Size Queen: A Motorcycle Club Biker Romance (Size Matters Book 3)

by S. C. Adams

  I’m at a shoot today, her text reads. I’m not sure what time I’ll be off.

  Ah, I see, I text back. I was hoping that maybe we could get together today and hang out.

  Oh? What did you have in mind?

  I don’t care, I just want to see you, I write. Even if it’s just to meet and talk. Why don’t I get you dinner?

  I wait an excruciating two minutes for her reply, but it’s worth it:

  I would love to, she says. Would you mind if we went to the waffle house on Cedar? I haven’t been, and I’m craving some breakfast food right now.

  Sounds good! I text. Text me after your shoot, and I’ll see you there.

  She ends our correspondence then with a simple but nice smiley face.

  Noelle’s shoot ends around seven, and she requests an hour or so to get ready. I know that I’ll be waiting, but I want to get out of the clubhouse and stop brooding and worrying about anything to do with the Rolling Heads or the law. So I get on my trusty Yamaha (now fully repaired), and I take off to the waffle house on Cedar.

  The place is called Bro’s Waffles, and the aroma wafting from the door alone is enough to entice me to peruse their menu while I wait. I’m sure I must look at pictures of Bro’s waffles and platters for a good ten minutes, my mind on anything but food.

  Finally, she arrives. She looks gorgeous, dressed nicely and glowing.

  “Hi,” I say like a nervous idiot.

  “Hey.” She smiles weakly.

  We hug, holding it for quite a few seconds.

  “How are you?” she asks me.

  “I’m great now,” I say with a sigh. “How’ve you been?”

  “Oh… I could be better.” She chuckles. “You wanna go in?”

  “I’d love to.” I hold the door open for her. “This place is packed! How late are these guys open?”

  “They’re open 24/7,” says Noelle.

  “That’s what’s up,” I say while looking for a place to sit.

  We deal with what isn’t important, which ironically is ordering our meal. I let her look over the menu that I’ve now had time to memorize. My eyes dart from the menu to the beauty in front of me. We don’t make direct eye contact, instead “checking each other out” like high school kids. After we give our server our order and he takes our menus away, we face each other fully.

  “So, you ever going to tell me what’s going on?” I ask her. “I’ve been worried about you ever since I saw you last. I know you were crying. I just… please tell me if I did something to upset you. I swear, it wasn’t my intention—”

  “No, you didn’t—you didn’t make me cry,” she says. “I’ve been having a really tough last week.”

  “You can tell me about it, you know.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” she assures me. “I just haven’t been brave enough, I’m sorry.”

  “Noelle, what is it?” I ask, agitated.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  The entire waffle house goes completely silent. Or at least it feels like it.

  I’m suddenly numb. Her admission feels like a sucker punch.

  It can’t be… We wore condoms… I pulled out… Those don’t always work…

  “Damon?”

  “I’m sorry—you’re what, now?” I stutter.

  “I’m pregnant,” she repeats. It doesn’t shock me any less hearing it the second time.

  “Wow. Uh… okay then,” I say while chuckling awkwardly. “Are you… so are you trying to say…?”

  “I haven’t slept with anyone else besides you this whole year,” she says. “It’s yours, I promise.”

  “Okay.” I’m still trying to process. “Not that I don’t believe you, but… would you happen to…”

  As if she can read my mind, she goes through her phone and pulls up a picture of her with the pregnancy test taken a few days ago. Positive. I take a deep breath, pulverized inside.

  “Is it bad that I’m hoping you’re just lying to me to try and get some child support money?” I say with another uncomfortable laugh.

  “I’m not lying,” she says, shaking her head. “That test you saw there wasn’t even the first one I tried. I peed on a few of them.”

  “And they’re all positive?”

  “They are,” she confirms. “You don’t think there’s a chance all three could have been false positives, do you?”

  “Hey, don’t ask me,” I say with my hands up. “I know nothing about the ways of the pregnant. That’s what you want to hear from the guy that knocked you up, right?”

  We laugh together. It’s a contradiction considering we both feel like we’re descending down an unknown tunnel.

  Her smile morphs into despair, and she covers her face. She breaks down in tears. I’m instantly reminded me of the last time we were together and she ran into the bathroom to cry away from me. This time, I’m not going to let her get away or separate us over anything.

  “Noelle, please don’t cry.”

  She sniffs, trying to wipe her face as discreetly as possible. “Sorry…”

  “Hey, no need to apologize,” I tell her. “I’m pretty freaked-out right now, myself. It takes a lot to freak me out, I have to tell you.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she says while trying to compose herself. “I… I’ve been thinking about all my options.”

  “And?”

  “Have you ever gotten a girl pregnant before me?” she interjects.

  “Not that I know of,” I say slowly. “I never thought something like this would happen to me. I’ve never even entertained it.”

  “You didn’t want kids down the road?” she wonders.

  I shrug. “I wasn’t even sure I was going to get married. I try not to think too far ahead. I live in the present.”

  “Well, I have to think in terms of the future,” says Noelle. “At least right now. I need to know what I’m going to do. It’s not just me by myself anymore.”

