Deflected (Texas Mutiny Book 4)

by M. E. Carter

  “I won’t say it.” She tosses the phone down and picks up her scissors. “But promise me you’ll start watching for your period.”

  “I will, but Quincy, I’ve been on the shot for a long time, and I’ve never had a problem before. This is just a coincidence.”

  “I know. But Rowen waited to be sexually active for a long time. There’s no telling how strong his swimmers are, being dormant for so many years.”

  That one makes me chuckle. It would totally be my luck that Rowen has super strong swimmers that can get past even the heaviest of birth control.

  “How about this?” I offer. “If I don’t get my period by Monday, I’ll go out and waste a bunch of money buying a test that will say I’m not pregnant, okay?”

  “Okay,” she says finally appeased. “And you’ll let me know on Monday.”

  “I will let you know on Monday.”

  I’m lying. I know I am. I will never admit that I already had my suspicions, but I was trying to ignore them. Now that Quincy has forced me to really think about it, I’m not waiting until Monday to buy a test. I’m doing it on my way to work.

  Rubbing my face, I look around the room trying to get my bearings straight. Something woke me up and, judging by the sound of Tiffany coming around the corner, I assume it was her closing the front door.

  “Hey, babe,” I say, as I sit up, leaning against the arm of the couch. “How was work?”

  She drops her bag next to the couch, shoes already gone. She’s so tiny compared to me that she’s able to squeeze herself between my legs and the back of the couch, and I’m still not close to falling off the edge. Somehow, her feet end up on my lap, so I begin digging my thumb into her arches.

  She groans in pleasure. “How did you know I was going to need my feet rubbed tonight?”

  “Lucky guess,” I shrug. “Your hair looks nice.”

  “Thanks. Quincy added highlights.”

  “They look good. How was work?”

  “Same as always. I take it you didn’t watch the show?”

  I flinch. When she’s at work, I try to watch the sports segment. She watches all my games, why wouldn’t I support her the same way? “I’m sorry, babe. I fell asleep at some point. These two-a-days are killing me.”

  “You’re an old man, now, Rookie. Trying to keep up with those whipper-snappers.”

  “Or, I’m trying to keep up with my wife’s insatiable sexual appetite, and I’m not getting enough sleep.”

  A weird look crosses her face. I can’t quite figure out what it is, but after this long together, I know she’s got something on her mind. Something big.

  “Yeah. That’s probably it.” She turns to face the TV, attention diverted to the magical fairy covered in blood on the screen. “What are you watching, anyway?”

  “FaceOff. Have you ever seen it?”

  She shakes her head but doesn’t look at me.

  “It’s really cool. It’s this competition show on Syfy where all these prosthetic makeup artists and designers create new characters every week. They’re really good. I just watched one of the models do a back flip in front of the judges, while in full costume. It’s unreal.”

  We watch for a little bit in silence, me still massaging her feet.

  “What do they win?” she asks, as the show takes a commercial break.

  “I don’t know yet,” I admit. “I haven’t gotten through the first season.”

  “How many seasons are there?”

  “Like eighteen or something.”

  “Eighteen?” She guffaws. “You’re never gonna see my show again.”

  I love watching her laugh. She has the best smile. “I will too. I might turn this right back on as soon as the sports segment is over.”

  She goes back to watching the show, and I go back to watching her. She’s looking at the television, but I can tell she’s not really seeing it. Her eyes are too glazed, and she’s worrying her lip. Something is definitely up.

  I nudge her with my foot. “Hey.” She ignores me, so I try again. “Hey. What’s going on with you.”

  She takes a deep breath and drops her head to the back of the couch. “We’re just so young, ya know?”

  I cock my head. That’s a really strange way to start a conversation. But she’s not done.

  “And we have all these plans. What if you get traded out of state? What if I get picked up nationally?”

  Now my heart is pounding. Something very wrong, and she’s starting to freak me out.

  “There are just so many unknowns…”

  Quickly, I move from the couch to the coffee table in front of her, grabbing her hands. “Tiff…” I try to interrupt, but she keeps babbling.

