by Nikki Ash
Except in the last nine months.
Sure, I’ve been giving them what they want, someone young and gorgeous on my arm at a movie premiere or courtside at a professional basketball game, but that’s all it is. Smoke and mirrors. Truth be told, I haven’t felt like myself, like partying and dating, since my visit to South Bend.
Guilt.
That’s a big part of it. As much as I’ve tried to ignore what happened all those months ago with Ashtyn, I just haven’t been able to forget it. No amount of scotch or clubbing has dimmed the memory of her, and believe me, I’ve fucking tried. A lot. But she’s there, embedded in my brain so deep I worry she’ll always be there, front and center.
Now, throw in a visit from her brother with very little warning.
I haven’t seen Alex since the morning he woke up and found me in his kitchen with my packed bags sitting by the door. I was supposed to stay through Tuesday, but the moment he came home and found me on the couch, the guilt of what I’d done with his sister started to eat at my soul. I didn’t tell him, of course. I’m not fucking stupid. He’d cut off my dick and probably kill me with it. All I said was she came over and drank too much, so I did the gentlemanly thing and let her crash in the guest room. It’s not that far off from the truth, but I did leave out a pretty big detail.
Not that I’d ever tell him that.
So, I took off, making up some excuse about the trainers wanting me back early to start working on my knee. It was pure bullshit, but I needed out of there, and fast. Especially since Ashtyn was just on the opposite side of the guest bedroom door, naked. I know because when I slipped in to get my personal belongings, I could still see some of her soft, silky skin on full display. Her fair complexion was a stark contradiction against the brown sheet.
Now, Alex is in town. He reached out to me last night, and in a moment of weakness, I agreed to dinner. As long as he doesn’t talk about my last visit or mention his sister, I’m sure it’ll be fine. This will actually be our first time seeing each other or even physically talking since all of our communication has been by text message. It works better that way, truth be told. We’re both busy as hell, and texts work better for both of us. Plus, I’m apparently a big fucking chicken and have been avoiding more communication. But, no dodging it now. He’s here for three days, most likely for work, and staying at the Hilton Hotel not too far from the stadium.
I’m about to face my best friend for the first time since I slept with his twin sister.
Piece of cake.
I chose a cozy steakhouse with quiet, spacious booths where we can visit without being disturbed too much. This place is pretty low-key, which is what I’m counting on tonight. The last thing I want is fans and groupies bothering us while we’re trying to catch up.
I give my name to the hostess, but I can tell by her knowing smile she recognizes me. “Your party has already arrived. Follow me,” she coos, leading me through the restaurant with a little extra swing in her hips, most definitely for my benefit.
Alex is in one of the back booths, typing away on his phone. When we arrive at the table, he throws down his cell, gives me a wide grin, and slides out of the booth. “’Bout time you got here. I had to start without you,” he says, slapping me on the back.
“I’m sure that was a hardship,” I comment, returning his bro hug before slipping onto the booth bench.
“It’s been a long fucking day,” he says, holding up the beer in salute. “I earned this one. And the ones that’ll follow.”
“What can I get you?” the waiter asks, as he stops by our table.
“Same,” I answer, nodding to the brand Alex is drinking. He scurries off to get my beer, so I start browsing the menu, even though I already know what I’m having.
“So, how’ve you been?” he asks, leaning back and getting comfortable in his seat.
“Good. Had to shoot a bunch of videos and photos today for Alive Sports Drinks. Barely had enough time to run home and shower before meeting you.”
Alex shorts a laugh. “Had to shower her off you or she came home and helped?”
My closest friend knows me well. Only, this time, he’s way off base. “Neither,” I reply, as the waiter delivers my beer.
“Are you ready?” he asks, pulling out a pad of paper to take our orders.
“I’ll have the ribeye, medium, with a baked potato and salad with Italian,” Alex says, setting his menu down on the edge of the table.
“I’ll have the same, with steamed vegetables instead of the potato,” I add.
