The Miracle Baby Box Set: Volume One: Books 1 - 4

by Hamel, B. B.

  “Try something,” I say, the words harsh in my mouth. “Go ahead.”

  He just nods and moves his hand. I shove the door shut and flip the lock into place.

  Ryan looks up at me as I walk back over to the table, head spinning with that weird interaction. I sit down and he just stares at me, jostling a little bit in his seat.

  Crap, I almost forgot. “Sorry, bud,” I say to him. “Present isn’t here yet, but I promise something’s coming.”

  He nods, a little disappointed, but I’m too distracted to feel guilty.

  We go through the rest of his routine, but it feels hollow. I should love this, since it’s my first night with him completely without Leah, but it’s tainted by that bastard’s visit.

  He thinks we’d actually sell my boy, which is disgusting. Those are the kind of people that raised Harper, and they’re the reason she’s dead. I’m going to keep Ryan away from them no matter what, no matter how much money they offer or how violent they get. I’ll never let them have him, not ever.

  I read him a story, put him into bed, and head back into the main apartment. I grab a drink from Leah’s refrigerator, and wait for her to get home, buzzing with anger.

  10

  Leah

  I get home, exhausted from my absurd double shift, to find Connor sitting on the couch and drinking a glass of whiskey.

  He looks up at me and nods. “Hard day?” he asks.

  “Yeah,” I say, tossing my bag on the table and sitting down for what feels like the first time in years.

  He slowly gets up and joins me. “Ryan was good tonight,” he says.

  “Yeah? How’d he eat?”

  “Chicken nuggets and broccoli.”

  “His favorite.” I can’t help but smile and shake my head.

  “Also so happens it’s the only thing I know how to make.”

  “Match made in heaven.” I nod at his glass. “Found my whiskey?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Hope you don’t mind. It’s awful.”

  I laugh and stretch my legs. “Can’t remember when I got that bottle, which means it’s pretty old.”

  “Good whiskey never goes bad, it just gets more complex.” He sips it and makes a face. “Okay, maybe I was wrong.”

  “Would you mind getting me some wine?”

  “Sure,” he says, getting up. “You hungry?”

  “Why, thinking about heating up some nuggets?”

  “I’ll make you the best nuggets you’ve ever had,” he says. “Better believe it.”

  I laugh a little and watch as he pours me a drink. It feels oddly comfortable, like it’s totally normal to have him waiting for me on the couch after a long day at work. I can’t pretend like I don’t like it.

  “Okay, fine,” I say. “I’m taking you up on that.”

  “Good call.” He puts a glass of wine down in front of me and busies himself turning on the oven and setting out the nuggets on a baking sheet.

  “Anything else happen tonight?” I ask him.

  He glances back at me. “Maybe. Why do you ask?”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I was just making conversation. What happened?”

  He sighs, putting the nuggets in the oven and comes over to sit down. “Don’t freak out.”

  “Tell me, Connor,” I say, staring at him.

  “Piero stopped by. I told him to fuck off.”

  I groan and lean back in my chair. “What did he want?”

  “Nothing important,” he says, staring at me. “What the fuck is wrong with those people?”

  “You tell me,” I say, shaking my head. “They’re my cousins, but aside from Harper, I barely know them.”

  “What’s the deal there?”

  I shrug. “My mom is Mario’s wife’s sister, but she wasn’t into the whole mafia thing, so she sort of splintered off from their family when she married my dad. We were raised away from the Gallos, although I was allowed to play with Harper. I can’t even remember how that happened, though.”

  “Your family’s completely separate from the Gallos?”

  “Pretty much. My mom and dad moved to Florida a couple years ago after my dad retired. He was a podiatrist for a long time.”

  “Huh,” he says, frowning. “Complicated.”

  “Family’s always complicated.”

  He just grunts in response, glancing back toward the hallway. I follow his gaze and think of Ryan sleeping back there, the poor little boy, caught in the middle of years and years of complicated family shit.

  “I didn’t really know anything about all this for a long time,” Connor says after a minute or two of contemplative silence. “I met Harper at a bar, and I thought she was just like every other girl at first.”

  “What changed?” I ask.

  “We started going out, and we just… fell into each other. I didn’t know she was an addict at first, that didn’t come out for a few months at least, but by then… I was invested.”

  “How’d you find out?”

  He turns back to look at me and sighs. “Came home one day to find her passed out in the bathroom, her gear set up around her. She was alive but fucking barely.”

  “Jesus,” I say softly.

  “That was the first time I got her into rehab. After that, it just got worse and worse and worse, until she got pregnant. By that time though, I was just around to keep her alive more than anything else.”

  “What happened when she got pregnant?” I ask, afraid of the answer.

  “She got clean, believe it or not,” he says. “I watched her like a hawk, but I think there was something about having a baby inside of her that kept her sane, at least for nine months.”

  “She went back as soon as she had the baby?” I ask.

  He nods. “That’s when she went on her bender and stole Ryan away. And you know the rest, clearly.”

  We lapse into silence again for a moment. “I wonder what she did with that boy,” I say softly.

