Together
A Surprise Pregnancy Romance
Jennifer Van Wyk
Together
Copyright © 2021 Jennifer Van Wyk
ISBN-10:
ISBN-13: 9798710844069
Cover Designer: Qamber Designs and Media/Najla Qamber Designs
Cover Photography: Stock photography from Stocksy.com
Editing and proofreading services by: Julie Deaton and Kaitie Reister
Copyright © Jennifer Van Wyk 2021
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and event are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation. Please be respectful of the author’s work.
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Dedication
I said I wasn’t going back to my family in Liberty, Michigan but I lied. I can’t help it. I love where it all began. This book is dedicated to all of you who’ve been with me from the beginning. Thanks for going on this ride with me.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
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Chapter One
Nikolas
The one and a half carat solitaire diamond set in platinum spins around the tip of my finger as I continue to flick it around and around. What a disaster tonight turned out to be. Stopping the ring, I stare at the diamond and shake my head. “Shit,” I mumble as I shove it into my jeans pocket and take a pull from my whiskey and wince. I really shouldn’t have ordered it but beer didn’t seem quite strong enough after the night I had.
If I’d have expected anything but hearing the word yes, and with a whole lot of enthusiasm, might I add, I would never have gone through with that crazy proposal I spent weeks planning.
I get the bartender’s attention and motion for another. I don’t have him cut it with Coke or water or even ice. What’s the point in that when all I really want to do is forget the last three years ever happened? Maybe if I just have him leave the bottle I’ll accomplish my goal.
“Vodka cranberry, hold the cranberry, please,” a quiet voice says beside me.
If she wants to get served, she’s going to have to speak up louder than that.
When my drink is served, I take a healthy gulp, noticing out of the corner of my eye that the dark-haired woman next to me still hasn’t been heard, even though she’s repeated it again.
“And a vodka for her,” I tell him, motioning toward my neighbor to my right with my thumb. “Anything to cut that with?” I ask her even though she already said just a vodka.
With a scowl aimed at the bartender for not noticing her, she shakes her head. “No. Just a vodka.”
“A shot then?” I ask for clarification.
“No. Larger.”
I widen my eyes and look to the bartender who appears slightly amused by her lack of words but that she knows what she wants.
He shrugs and quickly gets to work, places her straight up vodka in front of her and she tips it back, draining the clear liquid from the lowball glass and slamming it onto the shiny surface, spinning her finger around indicating she would like another. Because I’m staring at her — zero shame there because she’s kind of entertaining — I don’t miss the gag that follows or the little cough from the burn of the harsh liquid.
I glance to the bartender and he raises an eyebrow at me as if I’m the deciding factor here.
“She’s not mine.” I let him know, not to be a dick, but I’m not her keeper and by the looks of it, she doesn’t want some stranger making decisions for her.
“I’m no one’s,” she growls angrily. Oh, so now she finds her voice. Though, I gotta say, it’s a pretty adorable voice. She might be trying to sound angry, but it’s not really working out that way.
He pours another two fingers into her glass and it’s barely on the counter in front of her before she chugs it down.
This time the cough is a little more dramatic, complete with pounding on her chest with her fist and a “blech” escaping her throat when she sticks her tongue out. She completes the experience by shuddering.
I chuckle next to her and the bartender hands her a glass of iced water, sliding it across the bar top with one finger. His not-so-subtle suggestion doesn’t get his head bit off, only a grateful smile aimed his way.
She takes a sip and I do the same with my whiskey.
“Another?” the bartender asks skeptically, seemingly not wanting her to continue to get herself hammered, thus making him liable for over serving her. However, she’s not showing signs of being drunk by any means so maybe it’s not at that point yet.
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, curious if she’s going to keep putting the alcohol down quickly.
“Yeah. Please. Maybe something different, though? I mean, stick with vodka because I don’t want to get sick from switching it up but maybe add like lemonade or whatever so it’s not so strong?”
I notice his lips twitch and have to bite back my own laugh. “Sure thing.”
He gets to work on her drink, her eyes never straying from his actions. When he’s finished, he hands her a glass filled with a light pink concoction that she happily takes a sip of.
“Oh my gosh,” she moans. “Mmm. That’s delicious.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you! I could have a million of these.”
“Watch it,” he tells her. “They’ll knock you on your ass if you’re not careful.”
“Oh! I need to pay you! How much?”
