The Lucky One (Carolina Connections Book 3)

by Sylvie Stewart

  Something definitely wasn’t right here.

  Twenty minutes later, my mom emerged from her room, dressed for her evening shift at her waitressing job. I was given both a kiss on the cheek and a pointed reminder to let Sleeping Beauty rest before my mother exited the house and I heard her car pull out of the driveway.

  The woman I was crazy about was lying in my bed, having completely shut me out for the last three days. There was no way I was going to stay here on the couch like a sucker. I moved directly to the bathroom where I quickly showered. I dried myself off and wrapped a towel around my waist before walking quietly to my bedroom door and slowly turning the knob.

  In my bed lay my blond goddess, her cheeks pink and a blanket pulled up to her chin. She slept with a small frown marring her face and I wanted to wipe it away with a kiss. I moved to stand at the side of the bed and looked down at her for a few moments. She didn’t move a muscle. My mother had been right. Bailey was completely and utterly exhausted.

  As quietly as I could, I exchanged the towel for a pair of boxer briefs and then carefully climbed into the small bed next to her. Moving with painstaking care so as not to wake her, I arranged us so her head rested on my shoulder, and my arms wound around her. I closed my eyes, feeling the exhaustion from my own day hitting me. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep as well.

  I was awakened by a mumbled voice and a hard chin digging into my shoulder. My eyes snapped open and I looked down to see Bailey slowly emerging from her marathon nap. The room was lit only by the waning light of dusk coming through my window, which told me I’d been out for over an hour. Bailey’s cheek rubbed across my chest and she lifted her head as her eyes blinked repeatedly. The frown from earlier deepened until her eyes found my face and a beautiful smile formed on her perfect mouth.

  “Jake,” she said sleepily.

  “Hey, Irish,” I responded quietly, returning her smile. I’m sure we looked like a couple of idiots but I didn’t care.

  We looked at each other for one perfect moment and her expression told me everything I needed to know. She wanted to be with me. So, it was settled. I’d make it happen.

  I brought my hand up to brush her hair out of her face and the movement acted as some sort of catalyst. Her smile froze and she shot to her knees on the bed. She whipped her head around, as if not recognizing her surroundings, and the motion seemed to cause her pain because she moaned and covered her head with her hands.

  I sat up and pulled her to me. “Hey, easy there. You’re really feeling sick, aren’t you?” I stroked her back, but she was stiff in my arms.

  “Oh my God,” she mumbled.

  “Come on, lay back down. Don’t make it worse,” I coaxed, but she was unmovable.

  “Jake,” she said into my chest, “please.”

  “Please what? Do you need me to get you some ibuprofen? How about some water?” I released my hold so I could pull back and look at her again.

  She was looking up at me with an expression I didn’t understand. It was almost a look of fear. What the hell?

  “No,” she replied. “I just…I just need a minute.”

  “Um, okay.” I tilted my head because I didn’t grasp what she was asking for at all.

  “Can you maybe go stand over there?” She pointed vaguely to a corner of the room. “No, wait, I’ll stand. Then I can think better.”

  “Bailey, what the hell is going on?” I seemed to be asking that question a lot lately. I was beginning to get a complex.

  She got out of bed and paced to the door and back. Her shirt was untucked and her hair had fallen out of its ponytail. She looked like she’d just been ravaged on her desk at work—either that or taken a tumble in the dryer. I was hoping we could square away whatever was putting that look on her face and she’d come back to bed.

  Her thumbnail was held firmly between her teeth and her eyes squinted in concentration. She took a deep breath, dropped her hand and blurted out the absolute last thing I ever expected to hear.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Dead Rabbit Pitch

  BAILEY

  There are moments in your life you’ll never forget as long as you live. Every detail is burned into your memory and you can pull the moment out to replay it whenever you feel the urge. If the memory is particularly painful, it often comes out unbidden and you have to fight to push it back in because you never want to experience it again.

  The moment I spoke those words to Jake and saw the look on his face was one of those I knew I’d have to learn to banish. Because it was the kind that would haunt me.

  My words were hanging in the air when his face morphed from concern and confusion to something I can only describe as utter horror. He was the kid from The Shining and I was the creepy twin girls.

  How had I let Kelly talk me into this? It had seemed like such a no-brainer when I’d been sobbing on her couch and she was holding me in her tight embrace. Of course I had to tell Jake. I mean, his own mother knew, for God’s sake. And it wasn’t like this was something I could hide—I may be the queen of junk food, but no amount of pizza rolls and mozzarella sticks was going to hide the giant belly in my near future.

  Holy shit. I was going to have a giant belly! I was going to be one of those unfortunate pregnant women I see at the store, trying to reach the cereal box on the top shelf. Her ginormous belly gets in the way and she’s left flailing helplessly until someone takes pity on her and grabs the damn box of Frosted Flakes. That was going to be me! Me!

  I pushed the disturbing image aside and focused again on Jake’s face—he looked like he was witnessing an autopsy. The only thing that could make this moment worse would be if I vomited on him again. Which, in my current state, was entirely within the realm of possibility.