  “Are you talking about… when you say you were thinking about ‘options’…”

  “I thought about alternatives to having the baby, and none of them feel right to me,” she says. “I’m sorry. I wish I could make myself a person who could go through something like that—”

  “You shouldn’t do something you aren’t totally comfortable doing,” I reply. “Don’t do anything rash unless it’s what you want. This decision isn’t mine to make.”

  “I won’t be able to model in a couple of months once I get too big,” she laments. “No more shoots means no more income. No income… I can’t raise a baby like this.”

  “Just know that whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you,” I promise. “If you decide you don’t want to have it, I’ll be there with you. If you want to keep the baby, I’ll be there, too—if you want.”

  “Really?”

  “Definitely. If you don’t want me around… I guess I get it. But I don’t want to just ignore you now. I don’t like you any less with you pregnant. I still want you in my life. I want to be in that baby’s life.”

  “Really?” she asks with obvious disbelief. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Why not? I’m serious.”

  “You’re saying that because you feel like you have to,” she guesses. “You just said you never even thought about having kids.”

  “I’ve also said that I don’t run away from my responsibilities. I’m not just going to go about life while you’re carrying our child.”

  “It wouldn’t make you any less of a man if you didn’t want to stick around,” says Noelle. “You’ve got your priorities. You probably don’t even have time for a kid.”

  “That’s not true,” I retort. “I have things I always need to tend to, but who doesn’t? My priorities can include raising a child.”

  “What about the club and all the dangers that come with it?” she asks. “Your enemies could go after you by trying to hurt the baby. Isn’t that possible?”

  “Noelle, anything is possible,” I say.
“Someone out in the world might want to hurt our child.”

  “You know what I mean. You being in charge of the Rolling Heads scares me. I’m afraid to even go to your clubhouse again now that I’m pregnant. I don’t want anything to happen to the baby…”

  “Noelle, I will never let anything hurt you or our baby,” I say with assurance. “No one’s going to mess with me, either.”

  “So your rival gang didn’t try to burn you alive in their own clubhouse?”

  I keep cool. “That’s different.”

  “How the hell is that different? Your enemies weren’t just trying to fuck with you—they were trying to kill you!”

  I have no suitable response at that exact moment.

  “Even if you weren’t doing anything to directly get us in trouble, you know what is different?” she continues. “Raising children around a dangerous criminal gang. How do you know you aren’t going to be arrested? What if you did something illegal and got caught and you’ve agreed to help me?”

  “Me being in charge of the club is a major positive, milady,” I argue. “Assuming anyone were after you—which there isn’t or won’t be—you and our child would always be under the watchful eye of the Rolling Heads. You will always be protected.”

  I can’t tell if that seems appealing to her or if she’s merely mulling it over. I use her contemplation to carry on.

  “You’ll always be safe with me. You have my guarantee,” I continue. “I would want to keep things separate anyway. I don’t want family life colluding with work life, so you and this child will never even factor into an equation.”

  I’m losing her. She’s subtly shaking her head while she sips her drink.

  “None of my guys were involved in what happened at that clubhouse,” I say in desperation. “The Hell-Snakes burned the place down to try and frame us. The arson case is coming to a close—”

  “It doesn’t matter who started it!” she cries. “You don’t get it.”

  She stands, crumpling up her napkin, and looks to the door.

  “I’m sorry,” says Noelle. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  She leaves me, not even giving me time to stand and give her a farewell.

  What now?

  18

  Noelle

  I’m now a little over six weeks pregnant, but I think I look more like sixteen weeks. I’ve been bloated as well over the last week, with no signs of stopping. I’m working every shoot the agency offers in anticipation of the months ahead when work will likely be harder to find.

  I looked for a good doctor for about a week before choosing one right by the beach. I knew that I had to do it—I wasn’t just looking after myself anymore, and I was aware of how frequently I was going to have to see a variety of doctors before and after I gave birth. It didn’t make the experience any less taxing.

  Damon and I texted occasionally, just so that we wouldn’t forget about each other. I told him I’d made a doctor’s appointment, and of course, he asked if he could accompany me. I told him I was fine and didn’t need him to do anything. In hindsight, I wish I had told him to come along.

  As I sit in the cold room while my examiners inspect me up, down, and everywhere, I can’t help but think about my modeling career. I’m still terrified of losing it all. Despite having looked over my contract at least a dozen times to verify my query—and despite the contract saying nothing about termination over a pregnancy—I still can’t help but feel like I’m doomed. Sabrina is under the impression that, at worst, I’m likely only going to be out of work through the duration of my pregnancy. She thinks it’d be better if I let the agency know right away what’s going on with me, but I disagree.

  After my appointment is over with, I go straight home. I’m only been inside my apartment for about two minutes before Sabrina comes knocking on my door.

  “How was your appointment?” she asks.

  “Fine. It was an appointment. Everything’s normal.”

  “Well, that’s good,” she says. “Did you go by yourself?”

  “Yep. I texted Damon over the weekend and let him know I was doing it, though.”

  “He didn’t want to go with you?”

