as our juices spilled from between my legs.

  And not once did our eyes disconnect.

  Panting for breath, my vision tunneled. Every single part of me released into his arms. I wrapped my leg around his hip and drew him closer, deeper into my pulsing pussy. His body jerked. His jaw quivered. Electricity soared all through my body. Sweat dripped down my brow as he slid his hand along my waist, then wrapped it around my body to pull me closer.

  I didn’t have the energy to speak, to create words, to even make sound. All I had the energy to do was lay there and look at him, gaze into his eyes and commit every sound and scent and movement to memory.

  And when my eyes fluttered closed to sleep, I didn’t feel him pull away like I expected. Instead, I felt him nestle closer, his cock still buried in my body.

  I slept with Tyler in my arms that night, a dream I never thought would become reality again.

  Tyler

  I called Ana again, trying to see if I could get in touch with her. I had cleared my schedule for Thursday and Friday because of my mother’s surgery, and I was hoping to talk with Ana about it. I had one meeting with a client very early that morning, and then it would be time for me to head to the hospital to be there for my mother and help her recuperate from her surgery.

  And I was hoping to talk with Ana about it.

  We hadn’t talked since our encounter Monday night. We decided it would be better if I left before Brody got up, so as not to confuse him too much. And while that hurt, I had understood. Ana didn’t want to set a precedence of me being there in the morning. It felt “too familial,” she said.

  But I wanted things to feel that way.

  I felt myself forgiving her. My anger was dissipating. My love for her was triumphing over everything. However, as I called her for the fourth time on Thursday morning, she was nowhere to be found.

  And it hurt.

  It was my mother’s surgery day, and she knew that. I wanted someone to talk to, and Ana knew that. She had been the one I had wanted to tell once a donor was found. She had been the one I had wanted to confide in. And the day of my mother’s surgery, she wasn’t answering her phone. Not her work phone. Not her personal phone. Hell, I had gone by her house before driving to the hospital and she wasn’t there, either!

  It hurt.

  It sort of felt like I had been betrayed.

  After our family dinner—after losing myself in her and waking up with her in my arms—I knew I had to forgive her. I knew we could be a family again. But families didn’t go through things like this alone. A woman who cared for me wouldn't make me endure something like this alone. I was going to forgive her for hiding my son from me for eight years, and she was nowhere to be found on the one day I needed her the most.

  Maybe Brandon was right. Maybe she really wasn’t the girl I had fallen in love with.

  As I drove to the hospital, I tried her one last time, just to see if maybe she had been busy before. Maybe something had happened with the store. Or fuck, maybe something had happened with Brody. My mind spun with a million different things, but when her voice mail picked up and filled my car, anger bloomed in my gut.

  How could she be so heartless?

  Did she really not care? I knew she and my mother had a rocky relationship, but for fuck’s sake, she was dying. My mother was about to have a liver transplant and she couldn’t put her petty issues off to the side to be here for me when I needed her the most? She didn’t have to see my mother if she didn’t want to. It wasn’t like I was forcing them to have a relationship.

  But at the very fucking least, I wanted Brody there with me for this moment. And if I couldn’t get in touch with her, I couldn't get to my son.

  So, I called the only other person I knew would be there for me, the one person who hadn’t faltered ever since I’d known him.

  “Hey there, stranger. What’s shakin’?” Brandon asked.

  “I’m headed to the hospital. I was hoping you could meet me,” I said.

  “Dude, the hospital? What’s wrong? You okay? Oh shit, is it your mom?”

  “It is, but all good news. We found a donor and her surgery is in an hour.”

  “No shit! Oh man, hell yeah. I’m on my way right now. Let me close up the office. Which hospital is it?”

  “Ronald Reagan.”

  “That’s right. That’s right. I sent flowers there yesterday I think. Did your dad or anyone mention getting any flowers?”

  “Not that I know of, but I’ve been pretty MIA, clearing my schedule to take today and tomorrow off.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll pick some up in the hospital gift shop or something. There’s a good chance I sent them to the wrong hospital.”

  “Leave it to you,” I said, grinning.

  “Is Ana going to be there? Or Brody?”

  My grin automatically fell as I pulled into the parking lot of the hospital.

  “I thought so. Maybe. Ana and I have sort of been rocky, but I thought we were on a good track Monday night. I had dinner with her and Brody, and I got to tuck my son in for the first time.”

