Together: A Surprise Pregnancy Romance

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  I cross my arms and lean my elbows on the table. Rude, maybe, but Harry doesn’t seem bothered. “I think there’s more to that logic.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Doesn’t sound like you trusted her very much.”

  He stares at me and scrunches his eyebrows before looking away. Our waitress delivers his beer and I decide to go ahead and order another. Once she’s gone, he says to me while looking away, “Guess I didn’t.”

  “Trust her?”

  “Yeah. You’re right that there’s nothing wrong with being partners for life and never getting married.”

  “Not exactly what I said. I tend to agree with you. If I ever fall in love again and he’s my forever guy, I want the marriage. But there’s a difference between wanting to be married to someone and wanting to make it official to tie someone to me.”

  His jaw drops and his posture stiffens. “What?”

  “Sorry. Did I say something offensive? Sometimes I do that and don’t realize it at the time. I have no filter.”

  “No. It’s just that my sister said something almost exactly the same. Almost word for word, actually.”

  “It sounds like your sister’s brilliant.”

  He chuckles. A deep gruff sound that sends a ripple down my spine.

  “If you don’t mind, I won’t tell her you said that. She has a big enough head as it is.” His smile is crooked, sending another ripple. He thanks our waitress who brings by my beer. Neither of us need more alcohol at this point, but we have plenty of food yet and I’m hoping it will soak up some of the alcohol.

  I reach for some more fries and place them on my plate. “I wouldn’t know any different,” I remind him, then add on, “if you tell her or not, you know? Chances of us seeing each other after tonight are pretty slim.”

  “You don’t live around here?” he asks and sees my hesitation in answering him. I’m sharing a meal and drinks with the guy but we’re in public. “Don’t answer that. That’s not my business.”

  I start on my new beer, having lost count how many drinks I’ve now consumed. I’m feeling perfectly buzzed, but not drunk so I figure I’m good to keep drinking. Though, I do need to pee. Quite badly. “No. It’s fine. I actually just moved to town two months ago.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t move for your ex.”

  “No. Thank goodness. My move here might have actually been what spurred the breakup, actually.”

  “Wrong. The move happened because you needed a good orgasm that wasn’t brought on by your own hand or a toy.”

  I snort out a laugh, spitting and sputtering all over. Some beer dribbles down my chin. I’m such a mess.

  “You’re a mess,” he says, teasingly. I look up to see his bright white teeth gleaming at me from his bright smile and his dark eyes twinkling. “Wanna play darts?”

  “You think it’s a good idea to throw sharp pointed objects right now?”

  “They’re the ones with the magnets on the ends.”

  “They make that sort of thing?”

  “Apparently. Good thing, too. Come on. Let’s burn off some of this food.”

  I look around the room to see how busy it is in the bar. Admittedly, I’m not an overly self-confident person and often struggle with not allowing myself to enjoy life because I don’t want to embarrass myself or the people I’m with. Sometime during my life, I got it in my head that I could only do something if I was perfect at it.

  Harry stands up and extends his hand down to me. “Come on, Sally. Let’s go play some darts. Imagine the board is your ex’s face.” Then, as if he could read my mind earlier, he adds, “It’ll be fun. Who cares who’s watching?”

  Without worrying a second more, I place my hand in his and stand up, dropping my napkin on the table, but not leaving my beer behind. He might not care who’s watching, but a little liquid courage might help me get there, too.

  “Fine,” I grumble but am not really disgruntled at all. “But first, I need to pee.”

  He chuckles. “Sounds good. You realize now you’ll have to keep going all night, though, right?”

  “That reminds me of high school field parties when my friends and I would try not to break the seal.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Break the seal? That’s a term I haven’t heard since high school.”

  I nod, a little embarrassed that I just said that but also not caring. Now that I’m standing up, I realize that I’m drunkity-drunk-drunk-drunk. I stumble a bit, tripping over absolutely nothing but my own two feet and he catches me by the elbow.

  I steady myself by planting my feet on the floor, not moving a step forward. “You good?”

  Nodding, I look up at his handsome face. He really is good looking. I can’t imagine a woman not wanting to look at him for the rest of her life.

  “She must have been blind, right?”

  “Huh?”

  “If she didn’t want to look at me the rest of her life?”

  The look on my face must be one of pure horror realizing I said that out loud. Of course I did. I’m the biggest walking cliché apparently. I just thought something in my head and said it out loud like a goober.

  “I can’t believe I said that.”

  He shrugs and moves to the dart board, grabbing a handful of magnetic darts in his hand. He spins back around and moves to stand in front of me. “It’s okay. If it would make you feel better,” he lifts one of my hands in his and places three darts in my open palm, “I’ll just tell you right now that I think your ex-boyfriend is a total dumbass for letting you go as well. I’d be pretty damn fortunate to look at your face the rest of my life.”

  My heart beats extra fast and I suck in a breath. “Well, that’s… really nice.”

  He shrugs again and he gestures for me to go first. “It’s true.”

  “I have to pee first, remember?”

  “Oh, shit, that’s right. I’ll be here. Think you can make it there without face-planting?”

  “Let’s hope,” I mumble.