He totals up her three drinks and she hands him some cash, telling him to keep the change. Then she spins around and looks out at the small crowd, sipping away at her drink at an alarming pace.
“You good?” the bartender asks me, but instead the woman who’s now dancing in her place turns her head, lifts her glass, and replies with a cheerful, “Yup! I’m super good now, thanks for the drink!”
His eyes go wide and he barks out a laugh before he gives her an okay symbol by making a circle out of his thumb and pointer finger.
“And you, my man?”
I look at my glass, polish it off, and hand it back empty. “With Coke, please.”
He nods and takes my empty glass, putting it under the bar. “Comin’ right up.”
He makes quick work of pouring whiskey, Coke, and ice into a glass and hands it over to me. New drink in hand, I pay for my tab and stand up, planning to move to a table. “Thanks, man.”
&nbs
p; “Welcome. Let me know if you need another.”
I raise my glass to him. “Thanks. I will.”
“Let me know or you’ll need another?” he asks with a knowing smirk.
“Both.”
“Figured.” He looks around to make sure no one else is waiting for a drink and then leans his elbows on the bar. “Advice even though you didn’t ask?” I shrug and he continues. “Shake her off. Whoever she is, or he, not worth the time, my man.”
“What makes you sure that it’s about a woman?”
He gives me a look and spreads out his arms, like standing behind a bar is all the answer he needs to give. Suppose he’s got a point there.
“You seem to be so sure that she’s not worth it.”
“Anyone who puts that look on your face isn’t worth it.”
“Experience?” I guess.
He confirms with a tip of an imaginary hat toward me and stands straight, turning to help his next customer.
I find a table easily and moments after I take a seat, a waitress stops by with a bowl of peanuts in the shell. “I see you have a drink. You decide to stay for dinner, too?”
“Maybe just some boneless wings.”
“Perfect. Sauce?”
“I’m boring. Regular old buffalo is perfect. Ranch for dipping.”
“Nothing boring about a classic.”
“Did you just give me a line from Bed of Roses?”
Her mouth drops open and she looks at me stunned. “Holy crap! You know that movie?”
“Oh yeah. My sister made me watch it repeatedly one Christmas break.”
“I like your sister. She sounds like an awesome human,” she says, laughing. “I’ll put that order in. Need a water, too? Another drink?”
“Nah. I just got this one so I’m good for a bit, but maybe a water would be good, too.”
“You got it,” she says with a smile before walking away.
From my place at the table, I stare down at my whiskey and Coke, slowly wiping the condensation from the side with the back of my finger.
How the hell did I get here? I was supposed to be celebrating with a new fiancée tonight. Instead I’m nursing a broken heart over what’s surely going to end up being too much booze. What signs did I miss?
Two nights ago, she spent the night at my place and gave no indication that it would be the last time she did so. If she was subtly telling me that she was about to break things off, I clearly missed it. Now I’m glad she and I didn’t have sex. I also understand why the too tired excuse was used.
I pull out a couple of peanuts and crack the shells, dropping them in the empty bowl and the peanuts into my mouth. I crunch away and crack a few more.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I know exactly who it is without even looking. My sister. She knew I was going to propose tonight and I’m sure she’s wondering why I haven’t been sending her pictures of Stacia proudly displaying the ring I gave her. Or, tried to give her.
That’s one thing to be grateful for, I guess. I didn’t lose my grandmother’s ring. Holy shit, my mother would roll over in her grave, slap my dad from his grave next to hers to make sure he was aware of what happened, then rail into me for a month if I’d have given our family heirloom to a woman who wasn’t deserving of it.
But how did I miss that Stacia wasn’t the one? I thought she was happy and we were on the same path.
“I’m sorry, Nikolas. I just… can’t.”
I rise from my knee and stand before her, ring tucked securely in my pocket. I never did take it out. She never got a look at it.
“What do you mean, you can’t?” I know my voice sounds incredulous. I’m shocked, though.
“Exactly that. I can’t marry you. I thought you knew I never wanted to be married.”
“What? Of course you do! We’ve talked about it.”
“No. You’ve talked about it. I listened. I never once agreed.”
This time, my voice is low when I ask, “Okay, then, why didn’t you say that you didn’t want that when I was talking about getting married?”
She shrugs.
Shrugs.
That’s it.
“I can’t believe you. All this time we’ve been together you never mentioned not wanting to be married.”
“But did I ever say I wanted to?”