  “This is not what we signed up for. Not what we wanted…”

  “Tiff…” I try again.

  “I don’t see how this is going to work…”

  “Tiffany,” I say forcefully. She finally looks at me, the crinkle between her brows a dead giveaway that whatever she’s about to tell me is really bad. “Are we okay?”

  She looks sad and scared. “I don’t know.”

  My heart drops and my blood runs icy through my veins. “Why?” I watch as she looks back and forth across my face, considering her next words carefully. After what feels like forever, she sighs, releases my hands and reaches down to dig through her bag.

  When she straightens up, she puts a white stick in my hands. “I’m pregnant.”

  Leaning my elbow on my knee, I cover my mouth and stare at the two pink lines that just changed my life forever. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. All I know is I have a whole lot of mixed emotions.

  “Yer pregnant.”

  Tiffany nods sadly, waiting for me to respond to the bomb she just dropped. “Say something,” she pleads, putting her hand on my knee.

  I clear my throat of the emotion before speaking. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “I’m sorry, Rowen. I know this is terrible timing…”

  My eyes whip up to hers. “Ye think I’m upset?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  “Tiffany, I’m so excited, I can’t find words to adequately express how I feel.” Putting the test next to me, I pull her onto my lap, her legs straddling me. Instinctively, her arms go around my neck. “I know ye think we’re too young and all that. But babe, it’s not about what timing is good for us. It’s about him.”

  “Him, huh?” She smiles, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Or her. My point is, there’s a reason this baby is coming into the world unexpectedly. Our job is to raise him or her and guide him until he figures out the reason it has to be now.”

  Tiffany looks at me, her face more relaxed than it was just a few minutes ago. She leans in and when our lips connect, the frenzy begins. I love nothing more than kissing my wife. But now that I know she’s carrying my child, my child, our child, I want nothing more than to be tangled up with her forever.

  “Holy shit. I’m gonna be a Dadaí,” I say reverently when we break apart to catch our breath. She rubs her hand down my cheek and scratches gently at my scruff.

  “I love you, Rowen.”

  “I love you too.” I look down at my hand that has somehow made its way down to her hip, my thumb caressing her still flat stomach. “And I love you too, A Leanbh.”

  Reaching up, I kiss Tiffany again, this time slowly and with all the feelings running through me now. This moment right here is the single best moment of my life. Knowing that it will pale in comparison to what’s coming in the next few months is surreal.

  “Tiff,” I break away again and pull back to look at her. “Um… can we do something?”

  She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Is it something kinky?”

  I smack her ass playfully and pick her up to drop her back on the couch. “Dirty girl. No. I wanna call my parents.”

  “What? You realize it’s after midnight in Detroit, right?”

  “You realize my mam would kill me if I didn’t tell her right away, don�
��t you?”

  “Touché. But why call them when you can just FaceTime?”

  “Good idea.” I grab for my laptop on the end table and switch it on.

  “I was being sarcastic.”

  “I know. But it was still a good idea.” The computer whirs to life, and I begin pulling up the contact information. “Man, I wish I knew how to record FaceTime calls. I bet this is one I’m gonna want to watch again tomorrow.”

  I settle in next to Tiffany and she rests her head on my shoulder, as the call goes through. Within seconds, my mother’s face pops up on the screen, concern etched all over her face. She’s obviously in bed, reading glasses on, the glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the screen.

  “Rowen? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, Mam.” I can feel how big I’m grinning. She’s liable to think I’m drunk if I smile any wider. “We just needed to talk to ye. Did I wake you up?”

  “No, I’m just reading.” She nudges my father, trying to rouse him awake. “You know what a night owl I am. Hi, Tiffany. Are you okay, dear?”

  Tiffany nods and sits up a little straighter. “I am. Still a little sluggish, but better.”

  “Good.” Mam nudges my dad a little harder. “Ryan, honey, wake up.”

  He grunts and shifts in bed but doesn’t move other than that.

