The kids took off running toward her on the couch. “Mommy, Mommy!”
All of her friends looked as if their hearts were melting at the picturesque maternal image.
“All I know is that I’ll be thrilled as long as the baby has ten fingers and ten toes,” her mother bragged. “And then they can get right back to work on the next one.”
Jeremy’s face lit up as his gaze shifted back to Leigh. “I think I can handle that.”
Leigh’s eyes popped open. She was back in her bedroom with Ariel, who was lightly snoring beside her. When she glanced at the clock, she guesstimated that she had only been asleep for about twenty minutes. Yet when she tried to recall the dream, it was like trying to capture a puff of smoke. Whatever she’d been dreaming, it certainly made her feel good.
Pregnant.
Stunned, Jeremy stared at Roy. It was the only thing he could do, especially since the room was spinning and the blood rushing to his head sounded like a freight train. After a moment, he managed to open his mouth, and in the next, he closed it. Open. Close. Surely if he kept it up, words would eventually start flowing—but he wouldn’t bet his house on it.
Pregnant.
Q was the first to get over the shock. “Now, when you say ‘pregnant’ do you mean with a child?” Okay, maybe he wasn’t over the shock.
“Crazy, huh?” Roy said, shaking his head. “But an hour ago, I was bouncing off the walls, thinking that I was about to be a father.” He resumed his pacing. “You should’ve seen me. There I was blabbing on like an idiot about how I was going to be a better man and predicting that we were going to have a boy. He stopped and a wave of sadness washed over his face.
“You know what, man, I got to get out of here. I need to go for a drive or something.” He glanced up.
Jeremy struggled to pull his thoughts together. “Roy, we need to talk.” He turned toward Quentin. “Cuz, can you give us a moment?”
“Some other time,” Roy interrupted. “I need to try and get my head right or at least get it wrapped around this whole situation.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Look. I really appreciate you letting me come over here and blow off some steam. I know that when the chips are down, that I can really count on you to come through for me.” He locked gazes with Jeremy. “In fact, I love you for that.”
More rocks piled onto his windpipe. “And I love you, man—which is why I have to tell you that—”
“Tomorrow,” Roy said, turning toward the door. “I promise tomorrow we’ll hook up and finish this convo, a’ight? Right now I can’t really handle anything else. I got to do some serious thinking and make a couple of moves. Cool?”
Jeremy hesitated, but then after a moment of reading his friend’s expression, he nodded. “Cool. Tomorrow, then. I’ll call you on your cell.”
“Bet. I’ll catch you later.” Roy jerked the door open and a loud burst of music flooded the office again. “Yo, Q. Thanks for the drink.”
“Anytime.” Quentin gave him a two-finger salute.
“A’ight. Later.” Roy winked at Jeremy and then jetted out.
Jeremy stared at the door halfway expecting his boy to return and yell “April Fool’s.” But once one, then two, then three minutes passed, reality started settling in. He turned and Q stood next to him.
“Congratulations?”
“She’s pregnant,” Jeremy said, still stunned.
“I heard. Maybe next time you’ll start buying condoms that fit. Here you go.” Q handed him a drink. “You look like you could use this.”
Jeremy took the glass and, just like Roy, tossed it back like it was water. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Don’t mention it.” Quentin folded his arms. “Look. I know that this may not be the best time to bring this up, but in the most-screwed-up-life category, you just pulled ahead by a hair.”
“Noticed that, did you?” Jeremy said, as he rolled his eyes and went back to the couch. On his back, he stared up at the ceiling. “You know, this means she knew when I hauled her into the freezer and practically showed my ass.”
“Guess that means that your daddy weekend visitations will have court-appointed supervision.”
Jeremy groaned. “Why didn’t she say something?”
“Would that conversation have happened between your being pelted with the chicken or the fish?”
Jeremy fell silent while the words pregnant and father tumbled around in his head. “Can I tell you something on the serious tip?”
“Sure.”
“I think I’m scared.”
Quentin’s brows knitted together, but then he thought about what he’d do if he was in Jeremy’s situation. “I feel you.”
Jeremy sat up, but still squirmed around in his seat. “I mean…I’ve never really thought about being a father. I guess I knew one day that it would happen. But I never thought about what kind of father I would be, you know?”
Q nodded. “I don’t think that I’ve given much thought to it, either. Heck. I’m having a difficult time just navigating being a son…and a brother.”
Jeremy braided his fingers together and said, “I hope I’m as good a father as my dad.”
Quentin glanced up. “Yeah. Jorell is cool. I remember a few summers when you guys would come up to the estate, and he would go out and play ball, wrestle or whatever you guys felt like doing. He was really hands-on,” Q said. His gaze floated back down. “I don’t have a single childhood memory of when my father wasn’t wearing a suit.” He shrugged. “But there was always Alfred, James and Antonio. There were plenty of times when they would feel sorry for the poor little rich kids and sneak in time to play with us. My playmates—the cook, the gardener and butler. What else could a child want?”
Jeremy’s heart squeezed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be. It was a veeeery long time ago.”
