The Anchor

by B. N. Toler

  Parker snorts a little laugh before climbing off the bed and coming behind me. “You’re right. We should wait until our kid graduates high school, and then we’ll tell them.”

  “Okay, smart-ass,” I grumble. “Can you blame me for being a little nervous? It’s not like telling my father went so well.”

  “Your father is a dick,” he sneers. “My parents will be shocked, but they won’t treat you like shit.” His tone is angry. I know he hates my father now. And my dad isn’t exactly my favorite person either, but he’s still my dad and it’s hard to hear someone talk about him like that. But I decide not to say anything.

  Parker kisses my shoulder as his arms wrap around my waist and rests his hands on my belly. I’m still barely showing, but there is a noticeable firm bump now. “How are you feeling? I noticed you didn’t get sick this morning,” he points out.

  “Yeah, the last week or so it’s been a lot better. I guess now that I’m getting out of the first trimester, it’s a little bit easier.”

  “I think I’m going to miss you getting sick.”

  I twist my neck so I can glance at him over my shoulder, giving him a what the fuck? look.

  He chuckles. “When you get sick you’re so sweet and vulnerable. You let me take care of you. Normally, you’re all . . . cranky.”

  I smack his arm. “Excuse me? No I’m not, asshole,” I argue.

  He chuckles a little more. “I still can’t believe a little piece of you and me is growing inside of you. Seems kind of magical, doesn’t it?” Placing my hand over his, I smile. I love how enamored he is with this journey. Me, I’m not quite there yet and I know I’m a real dickhead because of it. But, every day, I feel a little better about it. Hopefully, that means something good. “No dresses today. Wear something comfortable. My folks are pretty low-key,” he announces.

  “Okay,” I agree.

  With that, he kisses my neck and backs away, smacking my ass as he goes. “Fucking beautiful.”

  The interview went well. Very fucking well. But the pay is far less then what I’ll make if I pass the New York State Bar and remain at my current office. Of course, I have to weigh in that living expenses are far less in North Carolina than they are in New York. I was told they’d be in touch. Now I wait.

  We’re pulling into the driveway at my parents’ house and I can feel Nikki’s nervousness rolling off of her. My parents live in a humble home, nothing special. My dad is no landscaper so the grass is always butchered short and filled with weeds. I park the car and cut the engine and turn to face Nikki, placing my hands on each of her cheeks.

  Leaning forward, I rest my forehead against hers and breathe her in. “Don’t be nervous, baby. They’re going to love you.” I want to comfort her. I want her to feel like my family is her family. All the way here I tried to tell her about my parents, my childhood memories, and so on. She listened and laughed when the stories called for it, but maybe it’s just something she’s going to have to see for herself.

  “I just . . . want them to like me. I know what they mean to you.” Pulling back, I smile softly as I brush a stray strand from her face.

  “They’re going to love you.”

  She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Smirking at me, she nods once and opens her door. Yeah, that’s my girl. I lead her inside the house, hand in hand, the smell of fried chicken hitting me immediately. My mother is the best damn cook in the South, bar none.

  “Damn, something smells good,” Nikki whispers to me.

  “Wait until you taste it,” I whisper back.

  “Parker!” my mother squeals as we round the entry to the kitchen. She practically flies toward me and wraps her arms around my neck. I lift and spin her. She smells like a mixture of the best foods on the planet.

  “Hey, Mama,” I laugh as I place her back on her feet and kiss her cheek. “You look great.”

  My mother beams a bashful smile at me as she fusses with her hair. My mother isn’t a beauty queen but she is pretty. She has a real look to her. She’s natural and down-to-earth. She’s wearing her usual jeans and a V-neck shirt, an apron tied around her waist. “And you must be Nikki,” she practically sings as she focuses on Nikki who stands to my left.

  “That’s me.” Nikki smiles and I almost laugh, but stop myself. I know no matter how confident Nikki seems, there are times she’s nervous and unsure as hell. But she’s always managed to hide it behind a confident—I’m scared of nothing—façade. Right now, however, as my mother tackles her in a hug that Nikki awkwardly returns, she looks nervous as hell.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Hayes,” Nikki says, politely, as my mother releases her death grip on her.