  “That’s awesome. Did you tell him a bedtime story?”

  “I did. He’s even calling me Dad now.”

  “Sounds like things are going well on that front.”

  “They are. I told Ana all about this surgery
. She was the first person I could think to call when Dad told me the news—no offense.”

  “None taken. None taken. That’s baby momma and the woman you love. I get it,” he said.

  “But she’s not picking up her phone.”

  “Not at all?”

  “Yeah. I’ve called her five times now, and nothing.”

  “Is it, like, voice mail? Or ringing and then voice mail?”

  “Ringing and then voice mail.”

  “Shit.”

  “And since I can’t get in touch with her—”

  “You can’t get in touch with Brody.”

  “Exactly.”

  “That’s fucked up, Ty. I’m sorry,” he said.

  “I’m just so angry at her. Again. I just got over being angry that she intentionally hid Brody from me, and now this?”

  “You’ve got every right to be angry, especially if she knew the surgery was today. You’re sure you told her it was today?”

  “Even if I hadn’t, we’ve got an agreement that when I call, she answers, and vice versa when she calls me. You know, because of Brody.”

  “But things happen. She can’t just cater to you because you’ve dropped in and want to be Dad.”

  “It’s not my fault I was put in this position,” I said.

  “All I’m saying is, she’s got a life, too. Now, if you told her about today and she’s not picking up, that’s another story altogether. But I know how you get when you’re excited, and it could be that you told her the surgery was happening but weren’t specific on the date or anything.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She’s not picking up her phone. She’s not returning my calls. And she’s not here when I need her the most.”

  “Well, I am. I’m in my car now, Ty. Be there soon.”

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

  “That’s what friends are for.”

  I hung up the call with Brandon and got out of my car. I made my way to my mother’s room and sat with her, held her hand. She was already groggy and drugged up for her surgery, talking about how this was it, how she was done drinking. She would enroll herself in rehab after she recovered from the surgery.

  Brandon came in behind me and gave her a kiss on the forehead, joking about how good she looked for someone with no liver. All of us shared a nice laugh. Brandon had always been good at alleviating tension when there was too much of it.

  But I missed Ana, and I couldn’t stop thinking about where the hell she was.

  I kissed my mother before they rolled her into surgery. Then the three of us went to sit in the waiting room: me, Brandon, and my dad. We sat there with our legs jiggling, our lips being gnawed on, our fingers fidgeting.

  The hours ticked by slowly. So fucking slowly. Her surgery had been scheduled for eight o’clock that morning. I figured it would’ve taken two, maybe three hours. I had missed the surgery briefing due to my stepping out and constantly calling Ana. But when the clock turned over to one in the afternoon and the doctor hadn’t come out to see us, I started to panic.

  “How long is a liver transplant supposed to take?” I asked.

  “Anywhere between seven and twelve hours.”

  I shot out of my chair when the doctor came into the waiting room.

  “Doctor Bradley. Hi. Is everything okay?” my father asked.

  “I wanted to come out here and give you guys an update. We’ve successfully detached the blood supply and we’re about to harvest the liver portion from the donor. I’m thinking now it probably won’t take the full twelve hours. Nine at the most. By four or five o’clock, we should be rolling her out of the operating room and into a recovery room.”

  “But things are going okay for now?” I asked.

  “They’re going very well. I think we can keep our heads above water with this one. Sit tight for a few more hours. We’re almost done,” the doctor said.

  It was painful, waiting that long for my mother to get out of surgery. Apparently, they had to disconnect both the donor and the recipient’s liver from their own blood supply before the transplant could even take place. Then there was the matter of harvesting the tissue, putting it in my mother, stitching everything back up, and reconnecting blood supplies.

  It was a lengthy process.

  I paced endlessly up and down the corridor of the waiting room. Finally, at a little past four, the doctor came back into the room. He told us the surgery went well and Mom was in her own little room coming out of anesthesia now, which caused me to race past the doctor and my father in order to get back to her quicker.

  “Mom? Mom! Where are you?”

  “She’s in here,” a nurse said. “But be quiet. She needs a stress-free environment.”

  She groaned and shifted around in her bed as I sat on the edge of it. I took her hand and brought it to my lips. Her eyes slowly opened, and I saw for the first time that they were white again.