  “Ryan!” She’s full on pushing him now. Tiffany buries her face in the crook of my neck as she and I try hard not to laugh, but the scene is pretty humorous. Eventually Da rolls over and notices us.

  “Rowen? What the fuck, boyo? Someone better be knocking on death’s door, or I’m gonna lob ye one next time ye visit.”

  “Nice to see you too, Da.” He grunts and sits up against the headboard, causing the sheet to fall down a little too much. Tiffany’s hand claps over her eyes and I immediately try to cover up the screen. “Ah! Da! Cover yerself, man! My wife is right here!”

  “Don’t wake me up at the bewitching hour if ye don’t want yer woman to get an eyeful,” he retorts, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

  I’ve gotta give it to my dad. He’s still in fantastic shape for his age. I can only hope those genetics passed down to me.

  “Well we need to talk to ye, and it couldn’t wait.”

  “Is everything okay, Rowen?” my mam asks. “You sound upset.”

  I look at Tiffany and smile. “Not upset, Mam.”

  “Then what?”

  Tiffany shrugs. “Don’t look at me. It was your idea to call them in the middle of the night.”

  Taking a deep breath, I look back at the screen and hold up the pregnancy test for my parents to see. Mam gasps, her hand covering her mouth.

  Da groans.

  “What is that?” He squints his eyes to see better. “A pen?” The sheets rustle around as he starts to lie back down. “Ye wake me up from a sexy dream about your mam to show me some sort of fancy team swag?” Mam smacks his leg gently to get his attention, but he’s too determined to get comfortable to notice. “Send me a box of em in the mail tomorrow. I’m going back to sleep.”

  Tiffany has given up the fight and is now holding her belly, side probably in stitches.

  “Ryan.” Mam is still smacking him, but it’s getting less gentle as he ignores her. “Ryan! That’s not a fancy pen! That’s a pregnancy test!”

  Tiffany waves her hands in front of her eyes and tries to get her breathing under control, so she can stop giggling. Tears are running down her face from laughing. I’m smiling so wide, I must look like a damn fool. And Da looks back over his shoulder, suddenly wide awake.

  This. This right here is why I wish I knew how to record FaceTime calls. A stubborn Irish man’s got nothing on a woman who just found out she’s going to be a Maimeó.

  It takes a few seconds for him to roll over. I’m still holding the test, but I’ve moved it a little closer to the camera where they can see. Da leans forward and squints. Mam is smiling and wiping tears off her cheeks behind him.

  “Well, what the hell do the pink lines mean?” he asks, completely stumped as to what’s happening.

  And Tiffany loses it again. She’s laughing so hard, she’s not making a sound. I drop my head to my chest as my whole body feels like it’s convulsing from this shitshow. Somehow, we end up leaning into each other as we just keep laughing… at my dad. At the ridiculousness of the situation. At the overwhelming joy we didn’t even know was missing until now.

  I can hear my mother in the background explaining what two pink lines means, but I’m not paying much attention. I’m too busy enjoying this moment.

  Suddenly, the emotion begins to overwhelm me. I drop my head to my chest, squeezing the bridge of my nose and grasping for Tiffany. Our right hands intertwine, and she starts rubbing my back with her other hand. She just knows I’m going to crack soon.

  I’ve never been so happy. So scared. So peaceful. So frantic. And it’s all happening at once. It’s overwhelming in the best way imaginable.

  “Look at me, Mack,” Da orders. I look up, expecting for him to poke fun at me for getting emotional. His words surprise me instead. “The proudest day of me life was when you were born. I cried like a babaí as soon as they put you in me arms. Ask yer mam. Having so much love for yer child… those are the manliest tears you can ever have.”

  I take a deep breath and rub my face. “I just can’t believe I’m gonna be a Dadaí.” More sniffing. More blinking tears away.

  “Congrats, Mack. Ye make me proud.”

  Tiffany and my mom chat a while longer about her symptoms and what Mam’s pregnancy with me was like. Before I know it, we’ve been talking for over an hour.

