The Anchor

by B. N. Toler

  While everyone says their good-byes, I glance in the kitchen and spot Maddie writing something on Joey’s hand. Good grief. Joey does his sideways smirk and says something to her, and Maddie laughs. Oh, shit. They’re flirting. I don’t know how to feel about this at all. And I know Joey is a good guy, it’s my sister that’s the hell-raiser. Poor guy. But for now, it appears she’s only given him her number. Add that to the distance between them and it’s unlikely anything will pan out.

  “So, Mama,” I begin, trying to stifle the grin I want to let out. My mother and Nikki turn to me with questioning gazes. “Nikki really wants to cook Thanksgiving dinner and we want you guys to come to our house to join us.” And I barely stop myself from laughing.

  Nikki’s face goes ghost-white and her eyes fill with dread. I’m smiling, unable to stop myself. “Well, that would be lovely,” my mother says. “I’m happy to make and bring a few dishes.”

  “Thank you,” Nikki manages after a beat. “So we’ll see you in two weeks?” And my mother nods.

  They hug again, saying good-bye, and we all head home. The moment we get in the car Nikki gives me one of her infamous side pinches, making me hiss.

  “You’re an asshole,” she states.

  We’re all laughing when I say, “I’m going to help you, baby.” And I grin widely and try to pat her head. And my hand is halfway there when she leans back.

  “I don’t want your help,” she insists. “I’ll cook it by myself.”

  My brows rise. “Uh . . .”

  “And you’ll eat every damn bit of it and love it,” she adds, her left brow arched, daring me to argue.

  I lean over and kiss her cheek. She’s sitting in the passenger seat, seat belt on, and arms crossed. She’s too fucking cute. “Yes, I will,” I promise.

  It’s Tuesday. I’m at my shop, turning lights off, getting ready to head home. I had two violin lessons today and they were rough. I thought it’d be easier to teach than it is. I definitely have some tweaking to do with my methods. And honestly, maybe my heart just wasn’t in them.

  It’s 4:55 when my cell rings. I don’t recognize the number but I answer anyway.

  “Hello,” I answer.

  “Yes, I’m trying to reach Nicole Reese.”

  “This is she.”

  “Hi, I’m Angela, Doctor Morris’s head nurse.”

  My heart lodges in my throat. “Hi,” I manage.

  “The results came back for the amniotic fluid test.”

  I’m holding my breath, my heart pounding fast as I press my hand to my belly. Please let him be okay. Please. Please. Please.

  “Dr. Morris planned to call you but she had a delivery and asked me to. She wanted you to have the results as soon as possible.” And I swallow hard.

  “Yes, okay.” I breathe in deeply, preparing myself for the worst case scenario.

  “Everything came back negative,” she says, simply as can be.

  In the release of one breath, all the tension I’ve been carrying around for days rolls out of me. He’s okay. Our son is okay. Suddenly, I’m racked with sobs, shaking with relief as warm tears fall down my flushed cheeks.

  “Are you okay?” the nurse asks from the other end of the line.

  “Yes,” I cry, half laughing. “I’m so okay. Thank you so much.”

  She reminds me of the date of my next appointment and we hang up. Sitting down, I rub my belly and say, “Thank you, little dude. I love you so much. Everything is okay.” I lean back, my heart hurts I’m so happy. I have never been so scared in my life . . . ever. And to think, I thought the day I found out I was pregnant was the scariest day of my life. Nothing compares to this. I let out a few long breathes. “Now we need to tell Daddy.” This morning Parker told me he had to work a little late tonight, but I can’t wait to tell him and I want to tell him in person. I hop out of the chair and lock up, my smile a mile long, and climb in Dierk’s Expedition I’m still borrowing, and head toward Parker’s office. I really need to return it and either use Parker’s car or buy a used car of my own.