“I’ll get those right in for you,” the waiter says before disappearing to the kitchen.
“So, what’s new?” I ask, taking a drink from my bottle.
“A job, hopefully.”
His words give me pause. I lower my beer bottle and meet his eyes. I can tell he’s serious. There’s a hint of excitement there, along with a touch of nervousness. “Wow, really? I thought you loved it at Notre Dame.”
Alex sighs. “I did. Do, really, but the truth is, I’m the only one there now. I want to be closer to family.”
His confession doesn’t shock me too much. He’s always been close to his parents, who live in Naperville, Illinois, but even closer to his twin sister. Ashtyn. Even in college, he talked to her all the time by text or video chat. She went to Northern Illinois University and rarely visited her brother. I think in the four years we were in South Bend, she came to two football games and maybe a surprise visit for their birthday our senior year. Even though they’re as different as night and day, they’ve always been tight.
“Well, where is this job? Here in St. Louis?” I ask, taking another drink of cold beer.
Alex gives me a cocky grin. “With the Fire.”
A wide smile spreads across my face. “No shit? Who are you interviewing with?” I ask, super excited at the prospect of having him in town to stay.
“Cortland McDaniels. We meet tomorrow at nine,” he boasts.
“Well, I’m pulling for you. The Fire would be lucky to have you,” I tell him, holding up my bottle in a toast.
Alex taps his beer against mine. “Thanks, man. Appreciate it. I’m sure the competition is fierce, so I’m trying not to get my hopes up.” Our food is delivered and two fresh beers follow. “It’d almost be too perfect to get this job, you know? You and Ashtyn are both here, and the idea of seeing you two a little more regularly again is appealing.”
I cut into my steak, but suddenly my knife stops moving. Did he just say… “What?”
Alex looks up from cutting his steak. “I mean, I know you’re busy with that huge social calendar, but surely you can squeeze me in now and again, right?” he asks, laughing.
“I’d love it if you lived here, but I was meaning the other part. About Ashtyn.” Just saying her name has my cock half-hard and wanting to play. I focus on cutting my steak and taking a bite to mask the anticipation and shock that’s surely written all over my face.
“Oh, that’s one of the main reasons I started looking. She could use the help, even if she keeps saying she doesn’t. But I’m sure it’s hard, you know? Raising a baby on your own? In a new city with no family to boot. That’s why I’m here for three days. I get to meet my nephew tomorrow after the interview.”
My mind is spinning. “Wow, uh, a baby, huh?” Why does my throat feel like I swallowed glass? “I didn’t realize she was seeing anyone,” I say casually, moving my vegetables around with my fork. I’m suddenly not hungry at all.
Alex seems pissed as he stabs his steak. “She’s not. At least not someone she’s talking about. She dated this guy before she moved here, but I think they broke up a month or two before. I don’t know who he is, but he better hope I don’t fucking ever find out.”
I’m suddenly pissed right along with him. Not only because some douchebag got Ashtyn pregnant and ditched her, but because she was apparently seeing someone when we slept together. I always thought she was this shy, meek woman with a gorgeous smile, but apparently, there’s
a little more vixen in her than anticipated.
“I was hoping to talk to her about it again while I’m here. She needs help, and if she won’t force that no-dick asshole into anteing up, then I’ll just do it.”
Somehow, we make it through dinner, but I’m not sure how. I have no recollection of actually eating my food, but when I look down, my plate is empty. My mind, on the other hand, is spinning as I try to put together the info shared. Ashtyn had a baby? A boy, apparently. And to top it off, she’s living in St. Louis. For the last however many months, she’s been here, and I didn’t even know it.
Wait…
Nine months?
I mentally do the math. My knee injury was last August. It’s now early June. Nine and a half months ago…
“Holy shit,” I gasp, my heart pounding like a jackhammer.
“I know,” Alex agrees, not even noticing I’m a second away from a full-blown heart attack. “It’s a mess, but look at this. This makes it better,” he says, pulling his phone out, moving his fingers across the screen, and holds it out for me to see.