  “I don’t,” he answers, and his voice is strained. “I never want to know what she put him through if I can help it. All I want now is to make sure he never goes through anything like it again, and if he needs help, we get him help.”

  I nod at that, completely agreeing. It’s just so impossible to imagine a junkie like Harper raising a boy for as long as she did, but it explains a lot about him. I can’t even begin to suspect and guess at all the little traumas and problems lurking inside of him, and frankly, I think I agree with Connor. I don’t really want to know if I can ever help it.

  Connor sighs and finishes his whiskey, making another face. “God, that’s so bad,” he says, and we both laugh, breaking the tension. “Ready for your nuggets?”

  “Absolutely,” I say. “I’m starving.”

  He gets up and asks me about work as he pours himself another drink. I give him the short version, which turns into the long version as he carefully asks questions. I’m surprised at how well he listens and seems to really care about what I was doing.

  My nuggets finish not long later and he pulls them out. They’re barely cooked, but he covers them in salt and pepper, and I’m honestly too hungry to care at this point. I eat them like I’ve never eaten anything before, and he grins at me when I’m done.

  “Best ever?” he asks.

  “Maybe, but only because I was starving.”

  “Please. You’re lucky to have me around.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I say, unable to stop myself from smiling.

  “Isn’t this what every girl wants? A big, handsome man waiting for her at home with chicken nuggets?”

  “It is very romantic,” I agree with him, grinning.

  “That’s me, very romantic.” He gets up and pours himself another drink.

  I feel like a zombie but being around him is so exciting. Just watching him move makes me feel something, and even when we’re having a normal conversation, it feels like he’s constantly flirting with me. I keep thinking about what it would feel like to kiss him, and I suddenly want it to
happen more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.

  I’m probably just exhausted and losing my mind, though. He comes back to the table and sits down, watching me for a second.

  “When’s the last time you did something for yourself?” he asks me suddenly.

  I raise an eyebrow. “What?”

  “You know, went to the mall or got your nails done or whatever you like to do.”

  I laugh a little. “I have a toddler, I don’t do anything for myself.”

  He nods. “Thought so. Listen, you should let me babysit more often.” He holds up his hands before I can object. “You know I’m the father, and clearly I can handle him just fine. I’m not saying you should let me watch him all the time, but I think you should give yourself a little break at some point.”

  I take a breath and let it out. My initial reaction was irrational anger, like he’s trying to steal Ryan way from me, but I know he isn’t. He’s been totally up front and clear about what he wants. We’re taking it slowly, and I really appreciate that. He could probably get custody if he really wanted to, with or without my permission, but he’s not. We’re working together.

  And he’s right. I’ve been dreaming about just getting an hour to myself, without Ryan in the other room sleeping or something like that. I used to be my own person, and then suddenly I wasn’t anymore, and the transition has been hard.

  It’s amazing that he can see that. I guess he understands better than I could have guessed, considering he went through this when Ryan was first born. And back then, I bet it was even harder, not to mention he wasn’t equipped with the correct biology to breastfeed the poor baby. I bet it was hard for him, making bottles and washing spit-up covered jeans all the time. Two months of being a single dad sounds really, really hard.

  It’s amazing he wants Ryan back at all, but he clearly does. That says a lot about the kind of man he is.

  “Maybe I’ll take you up on that,” I say finally. “The transition hasn’t been easy.”

  He nods. “I understand. Trust me.”

  I sigh a little. “I don’t get why you’re being nice to me.”

  “Don’t you?” He cocks his head, a little smile on his lips. “Or are you trying to pretend like you don’t?”

  I shudder a little bit and look away. He laughs, and his laughter drives me absolutely wild.

  “It’s getting late,” I say. “I should probably get some sleep before tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  I hesitate a second. He finishes his drink and stands up.

  I follow him back to the front door. “If you want to stop by for dinner tomorrow, that’d be nice,” I say to him.

  “Promise it won’t be chicken nuggets and broccoli?”

  I smile a little. “Can’t promise that.”

  We get to the door and he turns to me. We’re inches apart and his eyes are burning into mine.

  “I’m nice to you because you care about my son,” he says softly. “But also because I want you.”

  I blink, taken completely off guard. He steps closer, puts one arm behind my lower back, and presses his lips against mine.

  I kiss him, slow and passionately. I love his taste, love the feeling of his hands on my body, and all I want to do is to drag him back into my bedroom and let him have me however he wants. The kiss doesn’t last long, though, because I come back to my senses and end it, stepping away.

  The smirk on his face drives me wild again, but I just ignore it. “You should go,” I say.

  “See you tomorrow, Leah.”

  “Yeah,” I say, and watch as he disappears.

  I don’t know what to think about what just happened. It’s something I’ve been wanting, but it really complicated this already absurdly complicated situation. Maybe I should tell him not to come tomorrow… but the thought of that makes me angry at myself.

  Why can’t I have something that makes me happy? Maybe it’s a little difficult, or complicated, or whatever, but so what? I deserve a little happiness, and if I can find it with him, then I should embrace it.

  Or maybe it’s just that I’m standing in my living room, dripping wet and wishing he’d come back to finish what he started.