  Leaving the radio off, I start humming to myself. My poor cheeks feel stretched; I’m grinning so damn hard. And I’ve made it a little over halfway there when it starts pouring down, the raining making the windshield wipers work overtime. I flip on the hazard lights and proceed slowly down the street. “Come on, come on,” I whisper, as if my chant alone will motivate the rain to let up. Nothing is going to stop me from getting to Parker. Not when I feel an elated strength like never before. I’m a few blocks away when the car starts to sputter and breaks down. “Son of a bitch,” I groan as I manage to get the SUV parked. This is what I get for driving a borrowed car. Whipping my head to the backseat, I start looking around for an umbrella, a poncho, or hell, a plastic bag will do at this point. Nothing. Shit. Quickly, I unclick my seat belt and climb into the back. He has to have something I can use. I scan the second row of seats and then the third. Of course he doesn’t have an umbrella or anything of use back there. The only thing I find is an old condom wrapper stuck deeply in the back corner. “Gross,” I mutter as I head back to the front and peek out the driver’s side window. The rain continues to pound against the SUV. Once upon a time I would’ve whined and probably broken down. Not anymore. Screw it, it’s just rain and Parker’s office is only three blocks away, so I decide to woman up and climb out. The rain soaks me in minutes as I rush determinedly down the sidewalk, wiping my face as I go. By the time I reach the building and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the lobby window, I look like a wet dog. Jesus, I look worse than a drunken Jenn after a long night at Earl’s. As I ride the elevator up, I try to smooth my hair down as best I can. I know I look like utter hell, but I don’t care. I’m so excited to tell Parker the baby is healthy, nothing else matters.

  When I walk off the elevator, the office is quiet, much like it was the last time I showed up. I make my way down the hallway and see the light from Parker’s office just as Leanne walks in and shuts the door. My brows furrow as I near the door, wondering why she needed to close it. There’s no one else here that I can see. I’m trying not to jump to conclusions, but when I hear Parker’s voice, heightened and . . . angry, definitely angry . . . my fists clench.

  “I’m not interested,” Parker booms. “What the hell is wrong with you? Stop unbuttoning your blouse.” My heartbeat picks up speed and mouth drops open with his words. And I realize had I not walked in last time, she probably would have tried to give him a full strip show at this rate. The woman has worked for Parker for a short time, knew he was in a relationship, and still felt the need to undress for him. That dirty little whore. I’m going to kick her—

  “But I thought—”

  “I don’t care what you thought,” Parker interrupts her. “You need to turn around and walk out that door right now,” he says, his voice adamant, and my chest tightens with continued anger.

  “I see the way you look at me,” Leanne argues. Did she just purr?

  “I don’t look at you. In fact, I make it a point not to look at you. Open the door and go. Now!”

  A second later, the door flies open and Leanne rushes out, buttoning her flimsy blouse and mouthing asshole. When she realizes I’m there she halts, her eyes widen a fraction, then her mouth turns up, curling in the corners in a fictitious smile. The bitch has some nerve.

  “Oh, hi,” she greets. “Lovely to see you. Nikki, is it?”

  “Nikki,” Parker calls, his tone almost gasp-like and he rounds his desk, but I hold a hand up, stopping him.

  I give Leanne my best pageant smile, the one I’ve used to glamour many judges with in my heyday. “I’m going to give you two seconds to get your scrawny ass out of his office and my face,” I seethe through clenched teeth.

  Her smile drops and she inhales.

  “Learn to differentiate when you’re wanted and not wanted.” And I smile again as I step closer. “Go near him again, make a move on him again, and I will fuck you up,” Yeah, beauty queens can get gangster, to
o. Parker is mine and she damn well knew it. She slips by me and grabs her purse from her desk and hustles down the hallway. She may be a slut, but at least she’s a smart slut.

  My eyes narrow as I watch her leave, and I turn on my heel and tromp in his office, shutting the door behind me.

  “Baby,” he begins.

  “Shut up, Parker,” I croak out, and his head rears back.

  “I didn’t do anything,” he retorts, ignoring my demand. His nostrils flare as he continues to defend himself. “She came on to me.”

