Vanilla Twist: A Walk on the Wild Side Novel (Heather and Tony, Book 2)

by C. J. Ellisson

  Pressure eases in my chest. At least she wants to see me. That’s got to be a good sign. But if I’m honest, I don’t want to wait ’til then to talk to her. I debate what to write for a minute and then go with my gut.

  Sounds good. Call me when you get into Philly.

  Okay. Will do. :-)

  “Was that Heather?” my brother Vinnie asks. He stopped by on his way home from the restaurant to pick up the coat he left on Sunday night.

  “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “You’ve got a goofy smile on your face. Wuss.”

  I slap him on the shoulder in passing. “You could be a detective. You’re so smart.” Opening the fridge, I ask, “Want a beer?”

  “Sure, why not. I’m off tonight. Want to grab some dinner?”

  I hand him a beer and then gesture at my full fridge. “I’ve got plenty here. How about we eat in?” I don’t add that I shopped with Heather and over-bought in the hopes she’d be spending more time here.

  “You just want me to cook for you, don’t you?” Vinnie smiles, not focusing on me or the beer, but staring into the fridge, looking as if he’s mentally cataloging what I’ve got.

  “Only if you want. Believe it or not, I am self-sufficient. I do remember the tips you taught me after you graduated from the Culinary Institute—and all the recipes Mom drilled into us growing up.”

  “Fine. It’d be nice to have someone cook for me for a change.”

  He settles at the island as I select steaks, mushrooms, and broccoli from the fridge. “I’m going for simple. No comments from you, all right?”

  “Whatever, man. It’ll give me a chance to grill you over the girl.” He smiles and takes a long swig of his beer. “How are things going with her? Do we get to meet her soon?”

  A cold lump of dread settles in my middle. Just the thought of introducing Heather to my family while we’re in the middle of this whole baby thing leaves me ready to puke. “Things are complicated.”

  “Meaning?”

  I prep the veggies first, adding an onion from the cabinet to my tasks. “You remember Sunday when Marcus mentioned a woman named Portia?” At his nod, I continue. “Well… she’s adding a level of complication to my life that might mess up my relationship with Heather. Turns out she might be pregnant with my kid.”

  Vinnie sputters and chokes on his beer, coughing to clear his airway. After a minute he’s able to speak, red-faced and looking shocked. “Holy shit, Tony. How could you be so fucking stupid?”

  I shake my head, while cutting the onions into slices. “Don’t assume, man. I used protection. She’s still claiming the child is mine.”

  “What are you going to do? Did you tell Heather?”

  “I called a lawyer and a private detective. So far there’s nothing the detective has found that I can use on her and the lawyer said we need to wait for a DNA test to do anything.” I start the onions in a skillet and turn to wash the mushrooms.

  “Hell. That’s what you’re in—pure Hell. Think it’s payback for all those years flying to Vegas and banging any woman you wanted?”

  I frown. “I wasn’t like that. I worked hard and partied hard.” I shrug. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Why do you think I implemented the rule you couldn’t date anyone from my restaurant? The first six months we were open I had more crying waitresses and under-chefs than any new business owner should ever have to deal with— and all thanks to you, you bastard. You left a string of broken hearts in your wake. ”

  “Did I? I never noticed.”

  He shakes his head and helps himself to another beer. “You’ve always been oblivious to the women around you—especially after you bag them. Wining and dining them, buying expensive trinkets, lavish trips—”

  “Come on… since when is Vegas ‘lavish’?”

  “When you fly them out in a jet, asshole. How do you think these women survive after you lose interest? Serves you right you fall for one and your past comes back to bite you in the ass.”

  “I dump money-grubbing women and I’m the ass?” I ask while setting the steak in a hot pan to sear one side. I toss the mushrooms in with the sautéing onions.

  “What? You make them fall for you with the special treatment, and then you wonder why they expect it from you later? You already got this new one a car—don’t you think you’re doing the same thing again, only on a grander scale? You should be thinking about your future responsibilities.” He sits back down at the counter, a sour look on his face. “Jesus, what will Mom say when she hears you knocked up some woman and aren’t going to marry her?”