  “And you, too. My, she is beautiful, Parker.” My mother sighs happily as she looks from Nikki to me, concurring with what I’d told her on the phone two days ago.

  “Inside and out, Mama,” I agree.

  Nikki gives me a look that says, God, you’re an asshole because you’re so awesome. “Thank you.” Nikki nods once. “You have a lovely home.”

  My mother chuckles. “Well, it’s not much, but it is home.”

  Before anyone can say anything else, I’m grabbed in strong, rough arms from behind and lifted off the ground. “How’s my boy?” My father’s deep voice laughs as he shakes me. When he puts me back on my feet, I spin around and hug him.

  “Doing well, Pop. It’s good to see you.” When we pull away, he gives my shoulder a hard squeeze. “Pop . . . this is Nikki.”

  Pop looks at Nikki, his brows rising before he looks back at me, his eyes saying one thing: Well done, son. I want to laugh, but I nod and he looks back to Nikki.

  “It’s lovely to meet you. Nikki, is it? My name’s Allen.” My father smiles as he reaches his hand out to shake hers.

  “It’s short for Nicole, but everyone calls me Nikki,” she replies.

  “I’m the only one allowed to call her Nicole,” I throw in. Nikki’s cheeks flame pink and her eyes widen as she glances at me.

  “Nikki it is then,” Pops chuckles.

  “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

  “You kids come sit down. Dinner is ready,” my mother chimes in, and my father follows her into the kitchen.

  “I’m going to kill you slowly and mercilessly as soon as we leave here,” Nikki whispers as we head toward the kitchen.

  “Oh, baby. I love when you talk dirty to me.”

  She gives my side a hard pinch and I hiss as she scurries away from me into the kitchen. Damn, I’m crazy about this woman.

  If I’m being honest, I had no idea what to expect tonight. But so far the Hayes have been nothing but wonderful. And after practically licking my plate, it’s not hard to see where Parker got his exceptional cooking skills from. God bless his mother for teaching him. The conversation at dinner was so . . . wonderful. We laughed and talked about everything from football to the Hayes sharing stories about their neighbors, the Mumpreys, and the feud between them about who owned the apple trees that lined both properties.

  After dinner, I help his mother clear the table and we do the dishes together. She tells me basically every wonderful thing there is to know about Parker; he was such a good boy, always helped with everything, and always looked out for his little sister, Maddie.

  I love the way she speaks about him. And I envy him a little. I never had this, and never will. But while I envy him, it also makes my heart happy. Parker deserves this. He is good in every way possible.

  We’re in the living room now and Adele, as his mother insisted I call her, has just flopped down beside me, placing a big box on the coffee table in front of us. Parker, who sits to my right of us, groans at the sight of it.

  “Come on, Mama. Not tonight,” he begs, causing his father to chuckle.

  “Oh, are these pictures of Parker growing up?” I ask, my brows high as excitement courses through me. “I gotta see these,” I laugh.

  “Did I mention that although beautiful, she’s quite menacing and cruel?” Par
ker jibes, and he grunts when I hit him in the stomach with the back of my hand.

  “Now, you stop it, Parker,” Adele tsks. “These are some of my most-prized possessions.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Parker mumbles as he leans back and runs a hand over his face. “It was nice dating you, Nikki,” he jests.

  Adele leads me through each photo, from infancy to elementary school, until we reach high school and I can’t stop laughing. I’m holding a picture of a pimply-faced Parker with metal braces to my chest as I try to contain my laughter. I really am an asshole. Parker sits next to me, sipping whiskey from a glass that his father brought him at some point.

  “We weren’t all beauty queens in high school, Miss Reese,” Parker grumbles.

  “Aww . . . baby,” I giggle as I lean over and kiss his shoulder. “I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing with you.”

  Parker purses his lips in mock annoyance. “Not sure it feels that way,” he chuckles. Quickly, he snatches the photo from me and stands holding it above his head, keeping it from me as I stand and try to get it back.