  I found that I couldn’t move or speak. I was frozen in this moment as it seared itself into my memory to torture me later. Time passed—no clue how much—and we both stared.

  Then, thank God, Jake’s expression shifted—not to anything good, mind you, but it did change. He affected either a lost or paranoid look now. It was hard to tell. His eyes shifted around the room as if looking for an answer to some unspoken question. I’d been looking for that answer all damn day and I could assure him it lay nowhere in this house. The only answer that existed could be boiled down to one word: FUCK!

  Yup, the deed had been done and we were totally fucked.

  He finally spoke. “Are you sure?”

  And that was what he said.

  I sputtered, “Am…am I sure?” I shook my head, not in answer to his question, but in sheer disbelief. “Do you really think I’d say something like that if I wasn’t sure, Jake?! Of course I’m sure! Jesus!”

  He put his hands out. “Okay, sorry. Sorry. I just…I’m just trying to process this.” His hands went to his hair where they scrubbed furiously, making a giant mess of things. If I hadn’t been so preoccupied with the minor issue of my pregnancy, I might have found it rather sexy.

  All right, I had to cut him a break here. I’d had several hours to digest this information and I was still a shell-shocked ball of emotions. He’d had a couple of minutes. I needed to reign in the crazy. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I know this is an absolute shock.”

  He nodded with wide eyes, his hands now dropping to his sides. “We used a condom. We used several condoms.”

  If I detected even the barest hint of a smile after that comment I was going to stab him. “Yes, I’m aware. Congratulations. Your sperm are overachievers.”

  Of course they were. I mean, look at him. It should have come as no surprise that Jake Beckett had super-hero sperm that could leap tall buildings in a single bound. A mere bit of latex was no match for Jake’s super-sperm. They scoffed at such pathetic obstacles. Hell, he’d probably knocked me up with triplets!

  He gave a mirthless laugh, apparently oblivious to the fact that I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. His spine lost the ability to keep him vertical
and he collapsed back on the bed, covering his eyes with one arm.

  I was left standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor with my heart racing. Well, at least he hadn’t asked me if I was sure the baby was his. That was something, right?

  I didn’t know what to do. Should I tell him not to worry about it—that I’d figure it out on my own? No. That was ridiculous. Should I ask him what he wanted to do? What if he wanted me to have an abortion? As terrifying as the mere thought of a baby was, I knew I couldn’t do that. And it wasn’t as if I were destitute or physically unable to care for a child. If I had to do it on my own, I would. My family would surely pitch in, right?

  I was having this baby one way or another.

  The words hit me squarely in the chest. It was the first time I’d let that concrete thought run through me. I was having a baby. This was one hell of a cosmic joke.

  Despite my resolve to cut Jake some slack, I found my eyes becoming wet once again as I watched him lay there, no doubt begging God or the devil to make this go away. Didn’t he understand I felt the exact same way? The same fear and helplessness? I suddenly wanted to punch him and his stupid super-sperm.

  Instead, I decided to leave before I did or said something I couldn’t take back. I had just turned to the door when I heard Jake’s voice.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” His tone was gentle.

  I turned back to him, still absolutely out of my element. He’d removed the arm from his face and was up on one elbow in the bed. The man had just heard the most shocking news of his life, and he looked like he was in the middle of a photo shoot for Calvin Klein underwear. Despite the dire circumstances, I wanted to roll my eyes.

  “Get your knocked-up ass over here, Irish.” And then he gave me a sheepish smile.

  A giant sob welled from my body, and I collapsed on top of Jake, eliciting a grunt of surprise. He put his arms around me and stroked my back while I let go a torrent of hormonally and emotionally driven tears. He whispered soothing words in my ear while every drop of moisture in my body deposited itself on his chest and pillow.

  “Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll figure this out together. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

  His words were a balm to my tortured heart and mind—and uterus, apparently.

  We stayed wrapped up together until I ran out of tears, and then Jake covered me with a blanket and went to get some water. When he came back, I gratefully accepted the bottle, draining it as he resumed his position on the bed. I was soon tucked into his side as I’d been when I’d awoken.

  “Look, I obviously don’t have anything figured out yet, and I’m sure you don’t either, but we’ll make a plan together. Okay?”

  I nodded into his shoulder. “I need to make a doctor’s appointment. I’m sure there’s a ton of stuff I need to find out.”

  “You tell me when and I’ll take you.”

  I couldn’t believe how calm he seemed about all of this.

  “Okay. I’ll call them tomorrow and let you know.”

  I wondered if he was having the same out-of-body sensation I was experiencing. We were having a baby. A small human was growing inside of me at that very moment, made up of half cheekbones and half tomboy.

  “I know there’s some rule about not telling people you’re pregnant until a certain amount of time passes. Are you past that point?” He pulled back and looked down at me.

  “I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about.”

  He uttered a small laugh. “We’ll get a book.”

  “Probably a good idea to get several,” I replied.

  “Regardless, we’re going to have to tell Mark since I’ll need his help moving my stuff into your place. Although, then Fiona will find out and there’s no point trying to hide it after that.”

  I hardly heard the end of his thought because my brain had arrested at the part about him moving into my place. “Um, what?”