  I slam the saucepan full of broccoli on a burner and turn it on to boil. “What the hell? Marry her? Are you crazy? It might not even be mine.”

  “Oh, and I can guess what that means — you’re probably freezing the poor girl out. Treating her like a gold digger. Not even thinking about the fact you might become a father.” He watches me while I cook, anger fairly radiating off him. “Just like in high school. I picked up the pieces of the hearts you crushed back then, too.”

  A corner of my mouth lifts up at the memories he’s slanting in his favor. “Yeah, and you never let them cry on your shoulder until their pants magically slipped off.”

  Vinnie begrudgingly agrees. “Maybe one or two times. But overall you broke more hearts than I took advantage of.”

  “I’m just making sure we’re both recalling right and you aren’t forgetting that you’re no saint either.”

  He shrugs, taking particular interest in the meat. Staring at it in the pan. Probably worried I’m going to burn it. Nosy know-it-all chef. “Whatever. The past doesn’t change the fact that I may be looking at a paternity suit to end all suits.”

  “Seriously? If it’s your kid, you better grow up and stop acting like an asshole. I’m not saying you’ve got to marry someone you don’t love, but you damned well better take your responsibility and man up. A child isn’t something you casually take an interest in and toss aside when you’re bored, like you did all those women. A child deserves more.”

  I don’t answer and flip the steaks. Where is this anger from him coming from? I know I’ve treated women poorly in the past, but things aren’t like that between Heather and me. How do I get him to understand I’m not the same guy and this isn’t a casual relationship like the others?

  Vinnie sighs and puts his beer down. “I’ve been meaning to say something for a while. But you and I… we don’t have these types of talks much.”

  “I know—I was wondering where all this shit was coming from. Last time we talked seriously about women I think you were a senior in high school.”

  “Yeah, well… it needed to be said. You’ve been self-centered when it comes to women for years. The whole family caters to you: Mom, Gino, me… And I get it. You’ve worked your ass off to support us the moment you were old enough to get a job.”

  “Gee,” I say while turning off the stove and dishing up our plates. “And you sound so grateful.”

  Vinnie takes the offered plate. “I voiced my gratitude then. I voiced it when you lent me money for my restaurant. But I will not stand by and listen to you babble some shit about what this baby may or may not do to you and your latest conquest.”

  I sit next to him at the counter, trying my best to rein in my desire to punch him, and listen to what he has to say. “Heather is not a conquest.”

  “Oh yeah, really? And what makes this one different?”

  I take a long drink of my beer, chugging the rest before setting it on the counter. “Because I love her.”

  Vinnie is quiet for a few minutes, eating his meal in silence. When he finally speaks some of the anger I heard earlier is gone, replaced with empathy. “Well then, do you want her to see you handling this situation like a self-centered playboy used to slinging his dick around, or do you want to show her how a man owns up to his responsibilities with class and decorum?”

  When Vinnie leaves I feel emotionally spent. Not a sensation I normally e
xperience without a naked, sweaty Heather in the room with me. He’s right. Which is humbling, to say the least. I knew I discarded women on a regular basis, but never before did I suffer consequences for it. They usually left me alone after the obligatory, brush-off diamond bauble.

  Or maybe you just thought that tactic worked. Sounds like Vinnie knows firsthand it didn’t.

  Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have dated his sous chef those two weeks after the restaurant opened. She was a really nice girl… just didn’t hold my interest. No one’s been able to do that, ever. And then along came Heather.

  Sweet, spirited Heather. Who captured my heart one night on a wine bistro patio when she ordered me to get on my knees…

  A shiver runs over my skin, tightening it, making me remember the spring night and her bold behavior. But if I’m honest, her actions weren’t what won me. Her shy, and then tempting, dichotomies intrigued me. Made me look below the surface to see she had depth, fear, passion, and strength all the way to her toes.