There, in the middle of the screen, is Ashtyn, looking a little frazzled and a whole lot of exhausted. But the smile on her face is one of pure elation and love. As if everything she just went through was completely worth it. His face is wrinkled and red, and a little blue and pink striped cap covers the top of his head. The baby has chubby cheeks, but it’s his chin that catches my attention. There in the middle is a dimple.
Like mine.
“…born a little over two weeks ago. My parents came and stayed with her the first week, but then left,” he says, taking the phone back and sliding it into his pocket.
“I’d like to go,” I find myself saying. Alex looks surprised. “I mean, it would be good for her to know she has another friend here, right? I’m surprised she didn’t reach out to me.” Very surprised, actually. And if my suspicions are correct, I’m pissed as fuck about that. But I’m not going to assume a chin dimple means anything.
Even if the timeline is a little fishy.
“Okay, I’m sure she’d be fine with a visitor,” he replies with a shrug.
When the waiter delivers our check and collects the empty plates, I’m quicker than Alex. “I got it.”
“No way,” he argues, reaching for the folder.
I slip my card inside and hand it over. “Consider it a good luck gift for tomorrow, but something tells me, you don’t need luck. That job is as good as yours.”
He grins. “Well, I appreciate it.”
As we head out, a few patrons recognize me, but I keep my head down and make my way to the front door. The hostess thanks me for dining tonight, slipping something in my hand, which I’m a thousand percent certain is her phone number. I stick it in my pocket and push through the door, stopping outside the door. “So, tomorrow?”
“Oh, uh, do you want to meet me at my hotel and hop in with me, or—”
“Why don’t I follow you there?” I interrupt. “This way, if you want to stay longer, you don’t have to worry about taking me home.”
“Makes sense,” Alex agrees, stepping in and giving me a one-arm, back slap hug. “My interview is at nine. I was gonna head over around eleven, grabbing her some lunch on the way.”
“I’ll be there,” I tell him, turning toward the parking lot where my car is.
I have way more questions than answers, and there’s only one woman who can give me what I need. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll know what the hell is going on, and if that baby is mine, why the hell she hasn’t told me about it.
Chapter Two
Ashtyn
Quiet.
I take my cup of coffee to my home library, gingerly sitting down in my favorite wingback chair. Rowan just went down with a full belly and a clean diaper, and now is the one time I allow myself to indulge in a single cup of black coffee. A shower can wait. Breakfast too. Nothing comes before this small cup of dark roast Moroccan coffee.
Except for Rowan.
And maybe sleep.
Since I was able to snatch a solid three hours of sleep before Rowan woke up again, just before five, it felt like the perfect time to get up and moving. Today’s a big day. My brother is coming for a visit after his interview with the St. Louis Fire. I’m excited to see him and for him to meet his nephew for the first time. Video chats aren’t the same as in-person visits, and this’ll be the first one I’ve had with him since I went home for Christmas and shared my big news. It was great having my parents here last week, but there’s this unmatchable bond I share with Alex. He’s not only my brother but one of my best friends.
And he’s going to be here in a few hours.
I sigh and glance out at the quiet neighborhood surrounding me. When I first moved here, I was in a two-bedroom apartment within walking distance of the library where I work. Just after the new year, one of the regular patrons at the library mentioned she was packing up and selling her parents’ house. Even though the apartment would have been comfortable for me and a baby, I went ahead and took her up on the offer to check it out. It’s an older three-bedroom and one-bath ranch-style home in need of a little TLC and updating, but when I saw it, I fell in love. A little paint on all the walls and some area rugs to cover the old marred hardwood floors, and it’s the perfect starter home for us.
If only I could figure out how to keep the shower nozzle from falling off.
I take another sip of coffee and watch as the world starts to wake up. Speaking of waking up, my mind goes to Alex and his interview. Is it too early to shoot him off a good luck text? Just because I’m up and moving by six doesn’t mean he is. If anything, he might be sleeping in, enjoying his downtime. Or he could be fretting above the interview over a pot of coffee and a bagel.