  I do my business quickly and wash my hands, stopping at the bar to grab a couple Cokes. When I join Harry, I hand him his drink. “This is only Coke. No booze. Maybe you can handle more but I think I’m done.”

  “Ha! I’d say I’ve had enough, too. Though another beer does sound good.”

  “So have one. I’m not going to tell you what to do.” I wink at him and he chuckles, shaking his head.

  “You’re up first, Sally.”

  Because Sally isn’t even close to my name, I don’t realize he’s talking to me. Instead, I look around the room for Sally. It takes me a few seconds to realize he was talking to me, which is embarrassing but I’m positive he knows that Sally isn’t my name. Just like I know Harry isn’t his. Wouldn’t that be something, though? If two random people met at a bar after our significant others rejected us and our actual names were Harry and Sally? Just like in the movie?

  “Right. That’s me. Sally. That’s my name.”

  “Yup. And I’m Harry.”

  I giggle which turns to a snort and that actually makes sense because I’ve just been on a roll embarrassing myself tonight.

  “Alright, I think it’s good you switched to soda.”

  I wrinkle my nose at him. “Ya think?” I ask sarcastically, tossing a dart at the board and somehow, by the grace of God, hitting it. Not in the center, but still… not bad for my first time.

  “I mean, I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do or anything,” he says, mocking me.

  “Just throw a dart, hot shot.”

  “Hot shot, huh? I like it. Nicknames already. Or is that called a term of endearment?”

  “Just throw the dart already.” I playfully shove his shoulder but he doesn’t budge.

  He does, however, stare at me while throwing the dart at the board and still managing to hit the target. What an ass.

  I gasp and narrow my eyes at him and he grins shamelessly. “All-American on the Boston College Dart Team all four years.”

 
My eyes widen. “That’s a thing?”

  “How the fuck should I know? I was just shitting you. That was just luck.”

  My jaw drops. “You’re a shitbird, you know it?”

  “Shitbird, huh? I think I liked Hot Shot better.”

  “Too bad,” I singsong. “Shitbird it is.” I throw another dart, this one hitting a little closer to the target than the first. “Not bad for my first time playing, huh?” I preen at my own meager success.

  “Not bad at all,” he says, throwing another one and this time watching where it goes. It hits right next to mine. “See? Told you it was just luck.”

  “Now I don’t know if you’re throwing the game or if you actually suck.”

  “Hey!”

  We share a laugh and for the next hour we drink (I long forgot about switching to non-alcoholic drinks) and eat and play darts. We even sing along to the old-fashioned jukebox in the corner of the bar and dance around each other, using beer bottles as microphones.

  By the time the bartender calls for last call, my stomach hurts from laughter, I’m blissfully trashed, my belly is full of greasy bar food, and this crappy day somehow turned into one of the best days of my life.

  We fall out the front door, holding each other up and still laughing as the taxi that the bartender called for us waits along the side of the road with its flashers on.

  Harry opens the door for me and I climb in, sliding across the seat and he follows.

  “Hey, Roy.”

  “Nik.”

  “His name’s Harry.”

  Roy does a double take when he looks back at the two of us. “Tie one on tonight?”

  Harry-Nik lifts his fingers, separating them only a smidge. “Little bit.”

  “Looks like a fun time.”

  He shifts into drive and takes off. “Where am I taking you?”

  “Home,” Harry-Nik mumbles, laying his head back against the seat.

  “You got it,” he says, looking at us through the rearview mirror.

  Harry-Nik settles us comfortably together, his arm thrown over the back and around my shoulders, tucking me in close. I know I need to tell Roy my address but instead, I curl up in the crook of his shoulder and wrap an arm around his waist.

  Next thing I know, I’m being lifted out of a car and carried somewhere in strong arms. It’s cozy and comforting and maybe it’s my level of intoxication, but I’ve never felt more relaxed in my life.

  Until the next morning.

  Chapter Three

  Nikolas

  I wake up feeling like complete shit. My head hurts like I’ve actually been hit by a truck, there’s no way I won’t have the beer shits today, and there’s gotta be cement blocks on my feet weighing me down. It was all fun and games last night — literally — but this morning, I’m having regrets.

  But not about the girl.

  That was fun.

  Spending the evening with her, forgetting and laughing and drinking and eating. Drinking a little more. The darts and singing and dancing. Drinking.

  I groan.

  Too.

  Much.

  Drinking.

  Then a groan that matches mine but is far more feminine sounds next to me and I… oh, shit.

  I’m naked.

  Birthday suit naked.

  Surely we didn’t…

  God, if there was ever a time to give me whiskey dick, please let it be last night.

  I can’t believe I just prayed for God to give me a malfunctioning dick… or that I said dick in my prayers. Or that I’m even praying about drunk sex. All so I didn’t have drunk sex with her. Not that I wouldn’t want to have sex with her, but as drunk as we were? No. No way. I’m better than that. Not that much of an asshole. Right?

  Now I’m lying here overthinking my prayer while naked in my bed with Sally — or Ashley, as it turns out her name really is when we confessed to each other that we aren’t Harry or Sally — who I hope we didn’t have sex with only because I’m still drunk the next morning.