  “He did,” I reply. “I… I wanted to go alone.”

  Her face is disapproving, as it often is whenever the conversation revolves around Damon himself.

  “You know you’re really crushing him like this, don’t you?” she asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Damon’s really upset,” says Sabrina. “I mean… I’ve not seen it in person, but I believe it. Kace was telling me all about it. Pretty revealing stuff.”

  “What?” I stand up straighter. “What are you talking about? What did he say?”

  “He—”

  “Hold on a second. What’s going on with you and Kace anyway? You haven’t brought him up in weeks. I thought you two were done hooking up.”

  “I thought so, too, but hey, he’s been fun to play with.” She grins. “I just left Kace’s, actually. He was telling me about Damon being bummed out, upset that you aren’t letting him in.”

  “Sabrina, I can’t let him in,” I say for what feels like the thousandth time. “You’re sleeping with his fucking lieutenant—you know where I’m coming from.”

  “Hey, you chose to sleep with your gang leader, just like I did,” she retorts. “And don’t think just because I’m sleeping with Kace right now that it means I’m going to fall in love with him or try to have babies with him.”

  “I did not ‘try’ to have a baby with him,” I say defensively. “At least I’m trying to stay away from the Rolling Heads. You’re still involved.”

  “We’re not ‘involved.’ I’m not really sure what you would call it. We’re just messing around—we’re not labeling anything or making a big deal about it. It’s been a lot of fun. And we always wear condoms.”

  I roll my eyes, wanting to fight her but resisting, knowing that it would be a losing battle.

  “Anyway,” Sabrina continues, “Damon really wants to see you. He misses you.”

  “I miss him, too,” I admit wholeheartedly. “The issue isn’t attraction or… caring. I like him a lot.”

  “And he really likes you, too,” she says with authority. “Kace says that Damon doesn’t ever focus on one single woman—for any reason—and his focus isn’t due to obligation. He’s doing what he thinks is best.”

  I finally give in and break the silence between me and the father of my child. I skip a text and go straight to a phone call. I only have to wait a few seconds before he answers the phone.

  “Hey!” says Damon with excitement. “Noelle! How are you?”

  “Hey. I’m okay. How’ve things been for you?”

  “Well, they’ve been absolutely perfect,” he responds. “At the risk of jinxing it—knock on wood—I believe things are looking up majorly.”

  “How so?”

  “Well… I think that conversation would be much better suited for in person. I know it probably sounds like I’m just trying to make up an excuse for us to see each other, but I mean it. Big things are happening—good things. Do you think maybe you’d be able to come by my place soon and I could tell you about it?”

  I hesitate at first, but I want to hear his story. Any good news is welcome, as far as I’m concerned.

  I don’t go over to his place immediately. I make myself look pretty, putting on a nice dress that’ll help me forget how pregnant I’m becoming, forgoing makeup due to my now-natural glow.

  I get to his place, parking on the street by his mailbox. I think he was waiting for me, because he opens the door as I’m walking up to it.

  “I’m so glad you could make it,” says Damon, pulling me in for a hug.

  We embrace and hold, neither of us wanting to pull back first.

  “I missed you,” Damon whispers in my ear.

  “I missed you, too,” I tell him. “Sorry I took so long.”

  “Please,” he dismisses with a wave. “I c
an’t believe you made yourself look all fabulous for me. I mean, you always look great, but you know, you’ve got the dress and, you know—”

  “It’s okay, Damon,” I laugh. “I know what you meant. Thank you.”

  Inside, he has a beer by his chair and a meal cooking in the kitchen.

  “I was making some chili,” he informs me. “If you’re hungry…”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  We sit on the couch to talk. He beams, clearing his throat proudly before giving me the news.

  “It’s finished,” he says. “It’s all been cleared up as of late this morning.”

  “What has?” I ask, confused.

  “The war between the Rolling Heads and the Hell-Snakes is done,” says Damon. “Tom Wright is being held by police until further notice, and the club is being investigated for a shitload of reasons.”

  “Are you serious?” My eyes are wider than dinner plates.

  “I’m absolutely serious,” he confirms. “It’s done. The cops traced the arson back to Wright’s second-in-command. He started the fire, and the police are done sticking their noses in our business. We’re free!”

  I hear him, but the words don’t seem to be fully sinking in. It sounds too good to be true, but I know it’s real.

  “So… the cops aren’t investigating you anymore?” I ask timidly.

  “Nope. The cops know it was all them for a fact.”

  “I can’t believe someone would burn down their own building like that,” I say with a literal sigh of relief.

  “You’d be surprised. They were already in a lot of trouble for some other stuff. They were either going to burn us all alive and flee town or watch us live and try to sue us out of town. Now those shitheads are never going to bother us ever again.”

  “This sounds too easy,” I say, unable to contain my smile. “Are we really okay…? Just like that?”

  “Just like that,” he concurs. “We don’t have anything to worry about.”

  He reaches out and takes my hands. His touch is so genuine and warm.

  “How about it?” Damon asks. “Will you give me a chance? Will you give us a chance?”