It could go either way.
I offered for him to stay with me when he arrived the night before, but he had plans. Dinner. With Tate. Just thinking his name brings back memories of the last time I saw him. We were both naked and panting from doing dirty things in my brother’s guest bedroom. Things I’ve tried to forget but can’t. Not when my eyes are open, and most definitely not when they’re closed. If anything, nighttime makes the memories worse. They’re more vivid and consuming when the room is dark, and I’m alone in my bed.
But those recollections are always pushed away to the back of my mind. They have to be.
When my one and only cup of Joe is finished, I return to the kitchen. Last night’s soup bowl is still in the sink, along with a few other dirty dishes. I decide now is as good of a time as any to try to clean up the house. Mom was a huge help last week, but with her gone, I’ll admit, some of those pesky day-to-day chores have fallen by the wayside.
Including laundry.
Do I even have clean underwear?
Sighing, I fill up the sink with hot water and start washing. When they’re done, I make sure the counters and stovetop are wiped down, along with the microwave. After that, I head to the laundry room and throw in a load of baby clothes. Who knew babies went through so many onesies? Rowan has at least two diaper blowouts a day, resulting in scrubbing baby poop off his clothes, and often my own too.
When my chores are somewhat caught up and my eyelids start to droop, I make my way to the living room. I don’t bother with turning on the television. If it weren’t for my dad last week, that thing wouldn’t have been on in months. I’m not a TV watcher. I’ve always loved books, even as a child. Alex never understood it but in no way treated me as if I were different than him, despite the fact we’re about as night and day diverse as you can get.
Exhaustion takes hold, refusing to let go. There’s no way I can fight it. I let it pull me under.
“Wow, that’s nasty,” I say, gagging just a little as I open the diaper. Rowan’s mouth opens as he gets ready to let out a very unhappy wail. Diaper changes aren’t his thing. Dirty ones aren’t much of his thing either, so he’s a whole lot of cranky until his butt is clean and dry. Then, of course, comes food, which makes him even h
appier.
I make quick work at cleaning his bottom and making sure it’s dry before I slip on the fresh diaper. “Okay, Little Man,” I coo, picking him up off the changing station and snuggling him to my neck. I kiss his soft little cheek, but his cries only mildly let up. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re hungry.” I’m already starting to get a bit leaky, a sign it’s definitely feeding time.
Grabbing a clean burp cloth off the shelf, I head over to the glider and get myself positioned. His mouth is already opened as he seeks me out, and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before he voices his displeasure once more. I slip the nursing pillow beneath him and remove my top one-handed, like the professional breast feeder I’ve become in the last two weeks. I’m a pro at nursing at night, half asleep and dizzy from exhaustion.
Rowan latches on immediately and does his thing. I use the opportunity to watch him, taking in his features. I can’t get enough of his little button nose and his dark hair. Even the dimple in his chin makes my heart burst with pride and love. It also makes it flutter as memories of a certain similar dimple flood my mind.
But now isn’t the time to think about the past.
Only the future.
So, I spend the next thirty minutes nursing my son, planning out everything from his first birthday to what I’m going to do for his college savings. I make a decent salary at the library, but admittedly, a baby has certainly changed things, both on the personal and financial front.
I wonder how different it would be if his father were involved. Not only for financial help but to have someone to share the day-to-day load. Having my parents here last week was a huge relief, their assistance meant more to me than I could have possibly realized beforehand. Plus, they got to spend an entire week with their first grandson.
But do you know what? I tried. I reached out to him, numerous times, and when I finally connected with him, I got less than positive responses. First, it was denial. The baby wasn’t his. Couldn’t be. Because, you know, I got pregnant all on my own. Then, it was radio silence. My messages went unanswered for months, even though I knew he was seeing them until I was eventually blocked. But not before I got one final communication. A threat of lawyers and harassment charges.