  “One more look and I’ll give it back,” I promise. “I need to commit it to memory so I can pull it out when I’m having a bad day.”

  “And have yourself a laugh at my expense?” he asks.

  “Your braces were so cute. Come on, baby. Please.”

  “No way,” Parker laughs hardily. “I’ll not have ya making jokes about me teeth, lass,” he says, in a horrible imitation of a Scottish accent.

  “But you wore them so well,” I argue.

  He looks up at the photo, then back at me. “Let’s just hope our baby gets your straight teeth and stellar looks.”

  My laughter evaporates into thin air as does his, as once again, Parker has inadvertently revealed we’re having a baby. Okay, so we were going to tell his parents tonight anyway, but the plan was to ease in to it. Not just drop the bomb by accident. The room is silent as I drag my eyes from his and take a deep breath and look to his parents whose eyebrows are touching their hairlines.

  “Well . . .” Parker snorts as he shakes his head, placing his hands on my shoulders and giving them a little squeeze that says, Here we go. “You’re going to be grandparents.” He gives an audible pause. “Yayyy . . .” He lets his last word drag on, fading in volume as he does.

  I close my eyes to avoid rolling them. This man. Jesus.

  Adele looks to Allen and he grins. “You’re going to be a grandma.”

  Adele grins as she meets her husband’s eyes. “Will you still want me when I’m a grandma?”

  “Just stop. Don’t go there, Mama,” Parker pleads. I’m already smiling.

  “Oh, I’ve kind of always wanted to have my way with a grandmother,” Allen purrs.

  “For the love of everything that is good and holy, stop this,” Parker begs as he raises his hands and covers his ears. I’m grinning so big right now, it hurts. His parents just might be my favorite people in the world right now.

  Allen hops up and kisses Adele. “I love you, woman.”

  She looks up to him, her eyes filling with tears as she looks from him to me and Parker. “My baby is going to have a baby.”

  I glance back at Parker over my shoulder and he smiles and nods once before wrapping his arms around me. “I’m a lucky man, Mama.” Could he be any more perfect? I mean, really? Adele hops up as well, tears now streaming down her face as she pulls Parker and me in for a big hug. That’s followed by Allen hugging us both. We spend the next half hour or so filling them in on our plans. They’re ecstatic Parker is moving back to North Carolina and Adele asks when we can go shopping for baby items together. I nearly choke at the thought. I don’t think I’m ready yet. I struggle for something to say. Anything. But nothing is coming out.

  “Soon, Mama. We have some time and there are other things we need to get in order first,” Parker intervenes, saving me. I squeeze his hand in thanks.

  When we leave that night, Adele hugs me tightly. “I know you’re probably scared, I know I was,” she admits, causing my brows to furrow slightly in confusion. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” she adds.

  “Thank you, Adele. I truly appreciate it. Everything was so lovely tonight. I loved it.”

  She kisses my cheek and gives me a pointed look. “You make sure this son of mine takes good care of you. He needs to cook for you and rub your feet. You let me know if he falls out of line.”

  “You hear that, babe?” I grin as I look to Parker. “Foot rubs every day or I’m calling your mama.”

  Parker sighs. “Mama. Have you seen her feet? They’re covered in warts and her toenails are yellow. I fear for my well-being if I’m forced to touch them every day.”

  I punch his chest. “My feet are perfect,” I argue.

  “She’s also abusive. Save me, Mama,” he mock whines. Adele throws her head back and laughs and walks us out onto the porch as we chuckle. We leave his parents on the porch and they watch us pull away, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. I realize my whole life I’ve had money. I’ve lived in the lap of luxury; fancy cars, amazing vacations, and the best clothes, but I’ve never had what the Hayes family has. They are rich beyond anything I’ve ever seen.

  Nikki is on her side curled up against me the next morning when Edie barges in beating a metal pan with a wooden spoon. She flops down on the bed and bounces gently over to us as she continues to beat the pan. John follows her in, strumming a guitar way out of tune. He has no idea how to play.