  Slipping off my saturated coat, I let it fall limply to the floor and rush him. My body slams to him as my mouth locks with his. I kiss him hard and passionately. He’s a little stunned at first and it takes him a second to get his bearings, but then he’s right there with me. Lifting me, he sets me on the corner of his desk, his fingers threading my soaked hair. As we kiss, I moan against his lips and unbuckle his belt and he pulls back.

  “You believe me?” He breathes heavily.

  “Yes, I do. I overheard what was said. But even if I hadn’t, I would’ve believed you, Parker. I know you love me.”

  His dark eyes rove over my face, his thumb grazing my cheekbone. “Fucking beautiful,” he whispers before biting my lower lip and slowly drawing it out with his teeth. He pushes back and pants as he stares at me. When he pulls my shirt over my head, I can’t help wrapping my arms around myself. My belly is definitely getting bigger. It’s very obvious that I’m pregnant and even though I’m excited about the baby, and even though I know Parker loves me, I’m still self-conscious.

  “Stop that,” he orders as he softly pulls my arms away.

  “I just don’t feel very sexy,” I admit as I glance back at the door where the evil stick figure exited. “I’m wearing jeans with a belly band for God’s sake.”

  He reaches out for my chin and uses a finger to turn my face toward him. His gaze flares and my cheeks flush as he presses both hands firmly to the sides of my bump and smiles. “I can’t wait to see you get bigger. I can’t explain why it turns me on knowing my child is growing inside of you, but damn . . . it does. You have no idea how you affect me, Nikki Reese.”

  I reach up and run my fingers through his hair, my heart swelling in adoration for this man that makes me feel so fucking special. “I have some good news.”

  “Yeah?” he asks as he reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, my heavy breasts falling free. His hand finds one and squeezes as he leans down, sucking the hard nipple in his mouth. “I fucking love these breasts,” he mumbles around his mouthful. My back arches and my head falls back as the sensation lights a fire in my core.

  “The baby,” I manage. “The test results came back.” His head jerks up and his dark eyes meet mine, fear looming in them as he straightens up.

  “What’d they say?”

  “He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.” I grin as tears fill my eyes. Parker steps back and pinches the bridge of his nose, clenching his eyes closed. I knew he was scared, just like me, but seeing his reaction, seeing how overcome he is with the knowledge the baby is okay, hits me hard. He’s been strong for me; putting on a show to keep me grounded knowing one of us had to stay steady. If he hadn’t been here, pushing me to keep busy, distracting me, I would’ve spent the week in bed, sick with dread and worry. But he kept me grounded. He falls to his knees, his face level with my belly, and places his hands on both sides of it again, kissing it softly.

  “Thank you,” he whispers, but I’m not sure who he’s thanking. Me, the baby, or God.

  “He’s okay, Parker,” I cry. When he looks up, his eyes are filled with relief.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life. Our child is on the way . . . and he’s healthy. And you half naked on my desk. Could life get any more perfect?”

  I grin as I wipe under my eyes. “I don’t think so,” I chuckle.

  His expression goes slack. “What?” I ask nervously.

  Standing up, he cups my face in his hands. “Marry me.”

  My eyes widen. “What?”

  “Marry me. I know it’s only been a few months, but the way I feel about you . . . I love you. I do. You. You’re my dream, Nikki.”

  My heart beats wildly. We haven’t been together that long. And I never in a million years imagined I’d be proposed to, let alone while half naked and pregnant on my boyfriend’s desk. But the thought of saying no feels wrong because I so badly want to say yes. I love this man.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Yes?” he questions.

  “Yes,” I softly confirm.

  He shakes his head as he grips my face firmer and leans closer. “Fucking beautiful,” he rasps.

  Then he attacks. He lifts me up and turns me so I’m facing his desk. Since I’m wearing maternity jeans, they’re easy to tug down, and he finishes by tearing my panties off. I hear the clank of his belt buckle hit the ground, followed by the unzipping of his pants, and then he’s inside of me. My forehead presses to the desk as I moan in pleasure, his hard cock filling me full. His weight resting on my back, hands roving over my bottom as he pushes inside me. I’m so close to coming when he stops and pulls out. I look back at him and see him slipping his shoes off, and then the remainder of his pants and boxer briefs before he walks over to the leather couch against the wall. When he sits, he unbuttons his shirt.

