Kiss Kiss

by Various Authors

  “You didn’t know about this?” she asked.

  Michael shook his head. “A few days ago, she asked for her allowance early. But it was when Mrs. Brigante was coming by to take her on one of their lunch dates. I just figured she wanted to try to pay.” Michael trailed off, looking back down at the card before he lifted his eyes back to Lauren.

  She smiled softly. “I said yes, by the way.”

  Michael placed the card on the bed as he scooted toward her, wrapping his arm around her lower back and pulling her further against him. He ran his hand softly over her cheek before he smiled. “Did you stare at her blankly for ten minutes before answering, like you did when I proposed?”

  She smirked. “Of course not. It’s only entertaining watching you squirm.”

  He grinned before he leaned in and kissed her softly. “Thank you.”

  “You don’t have to thank me,” Lauren said as she snuggled into his side. “You know how much I love her. I’m beyond honored.”

  Michael laid back with a sigh, blinking up at the ceiling as he intertwined their fingers. “You know, I never believed in the idea of maternal instincts.”

  Lauren lifted her chin and looked up at him, and he smiled down at her sadly. “I mean, between my mother, and Erin’s mother,” he looked back to the ceiling and shook his head. “I just thought that all the crap on television, the mom who bakes cookies with you and kisses your boo-boos, the one who is always there to talk about your problems…I just never believed it.”

  Michael turned his head and looked at her. “But watching you with her? I know it’s a real thing now. Even before this,” he said, holding up the card. “Even before the words. You were already an amazing mother to her.” He leaned down and kissed her temple. “Now it’s just official.”

  Lauren played with the end of his T-shirt. “You think I’m an amazing mom?” she asked softly.

  “I really do,” he answered without hesitation.

  She chewed the side of her lip as she took their clasped hands and rested them on her lower abdomen. “Amazing enough to be the mother of two?”

  For a second there was only silence. Then she felt him shift beside her, and she lifted her eyes to see him staring down at her.

  “What does…are you…?” he fumbled.

  Lauren sat up slowly. “I took the test this morning.”

  She kept her eyes carefully on him as he stared at her in shock.

  And then a breathy laugh fell from his lips, and Lauren smiled.

  He lunged forward, taking her face in his hands as he pulled her mouth to his. “Oh my God,” he said between kisses. “Are you serious? You’re not kidding, are you?”

  Lauren laughed. “I’m not kidding.”

  He kissed her again before he pulled back, still looking at her in awe, and she laughed again.

  Then he lowered his head and planted a soft kiss on her belly.

  She smiled down at him as she laid back onto the pillows, and when he gently rested his head on her abdomen, she closed her eyes and brought her hand to his hair, running her fingers through it.

  “So, do you think you’re ready for this?”

  “Without a doubt,” he said softly.

  “All of it?” she asked. “The swollen ankles, the mood swings, the middle-of-the-night trips to get me some impossible-to-find flavor of ice cream?”

  He laughed softly. “I’ll get you everything you could ever want. I promise.”

  And Lauren smiled, because lying there beside him, with his child growing in her belly, she already had it.

  Unlikely Allies

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Unlikely Allies

  By

  Tiffany King

  www.authortiffanyjking.blogspot.com

  All rights reserved. Published by A.T. Publishing LLC

  Copyright © 2012 by Tiffany King

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Chapter 1

  I gripped the handle of my carry-on rolling suitcase, following the anxious herd of passengers trying to disembark the plane. The slow walk down the jetway finally opened up to an obviously busy day at Denver International Airport. I zigzagged my way along, hoping to find a clearing on the other side of a large rambunctious group of teenage guys who must have been some sort of basketball team, judging by their matching jackets and above average height. Finally finding some space, I gathered myself for a moment, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I released my death grip on the suitcase and shook my hand to get some blood back into my solid white knuckles. After adjusting my art bag and hitching it up higher onto my shoulder, I took a deep breath, looking behind me one last time, reluctant to leave behind my only means of escape. This was the first time I had ever traveled alone, and felt a little panicked at the idea of not having the ever sensible presence of my mom along to guide me. Sensible lying presence, I silently reminded myself as I searched for the luggage carousal. In my current frazzled state, I could think of a hundred reasons to turn around and jump on the first flight back to California. Right now, I could be in my garden shed-turned-art studio or at the sandy beach I normally frequented with my lifelong friends. This was supposed to be our summer. The summer we would all spend together before heading off to separate colleges throughout the country. But one lie had wiped away all my summer plans as if they had been written in the sand on that beach I was wishing for.

  “But, why do you have to go now?” my best friend Carol had wailed as I methodically packed my bags the day before.

  “Because, Car. My whole life's been a lie. She’s lied to me all this time,” I had answered, bitterly nodding my head toward the living room beyond my closed bedroom door where my mom sat.