  “Oh, Mom. You look beautiful,” I whispered.

  “I want you to schedule me an appointment for a rehab clinic,” she said.

  She coughed and sputtered as my father came into the room.

  “Sweetheart, how are you feeling?” he asked.

  “I want you and Tyler to get me an appointment for rehab. I’m not doing this again. I can’t do this again. I’m not drinking anymore,” she said.

  “How drugged up is she still?” I asked. I turned my head to look at the doctor as a smile slid across his face.

  “She’s not. We have to wait a period of time between anesthesia and her pain medication so the two don’t overlap.”

  “So she’s not currently drugged?” I asked.

  “Not enough to put her in any sort of a dystopian state.”

  I looked back at my mother and watched as my father leaned over to kiss her.

  “Promise me you’ll find me a rehab,” she whispered.

  “I promise, honey. We’ll find you the best one,” my father said.

  “And we’ll take you straight from the hospital to there, if you want us to,” I said.

  “That sounds good. The sooner I can get through it, the sooner I can get home,” she said.

  “I’m proud of you, Mom. So, so proud of you.”

  Bending over, I kissed her cheek as relief flooded my veins. We had gotten through it. My mother was alive, she was agreeing to rehab, and she was on her way to recuperating from this nightmare we had all found ourselves in.

  I wanted to call Ana with the good news, even if I was still upset with her.

  But just like she hadn’t all morning, not once did she answer my call.

  Ana

  My eyes fluttered open and I stared up at the same ceiling I had been looking at for the past three days. The rhythmic beeping of my heart monitor pulled me from my deep slumber, and I swallowed thickly. My mouth felt dry. My head spun from my nausea. The pain in my side was great, and it wrapped around my entire hip area as I struggled to find the button to release my pain medication.

  I kept hearing my cell phone ring on and off, but I had been too weak over the past couple days to answer it. I knew who it was, though. I knew it was Tyler calling me. And I felt terrible that I couldn’t answer the phone. He needed me. He needed my support and guidance. My care. And I couldn’t give it to him because I was lying helpless in a hospital bed.

  A nurse came in and checked my vitals, then helped me with a glass of water. She sat me up in bed, and I grimaced at the pain. I wondered how long it would take for it to dissipate. I gulped the water down and slowly felt some strength trickle back into my bones. Enough strength to reach for my cell phone. Twelve missed calls. I had twelve missed calls, and all of them had been from Tyler.

  I quickly called him back and held the phone to my ear.

  “Are you serious?” he asked when he answered the phone.

  “Tyler, how are you doing? How is your m-mother?” I asked.

  The pain in my side was throbbing, and the nurse came in to take a look at my wound.

  “I w
ant to see Brody. I want him to come see his grandmother.”

  “How is she, Ty—?” The nurse pressed on my stitches, and it forced me to bite back a whimper.

  “I want my son to see his grandmother, Ana.”

  “He can’t,” I said breathlessly.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s at my parents’.”

  “Then I can go get him. I’ve got him a booster seat. My mother’s doing well and wants to see him, Ana.”

  “Wait, she’s doing well?” I asked.

  The nurse fiddled with my pain pump, switching it out for another before she pressed the button. Instantly, relief flooded my veins. I relaxed back into the pillow as she smiled at me, then grabbed my cup and filled it back up with water.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “Thank you? Who are you with, Ana? Where are you? Why is Brody at his grandparents’?”

  “Because I’m not doing very well right now, Tyler.”

  “Is that why you couldn't be here for my mother’s surgery?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Then why weren’t you here? I called you, Ana. I blew up your damn phone. Where the hell have you been? I needed you. I needed you more than anything, and then you call me—what—four days later and tell me I can’t see my son because you won’t let me pick him up from your parents’?”

  “I’m in the hospital, Tyler!”

  Silence fell on the other end of the line as I sighed and sank back down into my bed.

  “I’m in the hospital. That’s why Brody’s with my parents. And if he’s with my parents, you don’t have a right to barge in on their time together because you want to demand his presence.”

  “What hospital are you at, Ana?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. It matters greatly. What’s wrong? What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  I closed my eyes and sighed as the concern became evident in his voice.

  “I’m at Ronald Reagan.”

  “What? That’s where my mother is. Why didn’t you tell me? What room number are you in?”

  Was this smart? Should I tell him?