“Still…”
“Well, instead of feeling sorry for me, do me a favor and make sure that you pay a little more attention to your kid than my old man. Maybe they won’t turn out to be so screwed up.”
“Deal.” Jeremy sucked in a deep breath. “All I have to do now is break my best friend’s heart and then hope that I haven’t completely ruined my chances to not only be in my child’s life, but in Leigh’s, as well.”
Quentin shook his head. “Maybe you should think about joining somebody’s church because that’s going to require a whole lot of praying.”
Chapter 22
“Leigh, honey. Wake up.”
Leigh woke to the gentle rocking of her shoulders and groaned. Unfortunately, her stomach joined the motion of her shoulders, and she immediately bolted out of bed and sprinted to the bathroom. All the contents of her late-night refrigerator raid came out.
“I knew it,” her mother said excitedly from the bathroom doorway. “You’re pregnant!” Sheree clapped her hands and started bouncing. “Wait until your father hears. He’ll owe me a month’s worth of breakfasts in bed. I told him last night that you were knocked up.” She gasped. “You know this means we’ll have to move up the wedding date.” She started making new plans while she waltzed over to the linen closet and pulled out a small face towel. “I know it’s a bit old-fashioned, dear, but having a noticeable baby bump on your big day is still considered bad form.”
Her mother moved over to the sink, turned on the water and made a cool compress. “I know getting the caterer, baker and florist to commit to an earlier date shouldn’t be a problem, but the venue may be a grand mal–inducing migraine.” She shook her head. “But don’t you worry about it. I’m all over it. Now, as for an obstetrician, I know this fabulous—”
“Mom,” Leigh moaned.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“There’s not going to be a wedding.” She reached up and took the cold towel from her mother’s hands and pressed it to her forehead. “Thanks for the compress.”
Sheree shook her head and tried to clear it. “Say that again, because it almost sounded like—”
“DeShawn and I are not getting married.” Leigh struggled to her feet. “We broke up last night.” She shuffled out of the bathroom, certain that she looked like the walking dead. In the bedroom Ariel peeled herself out of bed. “Morning. How do you feel?”
“Probably about as good as I look.”
Ariel winced. “Damn.”
“Wait a minute,” Leigh’s mother said, coming out of her shock and strolling out of the bathroom behind her daughter. “How could you two be broken up? Does DeShawn know about the baby?”
“Oh, he knows, all right,” Leigh said, making it all the way to the kitchen and then stopping briefly to wonder whether she could stomach the strong smell of coffee this early in the morning.
“If you want,” Ariel said, joining her, “I can make the coffee.”
Leigh looked at her and then shook her head.
“Tea?”
Another head shake.
“Then how about orange juice?”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Good. You can have the orange juice and I’ll have a screwdriver.”
“Hello?” her mother said, irritably. “Baby? Wedding? Somebody say something. I think I’m one minute from having a nervous breakdown.”
Leigh turned toward her mother’s wide and expectant eyes and felt a wave of embarrassment for having to make this confession. But putting it off really wasn’t an option. “The wedding is off for a host of reasons. One, because I’m no longer in love with DeShawn. And to be honest with you I haven’t been in a long while. Two, I told DeShawn last night that I had been with another man during the last time we broke up. And three…” She drew in a deep breath.
“And three?” Sheree pressed as she held her breath.
“And—and I’m having the other man’s baby.”
Her mother gasped, but then clearly realized that having a fit of apoplexy was not the way to go. “Okay, okay. Well…I am… Well—” She glanced over at Ariel who was pouring vodka into her orange juice.
“Ariel, honey. I think I’m going to need one of those.”
“Coming right up.”
“Well, okay, then.” Her mother slumped into one of the stools at the breakfast counter. She waited until Ariel handed her the screwdriver before she attempted to speak again, and only then after she had taken a healthy gulp. “So…okay. DeShawn is out and this new young man—does he have a name?”
“Jeremy,” Leigh said. “Jeremy King.” She tried to ignore the delicious quiver that raced through her at the mere mention of his name.
Her mother nodded and then stopped. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
DeShawn had talked about his best friend to her parents countless times. They, like her, just had never had the opportunity to put a face to a name—until last night.
“Didn’t DeShawn have a friend named…?” Her mother’s eyes grew even wider as she shook her head. “No! It can’t be the same guy, is it?”
Leigh’s good-girl image had officially crashed and burned.
“By some weird ironic joke…I’m afraid it is. I simply didn’t know at the time.”
“I guess it’s a good thing that I’m sitting down.” She looked at her drink. “And it’s too early in the morning to have more than one of these…isn’t it?”
“Mom, I know this is a lot to take in. And I understand if you’re disappointed…”
“Now, Leigh, let’s not confuse shock with disappointment. I’m your mother. I’m going to love you no matter what. And I refuse to believe that this child you’re carrying is a mistake or an accident. He or she was meant to be and that’s good enough for me.”
Leigh smiled and then walked over to her mother’s outstretched arms for a much-needed embrace.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
“Ugh. Who could that be calling so early?” Leigh asked, pulling out of her mother’s arms and heading over to the phone. Once she read the name on the caller ID, she froze.
“Who is it?” her mother and Ariel asked in unison.