  Either way, I want to see where this goes. It’s crazy, but I want it. I don’t think I have long to wait.

  11

  Connor

  Just one taste. I promised myself that I wouldn’t take it any further than that. Just one taste to prove to myself that I don’t really want her as badly as I think I do.

  Except that one taste just set me completely on fire.

  I’m trying to respect her boundaries, but fucking hell, fuck her boundaries. I want to tear her to pieces, feel her smooth skin against me, taste her dripping cunt. I want to see my cock buried in her throat and groan as I come inside her pretty little pussy. I want to see how her hips work, how she moans when I slap her ass.

  Except it’s complicated as fuck, and I think she hates me, at least a little bit.

  Sure, she wants me too. She wants me to fuck her, there’s no doubt in my mind. I can see it in her eyes. She stares at me like a piece of meat she’s starving for, and I absolutely love it. But she’s also afraid I’m going to steal Ryan away from her, right when she’s just starting to feel like a mother for real. I’m complicating an already hard situation, and I’m not sure she can handle it all.

  I’m trying to be good. It’s fucked, but I’m trying.

  I don’t stop thinking about that kiss, but I’m on my best behavior the next night. I don’t push it, don’t press her. I have dinner with them, put Ryan to bed, and I leave. I think she’s a little disappointed that I don’t finish what I started, but there’s time for that. I’m in no hurry, not yet at least.

  Plus, I want her quivering with anticipation, barely able to control herself when I finally do take what I fucking want.

  That feeling only builds over the days that follow. We fall into a simple routine, and it actually feels good. I come over for dinner, I help her put Ryan down, and then I head back to my place. Sometimes I linger and we have a drink, and I listen to her talk about her day, and I tell her about mine if she asks. Mostly I sit there thinking about how badly I want to fuck her, and I’m pretty sure she’s thinking the same thing.

  She has that Saturday morning off, so she invites me over for breakfast. I make pancakes, which Ryan seems to love, and Leah has a smile on her face the whole time.

  “We should try something different,” I say to her.

  “Oh yeah?” she asks. “Like what?”

  “Well, there’s a park near here.” I look at Ryan. “What do you think? Want to go down the slide?”

  He nods, his mouth full of pancakes, although I don’t think he would have answered anyway.

  “What do you think?” I ask Leah.

  She smiles at me. “If he wants to go, we’ll go.”

  “Great.” I beam at her and she can’t help but smile back. We finish our breakfast and Leah gets Ryan dressed while I make some to-go coffees for the two of us. A few minutes later, we’re walking down the street like a normal family, and it actually seems… normal.

  Which isn’t a word I would have thought to use to describe this situation, of course. Normally, the mafia doesn’t offer to buy your fucking kid from you. But that doesn’t matter to me. The sun’s out, Leah’s smiling, Ryan seems happy, and this is what I’ve always wanted. Some semblance of normal, even if that normal’s just a façade over the all kinds of fucked up lurking underneath.

  The park is a couple of blocks away. It’s actually fairly nice, and not too crowded. It’s around nine in the morning, which is probably why. There are a few other kids running around, and instantly Ryan wants to teeter off to join them.

  “Take a break,” I say to Leah, following him. “I got this.”

  She looks like she wants to argue, but I don’t listen. I just follow Ryan over to the swings and help him into the kiddie swing, pushing him softly until he looks back at me,
making a face. I grin and push him higher until he can’t stop laughing.

  Leah sits off to the side, watching. I try not to think about her in this moment, and try to just enjoy time with my son. It’s hard not to imagine what she’s thinking, though, since her opinion of me matters so much. I have to keep reminding myself that the only things that matter are Ryan and his happiness.

  I play with him like that for nearly an hour. Leah sits on a bench near some other moms, sipping her coffee. Eventually, a little girl around Ryan’s age offers to share her blocks and shovels, and so the two of them end up sitting in the wood chips a few feet away while I finally get to take a little break.

  “You’re good to him,” Leah says after a few minutes of silence.

  “I’m just making up for lost time.”

  “Really, though. I don’t know how you have the stamina to run around like that.”

  I laugh softly. “How old do you think I am?”

  She grins and shrugs. “Fifty. Maybe sixty.”

  I pretend to be hurt. “You wound me.”

  “Too bad, old man.”

  I laugh and lean against her. She doesn’t move away. I take the coffee mug from her hand and take a sip. It’s still lukewarm, which surprises me, but I guess these insulated things have gotten better over the years.

  Ryan and the little girl look so at peace. They’re not exactly playing together, more like playing side by side. The girl’s mom is a few benches over, thin and pale, staring at her phone. I have an eye on the two of them and they’re only ten feet away, but I can’t believe she’s not watching like a hawk. I guess I haven’t been around Ryan enough yet to really trust him not to hurt himself, even by accident.

  “What are you thinking?” Leah asks me.

  “Not much,” I say. “Just that this all feels weird.”

  She shrugs me off. “What do you mean?”

  “It feels normal. You know?”

  I watch her as she sighs. “Yeah, I know. But none of this is normal, is it?”