  “But Kim, what about our plans? You know, capturing the sunrises at the beach with our brushes, working at the art supply store and shopping for stuff for our dorm,” Car had said with a slight tremble to her lip.

  I stopped my almost maniacal packing to look at the girl who had stuck by me through thick and thin. A friend I had known since we were in daycare, who I discovered the joy of finger paints with, and who talked me into tasting glue when we were four years old.

  “Car, I’ll be back in six weeks. My dad asked if I could spend at least that much time with him,” I said, running the foreign word through my head. Dad. I had a dad I knew nothing about, and now he wants to meet me. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. Not broken summer plans or hurt feelings.

  The high-pitched octave of a screaming baby brought me back to reality and I headed off to find baggage claim. Spotting several familiar faces from my flight, I figured I must be heading in the right direction. I was already wishing I’d packed less
stuff in my art bag though. I tried to lighten the weight on my shoulder by wiggling my fingers up under the straps to help alleviate the pressure.

  A long lock of hair fell across my eyes, so I veered out of the flow of walking traffic and dropped my bag to the floor in an aggravated fashion. I gathered my hair together in my hand and coiled it around to make a bun, pulling a pencil from my art bag to secure it into place.

  Come on, Kimberly, you can do this, I urged myself, feeling better now that my hair was in its customary style.

  Finding the right luggage carousel was a piece of cake considering the amount of people who were stacked around it. The scene reminded me of when my mom and I went “Black Friday” shopping a couple years ago. The electronics counter at Target was swarmed by a mob of people all worked into a frenzy while trying to get one of the door buster flat-screen TVs. Sighing, I stepped back and waited for a break in the crowd as the many weary passengers anxiously waited for their bags to make the journey around the carousel. I couldn’t help smiling when watching the different people claim their luggage, like they had won the lottery or something. As for me, I was okay standing here for a few more minutes, trying to untie the knot that had now formed in my stomach.

  “Kimberly?” A gravelly voice asked beside me.

  Startled, I whirled around, taking in the tall muscular man before me, searching for some kind of resemblance. “Rick? I mean, Dad?” I said, feeling stupid as I stuttered over the word.

  “Rick is fine,” he said, smiling awkwardly through the light beard that covered half his face. “You look just like your mom,” he said gruffly.

  “Yeah, so I’ve heard,” I muttered, not quite ready to forgive her for all her lies.

  He raised his eyebrows at me like only an adult can do.

  “It's nice to meet you,” I said, uncomfortably holding out my hand.

  He reached out and shook mine with both his hands. "I'm so glad you decided to come," he said.

  "Me too," I said, stepping away when I spied my bag making its way around the carousel. Using my free hand, I struggled to swing the heavy bag off the moving conveyor belt.

  “Here, I got it,” Rick said, lifting the bag effortlessly for me. He knocked it lightly with his hiking boot-clad foot to get the wheels to spin in the right direction.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking in his rugged clothing for the first time. I knew this was Colorado, but I had expected everyone to be dressed in more summer appropriate clothes like me. Granted, my ankle-length summer dress with full skirt was a little too eccentric for most people, but I had at least expected t-shirts and shorts since it was summertime. Rick, on the other hand, was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved flannel shirt that was rolled several times past his forearm to reveal a white thermal shirt underneath.

  “Ready to hit the road?” he asked, reaching for the handle of my bag. “We've got a long drive ahead of us.”

  “We do?” I asked confused. I had assumed since I landed in Denver that he lived somewhere in the metro area. “Where do you live?” I asked.

  “Your mom didn’t tell you?” he asked.

  I shrugged my shoulders, embarrassed to admit I hadn’t asked her. Now that I was hundreds of miles from her, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty at the way I had left things at home. Yeah, but she lied to you all your life, my thoughts prodded me. But, maybe she had her reasons, the sensible side of me reasoned. I pushed the thoughts aside, deciding now was not the time to analyze them.

  “My camp is roughly four hours away,” he said, leading toward the parking garage.

  “Camp?” I mouthed silently to his retreating back as horror washed over me. Did he say camp? Surely, he had a house, because there was nothing about me that screamed camper. Camping to me was staying at a hotel and making s’mores with the small mini microwaves they provided in the room. The outdoors and I had an understanding. As long as a beach was involved, I was good to go, anything else, and I was out.

  I struggled to keep up with Rick as his long legs propelled him toward the parking garage. I fought the urge to hightail it back into the airport.

  “When you say camp, you mean…?” I gasped, winded from keeping up with him.

  “I run a camp for foster kids,” he said, looking at me with surprise. It was glaringly obvious that he thought Mom would have filled me in on the particulars.

  “Really?” I asked with surprise coloring my voice.

  “It’s the closest thing to having kids of my own…” he said. This time it was his voice that trailed off, obviously regretting his choice of words. His movements in front of me seemed more forced. The lies that had robbed me of the father I had always yearned for had obviously impacted him just as much.