  “What the fuck?” Nikki shouts as I fight to pull the cover over her to make sure she doesn’t flash them. We’re both naked.

  “Today is the day!” John shouts. “Get your asses out of bed!”

  “What’s today?” I question, starting to get angry. I barely sleep and these hours with Nikki where I actually do are beyond precious to me.

  Nikki turns her head to me and smiles. “I have a surprise for you.” So she’s not mad?

  I narrow my eyes. “You do?”

  “Yes. Now get up!” John shouts. Chipper bastard. “We’ve been awake for hours waiting on you assholes.”

  Edie is still bouncing when I look up and give her a pointed stare. “If you guys don’t get out of this room, right now, you’re going to get a glimpse of my morning wood.” Yep. That should do it. John immediately spins and bolts out of the room. Edie climbs down, chuckling to herself. “She’s seen Suit’s.” Then she shuts the door.

  “What do you mean she’s seen mine?” we hear John ask outside of the door.

  “Those pictures we took with my cell phone. I was showing her a picture of the foal and she scrolled right when I warned her not to.”

  “Jesus, Edie.”

  “She said you are big,” Edie defends, as if this should make John feel better.

  “Jesus,” John grumbles.

  “You saw a picture of John’s dick?” I ask, not liking the inevitable answer one bit. “And you think he’s big?”

  Nikki laughs as she rolls out of bed, giving me an excellent shot of her ass. Damn, I’m hard. “He’s not hurting in that department. That’s for sure.”

  “Wow.” I shake my head as I stand. “I really shouldn’t have asked.”

  “Get dressed. I’m so excited,” she adds as she bounces up and down, joy strewing across her features. I don’t care what the surprise is. If it makes her this happy, I’ll love it.

  “You don’t like it?” Nikki pouts as she watches me. I’m working hard to hide my thoughts, but I guess my lack of expression says the opposite of what she was hoping for.

  “Let’s give them a few minutes, Edie,” John says, then leads her out the front door of the house they’ve been helping Nikki renovate—their house. Well, I guess technically it’s Edie’s, but John and Edie are a unit now so I guess it’s theirs. Apparently the house was built years ago on Edie’s property for her great-aunt, but when the aunt passed, it remained vacant. Ladders and paint buckets are everywhere and dust covers the aged wood floors. />
  “I thought you’d love it.”

  “It’s a nice house,” I agree. “But . . .”

  “It’s a three-bedroom,” Nikki interrupts. “And it has two and a half baths.

  “Nikki—”

  “And we can fence in the yard,” she adds.

  I rub my face roughly with both hands, trying to keep my cool. I don’t want to sound like a dick. I know everyone has put a lot of hard work into fixing this place up, but once again, it feels as if Nikki has made a huge decision without me. First, she agrees to move in with Edie without telling me first. Now, our best friends are letting us live in their house on their property. I don’t want handouts. I’m a man. I need to be able to take care of my woman and my family on my own.

  “How does this work?” I ask, my consistent tone still not hiding any of the contempt I feel right now.

  “I’m paying for the renovations. It’ll count as rent for a while, and then we’ll start paying rent.”

  “And what’s the rent? Two dollars a month?”

  “Parker. I wouldn’t screw my friends like that. You said to find a place close to Edie where we could bring the baby home when it was born. That’s what I did.”

  “Yeah, but this feels . . . like a handout.”

  “It’s not. I’m paying to fix it up, we will pay rent, and then they have a perfectly good house to rent out after we leave. It’s an investment for them. We’re helping each other out.”

  “And how much did it cost to fix this? Did you use all of your pageant money?”

  She presses her lips together and looks away as she crosses her arms. “Some of it.”

  “What does that mean?” I question as I step in front of her and bend down so I meet her eyes.

  “I have a trust fund.”

  “What?”

  “It was set up for me years ago. My father had his secretary send me an email with the details, letting me know I had access to money if I needed it.”

  I narrow my eyes in confusion. “So the man that called our baby a bastard, who cut you off, makes sure you know you have access to his money?”