  She challenged my way of thinking and feeling those first few days—and everything about her from her shyly sexy smile to her enticingly decadent scent has stayed with me. Heather wormed her way under my skin without my ever being aware, and now… and now I could lose her based on how I’ve handled everything with Portia.

  Damn if my brother wasn’t right. A real man doesn’t dodge something like this and act like he’s the victim. Only a coward hides behind layers of people—lawyers, detectives, secretaries, receptionists—whatever, instead of facing the issue head-on.

  What will I do if Portia is pregnant with my child? I’ve been so concerned with proving it’s not mine and worried the news will affect my growing relationship with Heather, that I haven’t looked inside and faced how I feel about the possibility of becoming a father.

  Scared is the first thought that comes to mind. Am I ready to be a father? Well really, when the hell is anyone?

  Usually most men are married first, or in a serious relationship, so it’s not a complete surprise when they hear they are going to become a father.

  But hey, no matter what I might prefer, the scenario is here. And like it or not, I need to figure this shit out.

  Can I be a good father? My own dad was a bastard. I’ve got a good road map on what not to do based on what he was like.

  Vinnie surprised me when he left. After the smack down he gave about being self-centered in most of my relationships, he reassured me that he and Gino would be here, as brothers and uncles, to help me with the baby. His generosity and support triggered my current ruminations.

  Would I have offered the same? I shake my head, still unhappy when I recall my immediate answer—it was one that left me ashamed. Perhaps a part of me has some hidden resentment at helping to support them and our mom in the early years. The mere idea of one of them having a child now—one I would be expected to help out with—had anger boiling under my skin. It felt awful. It feels crappy to admit it now, even if only to myself.

  I can’t control Portia’s actions, or even her motivations for that matter. But I can control how I react to them. I need to hold my head up high, like Heather does so often when she’s afraid, and handle the possibility of a baby with the way I handle business—with professionalism, respect, and an eye on the big picture. In this case, it’s not a high revenue merger, but the chance to share my life with someone, in this case a child, and help them grow into a better person than I am.

  When you put it all into perspective, I really have been an ass.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Heather

  The train ride to Philly was kind of relaxing. No one sat near me in the business car, a miracle on its own, and then no one bothered me to plug in their laptop or phone while I worked at a table in the dining car. It was exactly what I needed—peace and quiet. Especially after over-imbibing last night with Carla.

  The longer I think about Tony’s reaction to Portia being pregnant, the more disturbed I become. I keep replaying his words over and over in my mind. At the end, after he revealed his staggering net worth, he almost seemed close to pulling his head out of his ass. But not quite.

  Is it my role in our relationship to help him not be such a jerk regarding the possible pregnancy? Or is it an indicator that no matter how drawn I am to him sexually that maybe he’s not ready for a real relationship, one that requires responsibility and commitment?

  Can I be content with staying with him even while I’m worried I may be another fling he eventually tires of? Then again, is there any genuine guarantee in any relationship? My folks were happy together for over twenty years. If they hadn’t died in the car crash, I’d assume they would have been one of the couples who truly made it for the long haul—the one all the way to the golden years. They weren’t like other empty-nesters I’d seen—like my college friends’ parents—where the marriage falls apart when the kids left home.

  Their lives didn’t revolve around me, an accomplishment in itself considering I was an only child. Watching them relate to one another and thrive over the years made me yearn to find such happiness for myself. Maybe that’s why I’ve had a tendency to jump feet first into a relationship without looking. Always hoping the next guy, the next relationship, would be my very own happily ever after.

  And yet, here I stand now… dating a guy who might very well be a “baby daddy,” a term which makes me shudder, for another woman. Albeit, a very rich and successful baby daddy, but an unmarried father just the same. How do we as a society look at such men? Do we revile them as irresponsible, commitment-phobes who knock up any woman dumb enough to fall for their promises of undying love… or could some of the men be victims of circumstance too? I’ll admit, I never really wasted too many brain cells on thinking about the guy; my outrage has always been for the perceived jilted woman left to raise a child on her own.