  “Come on, you don’t really think Fiona could keep something this big to herself, do you?”

  “No, I mean the part about you moving your things into my condo.”

  “Well, yeah.” He shrugged as if this was some foregone conclusion. “It’s not like you can move in here. I’m sure my mom would love that, but not a chance in hell. If you think your family would feel better if the wedding came first, though, I suppose we could do a courthouse thing. I just figured you’d want a real wedding—but it’s totally up to you.”

  It took a moment for all of that to sink in.

  “It’s up to me,” I repeated.

  “Yeah. I mean, no offense, but guys don’t really care all that much about weddings.”

  I stared at him, wondering if the pod people had taken over. He was lying there, casually talking about marrying me in the same way one might chat about what to watch on TV. “Okay,” I began. “If it’s up to me, I choose no wedding and no moving in together.”

  His mouth turned down and a huge crease appeared on his forehead. “What are you talking about? We’re having a baby. We need to get married and move in together. I don’t care which order that comes in, but we’re doing it.”

  I sat up in the bed, pulling away from him. “Did you just order me to marry you?!”

  He grunted and rubbed a hand over his face. “Look, you’re taking this the wrong way. There’s a baby involved. It’s not about you and me anymore. It’s about that baby.” He pointed to my still-flat stomach.

  I winced inwardly at his words. It’s not about you and me…it’s about that baby. Ouch. “It seems entirely about you and me when we’re discussing living arrangements and life-long contracts, Jake!”

  “Are you saying you don’t want our baby to have both his parents living with him?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.” My hands clenched into fists. “Among other things, I don’t understand why we have to decide all of this right now! I mean, the rabbit just died!”

  “What? What rabbit?”

  I shooed him, “You know—the pregnancy-test rabbit.” I shook my head. “Never mind. I was watching some documentary on Discovery Health—forget it.”

  “Is this some hormonal thing?”

  If he finished this conversation with his balls still attached, it would be a miracle.

  “No, Jake.” My voice was steel and he appeared to understand the unspoken threat.

  “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I felt a tiny bit of relief wash over me. “Great. I’m glad you’re coming to your senses. We’ll just play this by ear. You can come with me to doctor’s appointments and we’ll worry about the rest down the road.”

  He shot me a quizzical look. “I meant I shouldn’t have said you were hormonal. We’re still getting hitched and living together.”

  “No, we are not!”

  Logically, I knew this baby changed everything. Regardless, I was not going to be some obligation or a consolation prize. We could raise this baby without being together. People did it all the time. I wasn’t about to offer myself up for the part of the albatross.

  “Why are you so against this? Does this have to do with that Anton guy? Because you are never laying eyes on that asshole again.” A vein popped out in Jake’s neck.

  “What the hell? How could you ask me that?”

  “From what I’ve learned the last couple days, I think he’s the reason you wouldn’t give me a chance in the first place!” I didn’t even want to think about what he might have heard from Mark and the girls.

  “Well, Jake, if a chance is what you’ve been looking for, you certainly have one now. A screaming, pooping, eighteen-year-long relationship is right around the corner. Enjoy!”

  “Exactly—that’s why we’re getting married.”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “Oh my God. Let’s hope the baby doesn’t get your intellect.”

  And, with that, I stormed out of the room, desperate to get out of this house. I could not bear to look at Jake
for one more second.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Alert: Imminent Alien Invasion

  JAKE

  I had absolutely no idea what just happened.

  I mean, Jesus, I’d gotten Bailey pregnant. That fact alone completely blew my mind. We’d been careful, I was sure of it. But I guess we were one of the unlucky couples who fell in the two percent error margin.

  Unlucky. Was that the right word?

  I mean, I was in no way prepared to be a father, but I’m thirty-three. I always figured I’d have kids at some point. I guess that point was now.

  And, sure, the order of events was not ideal, but I’d had that gut feeling about Bailey for weeks. Of any girl I’d ever dated, my feelings ran the deepest for her—which had to say something, given that we’d only been out on two and a half dates.

  Unlucky was not the right word. Scary as shit? Yes. Unlucky? Not really. I know, I’m shocked too.

  I didn’t know how to categorize my feelings for Bailey at this point. There was lust, affection, and a general desire to just be around her—all the time. That, and a compulsion to touch her and take care of her. I had no idea if that was love or not. I’d never been in love before.

  We had time to find all the right words down the line. We’d just move in together, get married, and have this baby—because he was coming either way. The rest would work itself out, and the thought of waking up next to Bailey for the rest of my life felt surprisingly un-scary. In fact, it felt pretty fucking awesome.

  She was having my baby—my baby.

  Shit, I was going to be a dad. If she thought I was going to bail on her or be a shitty husband and father, she had another thing coming. I was going to stick like glue to her and that kid, come hell or high water. She would never feel like my dad had made my mom feel, and our son would never have a single reason to doubt his father’s loyalty and devotion. Never.

  When I’d made the decision to come back home, it was to make up for lost time and fix what I’d broken by running away and staying gone for so long. I guess Fate wanted me to thoroughly prove myself with this curveball. Fate could take its best shot.