  “Take off your pants, Nicole,” he commands.

  My mouth goes dry as I stare at him, his dress shirt open revealing his hard and chiseled chest and stomach, his dick hard and at full stand, looking sexy as fuck, waiting for me on the couch. I shimmy my pants and shoes off and walk toward him.

  “Stop,” he orders me. “Let me look at you.”

  My body is nothing like the first time we were together, and even then I was self-conscious when he watched me. So now it’s worse, but I know that’s in my head. Parker likes looking at me, so I let him.

  “Touch your breasts,” he demands as his hand fists his cock and he starts stroking himself slowly. My lips part as I watch him, my hands finding my breasts and squeezing my sensitive nipples. Fuck, he looks so hot touching himself. Wetness pools between my legs, almost dripping from me; I’m so turned on.

  “Please, Parker,” I beg, “I’m so wet.”

  He growls and strokes a little faster. “Be patient, beautiful. Touch yourself down there.”

  My hand flies south and I slip my fingers inside me, my breathing erratic as I work my fingers in and out. Biting my lip, I attempt to contain the whimpers I desperately want to let out. Agony and ecstasy control my movements and I pump my fingers harder, deeper. “That’s my girl,” he encourages. “You’re so fucking sexy.” He watches me, intensely, telling me to slow down and pinch my nipples as I please myself. I follow every order, wishing my touch could come close to what his does to me. I’m so wound up, I’ll probably come just from the way he stares at me, eye-fucking me from head to toe with his determined gaze. After a few minutes, he puts me out of my misery and says, “Stop, and come here.”

  I move to him on trembling legs and he grabs my wrist, yanking my hand to his mouth and sucking my arousal from my fingers, his warm tongue rolling around each finger, making sure to get every bit.

  “You taste so fucking good, baby,” he growls. His expression is serious, almost stoic when he looks at me. It’s hard to explain what I see. He looks angry, but in a good way. Like he wants me so badly or is so turned on that it pisses him off. It’s sexy as fuck. “Straddle me and put me inside you, Nicole.” My body trembles as I sit on him. My belly acts as a small buffer between us, but I don’t think about it for long. Parker thinks it’s hot. That’s all that matters. I slowly sheathe his cock inside of me, gasping when he thrust his hips up, fully seating himself inside of me.

  “That’s my princess,” he murmurs as his hands stroke my back. I hated him calling me princess once. I thought he was making fun of me. I thought he was mocking me. But I don’t think that anymore. Now, I know he’s being sweet
; loving. My damp hair falls loosely over my breasts, the cold, wet tendrils cooling my heated body. His mouth finds one of my nipples again as I move up and down once. Parker doesn’t rush me . . . we go slow. Achingly slow. And while it’s soft and beautiful, he squeezes my flesh, bites me everywhere; neck, arms, breasts. Bringing the right amount of pain. Somehow, he makes it rough and gentle all at once. Always perfect.

  And when we’re both finished and exhausted, lying on the couch in each other’s arms, I feel safer and happier than I ever have in my entire life.

  “Let’s get married on Thanksgiving Day,” Parker suggests, his voice muffled as his mouth dances over my skin.

  “Sounds perfect,” I murmur sleepily.

  I got married today. It was a simple ceremony; quaint. So unlike me. And it was perfect. The people we love most were there to watch us join hands.

  We threw together a little reception at Earl’s and even though only a few were invited to the actual wedding, everyone and anyone were welcome at the reception. Surprisingly, a lot of people showed up, considering it’s Thanksgiving Day. Luckily, I got out of cooking Thanksgiving dinner since we were getting married. We hired a caterer, but Parker assured his mother we would be having it at our house next year. After I pinched the shit out of him, I tried to look on the bright side. At least I have a year to practice my cooking.