  “Mo grá,” Da says to my mam as I yawn. “We need to let them go te bed. Rowen may have gotten her knocked up, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to not practice in the morn.”

  I chuckle, and my mam rolls her eyes. “All right, all right. I’m glad you let us know, though. I know I can’t share it yet, but I can’t wait to start shopping for baby clothes!”

  Tiffany stiffens slightly, not enough for them to see, but enough for me to notice. “Why don’t you wait a few more months, Denise? We’ve got lots of time.”

  “So you think,” Mam responds. “It’ll fly by before you know it.”

  We say our goodbyes and end the call, me taking Tiffany’s hand in mine and kissing her palm. “You know she’s going to start shopping tomorrow.”

  “I know.” Tiff leans her head on my shoulder. “I’m really tired. Can we go to bed now?”

  I stand up and pull her to her feet, pecking her on the lips. “Am I gonna get some tonight?”

  She holds up her finger. “On one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  Her hand drops to her stomach and she begins to rub. The look on her face tells me she’s not tired anymore. She’s playful. I like it. “We don’t want to squish the baby. I need to be on top.”

  My eyes widen and my dick twitches. “Done.”

  She giggles as I drag her behind me, heading back into our bubble, now expanded by one.

  The gynecologist office is not my idea of a good time. But I’m pretty sure that’s a given for anybody. The room is always too cold. The flimsy gowns are always too small. And there’s no way to hide your butt crack from anyone who opens the door.

  Plus, I hate the crinkly paper on the exam table. For whatever reason, the sound is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Thankfully, I’m sitting on one of those puppy pad things, so I don’t feel the paper on my naked ass too.

  Rowen, of course, is sitting in the one chair that fits in the room, the lucky bastard, while I sit as still as I can trying not to move the crinkly paper. It’s making my back hurt, but I’ll take the lesser of two evils.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, long legs stretched out across the floor.

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “You look really nervous.” I shoot him a puzzled look. “You’re completely stiff.”

  “Oh. That. I’m trying not to make the p
aper move.”

  “Why?”

  “I hate the way it sounds. It grates on my nerves and makes me want to stab my ear drums out.”

  He smiles in amusement. “That’s some serious hate.”

  “I know. I’m trying not to breathe very hard, so it doesn’t move.”

  Suddenly, he stands up and begins ripping the paper off the table.

  “What are you doing?” I look around frantically, like someone is going to see him and kick us out.

  “What does it look like?” He wads up the offending paper and tosses it in the trash. “There. Problem solved.”

  “You can’t just do that, Rowen. What if, what if… I don’t know, what if that was important or something.”

  “Babe. It’s not going to hurt anything. They only use the paper to protect the tables from wear and tear.”

  “That’s not true. It’s for germ control.”

  He quirks an eyebrow at me. “You think paper so thin that it tears on contact is protecting you from germs?”

  “I… well…” He makes a good point, actually. “How do you know this anyway?”

  His cheeks immediately flush. “I just know.”

  Now I know he’s lying. “No way. You’re not getting off that easy. Seriously. How do you know?”

  He sighs and shoots me a playful grin. “Fine. There was a contestant on FaceOff who happened to be a medical assistant by trade. It came up during one of their weird hospital-themed challenges.”

  “Ohmygod, that’s funny,” I giggle, trying really hard not to move the paper that’s still under my butt, to no avail. I grimace when it crinkles again.

  Rowen immediately stands up, takes the two steps to reach me and taps my leg. “Up.” As soon as my naked feet hit the step, he snatches the paper, leaving the puppy pad in place. “Okay, you can sit,” he says as he gooses my breast, making me shriek.

  “Rowen!” I swat at him. He just laughs, the asshole. “Quit it!”

  “Oh, give me a break. You’re pregnant. Everyone in this office knows how that happened.”

  I roll my eyes and settle back onto the table, much more comfortable now that the damn paper is gone. My thoughts wander back to the previous conversation and I snort a laugh. “I still can’t believe you got all your medical knowledge from the Syfy channel.”