  Fuck… I’m a mess.

  Though, oddly enough, guilt isn’t one of the feelings bubbling to the surface right now.

  Regret that I don’t remember much of it does, though. I just remember her falling asleep to the point where neither Roy or I could wake her up when we arrived at my house and after a few moments of both of us freaking out, I realized she was fine, just an incredibly sound sleeper. If the snoring was anything to go by, anyway.

  Then she woke up abruptly when we got into the house, looked at me with wide eyes that could have only meant one thing, and so I quickly directed her to the guest bathroom so she could throw up the plethora of liquor she had consumed.

  When she emerged she looked at me and said, “I’m sure this may come as a total shock, but my name is Ashley, not Sally.”

  I mock gasped then grinned, told her my name is Nikolas but I go by Nik and she grinned back, then groaned, then we sat on the couch.

  And, apparently, ended up getting naked and into my bed at some point. That’s where things get fuzzy.

  “Did we have sex?” Ashley asks in a quiet voice next to me.

  I don’t even lift my head to look over at her when I respond, “No clue.”

  She shifts a little bit and winces. “We definitely had sex.”

  Part of me, the asshole part, wants to brag that she can still feel me there the next day. But the other part of me wants to search my house for used condoms and apologize for taking advantage of her in her drunken state. Even though I was just as drunk so the same could be said for her, but that’s beside the point.

  “I don’t know if I should apologize or what here,” I admit.

  “Apologize for what?” she asks, sleep still heavy in her voice. In fact, I think she’s asleep again. Who does that? Falls asleep after realizing that she just had sex with practically a stranger? Maybe this is normal for her but it’s way out of my wheel house.

  “Taking advantage of you?” I tell her, but it comes out more as a question.

  She groans again and this time rather than sounding like she’s in pain, she sounds annoyed. “Do not put that on me and don’t act like a martyr. I’m a grown woman and know how to make smart decisions.”

  “But you were drunk.”

  “So were you,” Ashley points out.

  “Yes, but…”

  She sits up, clutching the sheet to her chest and wipes her face, pushing her hair back as she turns to face me. “But what? You’re the man so you’re the one who has to be the mature one? Ugh. I’m so sick of this bullshit.”

  “What bullshit is that?”

  “The bullshit that the media or social media or books or whatever tells women that only the man has to be the one to stop things. That a woman can’t make her own decisions and the man is supposed to be the responsible one. It’s obnoxious. Everyone is all we are women hear us roar but then we get pissed off if the guy doesn’t open our car doors and act like we always have to come first. I mean, how annoying is the double standard, right?”

  “What are you talking about?” I risk asking, because the longer she talks, the louder her voice gets and it’s obvious she’s getting mad. I kind of understand what she means, because Josie is my sister and she’s vocal. She’s also said the same type of thing several different times to me. How she hated commercials and television shows or movies that depicted weak-ass men, her words, not mine, who couldn’t stand up for themselves. I would laugh at her dramatics and she would get mad at me. But back to Ashley, I’m honestly not sure if that’s why she’s getting fired up right now or if it’s something else entirely.

  She flops back against the bed, huffing out a breath.

  “I’m just being bitchy because I feel like crap and I’m a little embarrassed.”

  Chuckling, I lift up on my elbow and look down at her. “Why are you embarrassed?”

  Ashley lifts her head and narrows her eyes at me. “Because I just had sex with a stranger for one? And then I ranted at him for trying to
be nice and make sure that we were okay, even trying to apologize like a decent person because he was afraid that he’d taken advantage of me.” She drops her head back down to the bed. “That’s why.”

  I bark out a laugh then a lot occurs to me. It’s not like I know her all that well, but I obviously know what she’s like when she’s been drinking. And rambling is one of her tells. Though, I suppose she could ramble a lot but something tells me… “Are you still drunk?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Yeah. Me, too,” I admit.

  “Good. Then maybe we’ll both forget everything that I just said.”

  “Nah. I’ll remember. I do wish I’d remember last night, though.”

  “I assure you, I blew your mind. Performed sex acts you have only dreamed of. Only saw in the most insane pornos. I was like an acrobat, twisting and turning. So flexible, my legs…” she squeals as I cut her off, covering her with my body and cradling her head in my hands.

  “Is that so?”

  “Definitely,” she repeats what she said earlier about being drunk, this time smiling at me with a broad, cheesy grin.

  “Maybe you should put your money where your mouth is, then,” I challenge.

  “Maybe,” she challenges right back, raising both eyebrows. By the way she’s squinting one eye, I think she’s trying to just raise one but isn’t quite succeeding at it. It’s adorable as fuck and makes me want to kiss her to jog my memory. “But first,” she says, slipping her arm between us and covering my mouth with her hand, “we brush our teeth.”

  “Good plan,” I mumble behind her hand.

  She smiles and I smile back then I hop off her and walk to the bathroom. It doesn’t occur to me until I’m already out of bed that I’m naked. She gasps. Then giggles. Then snorts much like she did last night before allowing the giggles to take over.

  Shit.

  I try my best to cover my ass but the damage is already done.

  She’s seen it.

  She knows it.