  My inner turmoil was halted after I smacked into his broad back when he stopped abruptly in front of me. He whipped around to steady me with his hands as torment clouded his features. “I would have visited if I'd known,” he said, gripping my arms lightly.

  I nodded my head, fighting back the tears that wanted to come roaring out. For years, I had assumed my father had run for the hills when he’d learned of my existence. As a child, I had been hurt that he wasn’t there, but as I got older, those feelings turned to betrayal that he wasn’t man enough to stick around. My mom never helped matters either. I asked many times over the years about my dad. She would always find ways to side step the question, like claiming it was too painful to talk about, or that she didn't know why he left or where he went. Eventually, I guess I just accepted it and stopped asking. Not that my life had been bad. Mom had always gone above and beyond trying to fill the void. She worked hard to make sure we were always financially secure as she struggled to put herself through night classes to become a teacher. We weren’t wealthy by any means, but I always appreciated the sacrifices she made for me. I’d always regarded her as someone who had persevered even though she’d been handed a raw deal. All her sacrifices now seemed somehow less meaningful. For reasons only she knows, she had decided seventeen years ago to make herself a martyr unnecessarily. Standing before me was living, breathing proof.

  “I know,” I said, believing him.

  “Okay,” he said, dropping his hands from my arms and resuming his faster-than-humanly-possible pace.

  “Um, you think you could slow down a little for those of us who don’t have stilts for legs,” I said, going for sarcasm to cover the awkwardness of the whole situation. I was by no means a social leper, but I was spoiled from the luxury of knowing all the same people my whole life. Meeting new people always made me feel initially uncomfortable anyway, so imagine meeting your father for the first time at seventeen years old.

  “Oops, sorry,” he said, sounding as uncomfortable as I felt. He looked over his shoulder at me lagging behind and shortened his stride. “Your mom always lagged behind too,” he added, obviously trying to ease the tension.

  “She did?” I asked, struck by curiosity. I hadn't given her a chance to explain anything once she told me about Rick, and that she never told him about me. You would think maybe I would have peppered her with questions, but it was like a steel door had closed, blocking the closeness we had always shared. I felt betrayed all these years by a father I knew nothing about and then she drops a bomb on me. It was like a punch in the face. I was more willing to hear it from an equal victim in the whole situation.

  “Yeah," Rick continued. "She’d grudgingly tag along with me when I went hiking when we were in high school.

  “Really?” I asked skeptically. Mom’s tolerance for the outdoors fell under the same category as mine. Nonexistent.

  He chuckled at my skepticism. “Well, I did say grudgingly. Usually, we had to work out a trade, hiking for a day at the beach.”

  “Now that sounds like Mom. Always the negotiator,” I said, feeling the first stirrings of homesickness. Mom and I had always gotten along so well that I never had the typical gripes all my friends had about their parents. Leaving the way I did had left a hole the size of Kansas in my ches
t. I was still mad she’d lied to me all these years, but I couldn’t erase the heartbroken look on her face when she dropped me off at the airport earlier that morning.

  “Yeah, Kate was always the negotiator,” he said, stopping in front of an oversized SUV that looked roughly the size of a small bus. I thought they had stopped making these monstrous vehicles a while back when gas prices began their steady hike up. I shuddered at the idea of filling up the obvious gas-guzzler. I wasn't exactly a total earth-friendly nut like some of my other artistic friends, but I did try to do my share of conserving our natural resources. I’d stick with my cute used Honda Civic my mom helped me buy as an early graduation present.

  “So, your mom tells me you’re headed to UCLA in the fall,” Rick said, pulling his “tank” out of the narrow parking spot.

  I grimaced as he came within an inch of the bumper of the sleek sports car next to us. “Um, yeah,” I said, waiting for the grinding sound of metal on metal that never came. I sighed with relief when he pulled out of the parking garage after what seemed to me like several near misses. “I was accepted into their art program.”

  “That’s what Kate said. That’s a tough program, isn’t it? You must be pretty talented,” he added, flashing me a smile for the first time

  I flushed at the praise. It seemed surreal to be talking about my college plans with my dad. “I guess it’s because I’ve been doing it for years,” I said, trying not to brag.

  “Talent is talent,” he said. “You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished. I’m hoping to see some of your talent this summer,” he added.

  “Sure,” I said, liking the idea of being able to draw the Colorado Rocky Mountains. Maybe living so far from town wasn’t as bad as I first imagined it would be. I’d even give hiking a shot, so I might have a chance at seeing some wildlife. My specialty was murals, but I’d wanted to broaden my portfolio for a while. I felt lighthearted at the thought. I wouldn’t be spending the summer in my art studio or on the beach, but lounging around in the mountains might not be all that bad either.