  While I’m not as ready as Tony to paint a woman, one who I’ve never met, as manipulative and a gold digger, I’m not so naive to think women like that don’t exist. We can be predators just as easily as any guy.

  All I know is, no matter how drawn I am to Tony, we can’t let things lie as they are. I don’t think I could spend my life with someone who reviled their child’s mother simply because of an accidental conception. Assuming, of course, Tony and I were even cut out for a long term relationship.

  A sigh escapes me as I gather my things and prepare to disembark. I really want to drown my sorrows and confusion in a bottle of wine, but judging by the success of last night, it obviously won’t help.

  I take a cab to my hotel and check in. In a few minutes, I’m settled in my room with the whole night ahead of me. I run a hot bath and pour shampoo from the tiny bottles on the vanity under the running water. Bubbles foam and a light citrusy scent fills the air. I strip, then grab my cell and eReader and climb into the half-full tub.

  The heat sinks into my muscles, bringing a soothing relaxed feel to wash away the day. I debate on calling Tony now or after I get out of the tub. I know I’m procrastinating, but damn, this stuff isn’t easy. Deep in my heart, I know I’m not going to end things with him over his behavior with Portia. It would be too premature of me, especially when we may find out the baby isn’t his. I still have faith in him and us. We could work out to be long term if we can work through this—and I know we can. It’s coming to terms with all the changes so quickly that has set me off my game.

  My phone bings softly on the side of the tub, indicating a text has come in. It’s Tony.

  Hey— did you get in okay? Haven’t heard from you.

  A long sigh eases out of me as I realize I’ve got to face him, even if it’s only figuratively as we’re not in person.

  I dry off my hand before picking up the phone, and decide to call him back rather than text. He picks up on the first ring.

  “Hi,” he says. “I take it you’re at the hotel?”

  “Yes. Soaking in the tub. I was planning on calling when I was done.”

  “Uh-huh, s
ure. You couldn’t possibly be avoiding me after I dropped two major bombs on you yesterday?”

  He’s more observant than I give him credit for. “Maybe.” I smile. “Maybe not. It was really the one thing—the possibility of you becoming a father—that’s stayed with me. Your money never mattered to me.”

  “Hmmm…”

  We’re both quiet for a couple of breaths. I’d almost call it a pregnant silence, but if I did that I’d probably crack up laughing. A little snort of awkwardness escapes me.

  “What’s that?” Tony asks. “Did you say something?”

  “No. I was kind of hoping you would.”

  “I… I don’t know what to say. It seems like too much to cover on the phone.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” I close my eyes and push out what I’m feeling, ignoring the icy pit in my stomach. “You kind of came across as an insensitive jerk yesterday.”

  Tony lets out a long sigh on the other end of the line. “You’re being kind. I was a bit of a dick. With my head up my ass.”

  An inappropriate chuckle bubbles out. “That’s an interesting picture you’re painting with your words. Kind of uncomfortable sounding, too.”

  Tony returns my humor, cutting short his own awkward laugh. “I never said I was great with words. Sorry.”

  “You seem to do all right for yourself when it really matters.”

  “I’m not so sure I agree. You really matter to me and I seem to be sticking my foot in my mouth lately—and right when it counts.”

  My heart lurches in my chest. Do I respond to his declaration or let it lie? I go for it. Yay me. “So… I really matter to you, huh?”

  “Yes. You do.” He sighs again and I picture him snuggling into one of the big comfy couches in his living room. “Have I not been clear on how I feel?”

  “Have either of us, Tony?” I smile. This call must be just as hard for him as it is for me. “I mean, sometimes we talk, sometimes we’re too busy to talk, you know?”

  A satisfied sound of humor reaches me. “Yeah, you’re right.” Then more silence. “Okay, I’m just going to say it. I’m falling for you, Heather. Despite only knowing you for a month. And… I’m…”