Beep!
“Hello?” Jeremy’s deep baritone filtered through the speakers. “Yes, this is Jeremy King. (pause) I’m looking for a Leigh Matthews. I’m hoping that this is the right number. If so, I’d really appreciate it if you would give me a call back. I…know that there’s a chance that you might not want to do that, especially after my appalling behavior last night.”
Pause.
“There really isn’t a good excuse for that…and I wish… I hope that you will give me the opportunity to apologize to you in person. So please, give me a call. My cell phone is—”
“Aren’t you going to write the number down, sweetie?” her mother asked.
Leigh stared at her machine like it had just fallen from outer space. “How did he get my number?”
Ariel shrugged her shoulders. “I doubt that it’s all that hard, especially now that he knows your name.”
“Why wouldn’t he have known your name?” her mother asked, trying to keep up with the conversation.
Leigh ignored the question while another horrifying thought assailed her. “You don’t think—” she glanced over at Ariel “—that he knows?”
“About the baby?” Ariel said, and then gave her another shrug. “Anything is possible. You know men gossip worse than women.”
“DeShawn could’ve left here and gone straight over there,” she reasoned. “He could’ve told him about the breakup and about…”
“So I take it that the young man didn’t know?” her mother asked.
“Heck, I didn’t know until yesterday, Momma.” Leigh plopped down on the stool next to her and tried to process all of this. “Everything is moving so fast.”
“Humph. You better get used to the pace, sweetheart. Once you become a mother, time starts ticking at warp speed.”
A mother.
Ariel finally asked the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. “Are you going to call him back?”
“And say what?”
Sheree cut in. “Well, you can tell him whether or not you accept his apology. I don’t know about you, but he sounded pretty sincere to me.”
Leigh thrust her hip out to the side and folded her arms.
“Or not,” her mother amended. “I thought it would at least be a nice conversation starter. Can I risk asking what it is that he did that got you so upset?”
Leigh remembered Jeremy’s rant vividly. And the last thing she wanted to do was to recite the entire ugly episode to her mother. Especially the “crazy gold-digging ho” part.
“You know what?” Leigh said, shaking her head. “I can’t deal with him right now.”
“You’re going to have to deal with him sooner or later.”
“Yeah. Well…I choose later—much, much later.”
Jeremy couldn’t shake the feeling when he hung up the phone that Leigh had just heard every word he’d said but had refused to pick up the phone. Not that he could really blame her. His behavior last night looked even worse when viewed in the light of day.
But somehow he had to figure out a way to fix all of this—with Roy and Leigh—especially with Leigh.
He’d slept in his office, his home away from home. He slept there not because he’d pulled an all-nighter at work, but because he was too shocked by everything that had happened to drive. All in all, he might have gotten about two hours of sleep. And then suddenly, his dreams were filled with babies and baby showers? Weird.
Yet somehow, the dream made him feel good. Now that the idea of becoming a father had had a chance to marinate, he discovered that he really wasn’t all that scared. If anything, he was excited.
A father. The list of things that he wanted and could do with his child was endless. He was so excited that he popped up that morning, brewed some coffee and went online. After just a few clicks, he was able to find the Leigh Matthews that he was looking for.
But now what?
What if she didn’t return his call?
What if she had alrea
dy decided that she didn’t want to have anything to do with him?
What then?
She’ll call, he thought, trying to reassure himself.
The usually confident voice inside his head didn’t sound so confident. If anything it sounded like an all-in poker bet at the blackjack table.
I hope she calls.
Hope. That tiny pinprick was still hanging in there.
After a quick shower and a fresh change of clothes, Jeremy made his next big phone call. Roy. Even before all the speed-dial numbers appeared on the cell-phone screen, Jeremy’s heart rate had accelerated a good twenty percent. It was crazy, since it wasn’t like he was about to drop his bombshell over the phone. He just wanted to nail down a time and a place where they could hook up and talk—preferably, somewhere public, where the chance of Roy committing homicide was less likely.
When the call went to voice mail, Jeremy was both relieved and disappointed. He left a quick message asking Roy to call back. He waited for a few minutes, hoping that Roy would call back quickly. When that didn’t happen, he elected to go grab some breakfast from the café a few blocks down the street. As he walked through the club, the day crew was already cleaning and stocking up.
“Jeremy,” Delilah called out. “You have a moment?”
“Sure.” He glanced at his watch as he strolled back to work. The hostess’s daytime look was a makeup-free face and a Nike running suit. “What’s up?”
Her face pinched. “Well, actually… I don’t really know how to bring this up.”
He chuckled. “You?” He blinked in surprise. His opinionated hostess had never been tongue-tied before. “Well, it must be awfully serious.”
“I think it is.”
At hearing that, he sobered. “Okay. I’m listening.”
“It’s about Quentin.”
The words hit him like a sucker punch. “All right. What about him?”
“Well—a few of us are a little concerned.”
“How do you mean? Has he done something?”
She hesitated again. “Look. It’s not like we don’t all talk to ourselves now and then. But a couple of us—myself included—have seen Quentin sort of talking or arguing with himself. You don’t think he’s cracking up, do you?”
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