I want to scream in frustration. I feel like I’m arguing with a teenager right now and rather than continue, I spin on my heel and storm back to my pickup, leaving her standing in her place. When I climb behind the wheel, I slam the door on her calling out my name, wondering how she’s going to get home. I should feel guilty. But I don’t.
Hell, it’s not as if we live in the dark ages or even the 80s, for fuck’s sakes. She’s able to use her phone and call someone to get her home.
Right now, I need a drink.
Well, at least I got what I needed, even if I didn’t get what I wanted tonight.
The more I think about it, though, her reaction to my proposal gives me peace. I’m thankful she said no. Well, mostly. Of course, I’m upset. I wouldn’t have asked her if I didn’t want her to say yes, but obviously my instincts weren’t working correctly.
I take another drink of my whiskey and Coke and crunch on a chunk of ice and sit back, craning my neck so I can watch the TV in the corner. Surprisingly, it’s not a game, but rather a show I have just recently started watching about these guys who hunt for ghosts. Even with it being a show that I genuinely enjoy, it doesn’t hold my interest.
My mind is reeling, trying to figure out where it all went wrong for me today. When my phone rings again, I lift it to my ear, wanting to get it over with. I figured we’d be spending the holidays together with my ring on her finger. Proposing over Thanksgiving weekend was supposed to be the perfect timing.
“She said no,” I tell Josie. Silence greets me on the other end and I look at the screen to make sure the call is still connected. “Josie?”
“I’m here. What’d you say?”
“You heard me the first time and I’m not really in the mood to say it again.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us.”
“She really said no? Are you sure you did it right?”
I take a deep breath and roll my eyes. “How would I have done it wrong, Jose? I was on one knee, asked her to marry me, she looked right at me and said no.”
“But… she loves you.”
I grunt. “Apparently not. Or at least not enough.”
“She’s wrong.”
I sigh and lean back in my seat, throwing back another big swig of my whiskey and Coke. “Pretty sure she knew what she was doing when she turned me down. Said she’d never wanted to get married or have kids. Said that since that’s what I wanted, it was time to move on because she didn’t think it was fair to me.”
“You mean, it’s not fair to her to be saddled with a family guy,” she grouses.
“Right,” I grunt. “It’s not like I wanted to keep her barefoot and pregnant or anything like that. I wanted to marry her.”
Josie’s quiet for a few moments before asking quietly, “But can you honestly say that you would have been okay with not having children? Or being married to someone who didn’t want the same?” I open my mouth to respond but she isn’t waiting for it. “As much as I hate to admit it, she was probably right in declining your proposal. I hate that you’re hurting, but would have hated it even more if you’d have been stuck in an unhappy marriage.”
I sigh, knowing she’s right but cranky about it. “Yeah.”
“You know I’m right,” she answers softly.
“Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”
“Well, duh. Of course not. But here’s the deal, I think in the end you’ll see this as a good thing.”
“You called me excited thinking that I was engaged to the girl and now you think it’s a good thing?”
“Well… maybe I’m seeing the good parts of it quicker than you.”
I grunt. “Clearly.”
“Niko, listen to me. It hurts and that’s okay. It should. I know, you love Stacia and felt like she was the one but I want you to imagine your life in five years and tell me what you see. I mean, sure you can be together for life without being married. People do it all the time. When that’s what they both want. But, I feel like there’s a difference between wanting to be married to someone and wanting to make it official just hoping that it means they’ll stick around forever. You’ll be worried for life that she’ll leave or cheat or something because she doesn’t actually feel like you’re tied together. If you can honestly say that you would be okay with the life that Stacia wants, then hang up with me and go back to her.”
I sit quietly for a moment then grumble, “Sometimes I hate how logical you are.”
“Right?” I have no doubt that she’s shimmying in her seat right now, pleased that she’s set me straight.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I drain the last of my whiskey and Coke. My waitress stops with my wings and places them in front of me.
“Need another?” she asks, pointing to my now empty glass.
I think for only a second before answering. “Yes. Thanks.”
“Not a problem. Oh! Sorry, I forgot your water. I’ll be right back with it and your drink.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you out to eat or something?” Josie asks through the phone.
“Didn’t want to go home,” I mumble.
“Understandable. Niko, can I ask you a question and you promise that you won’t bite my head off for it?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m going to ask anyway.” I almost laugh because I knew that’s what she would say. “Why didn’t she break up with you?”
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