by Nikki Ash
It sounds entirely too easy, but maybe it’s just that simple.
Chapter Nine
Alba
I’m not at all surprised when Travis strolls into my shop just before closing. I pause in my process of cleaning the floors and flick a piece of hair out of my eyes. “Hi,” I say, awkwardness coating my words. “Dahlia isn’t here. She’s with my mom.”
He gives a single nod, hands shoved into the pockets of his raggedy black jeans. His eyes dart around my shop, taking in all the details like he hasn’t been here before.
Leaning against the mop handle I blow out a breath. “Why’d you stop by?”
He shrugs, his leather jacket crinkling with the movement. “Thought we should talk.”
“But you haven’t said a word,” I point out, arching a brow in wait.
He walks over to one of the paintings hung on the wall. It’s simple, a swipe of black paint of a white canvas, abstract and left to the viewers interpretation. For me, I’ve always seen the curve of a woman’s body, the sensuality that’s carefully leashed because of society’s standards.
“This is nice.” He waves his fingers lazily toward the painting and turns around. “Do you have any plans tonight?”
“N-No,” I stutter. “But I have to get Dahlia when I leave here.”
He smiles. “That’s cool. I’ll pick up pizza and meet you at your place.”
“Wha—I—” He doesn’t give me a chance to say yes or no. He makes the statement and walks straight out the door.
I toss my hands up in the air, rolling my eyes. This is what I get for involving myself with Travis of all people.
As promised Travis is sitting on the front steps of my place, a large pizza box in his lap.
I shake my head as I park the car and shut it off. Climbing out, I nearly scream when I come face to face with him. My hand flies to my chest and I blink at him, no sound coming out of my mouth.
How does he move so fast? He’s like a ninja.
“Can I get her out?”
I look at Dahlia, kicking happily in her carrier while making cooing sounds.
“Um, sure.”
He gives a hesitant, nervous smile. I step back, giving him space to open the back passenger door. He fumbles with the straps, but I don’t want to sound overbearing so I let him figure it out and scoop her up. He cradles her awkwardly, but he’s got a steady hold on her so I don’t worry. Dahlia squishes her face as she looks up at the unfamiliar person holding her. I know she’s probably two seconds away from crying, but she’s going to have to get used to him if he’s going to be in the picture.
She gives a small cry as we walk up to the front door. I stiffen, prepared to take her if he can’t handle it, but he shocks me when he starts bouncing her up and down, a quiet hum rumbling in his chest. She quiets, bottom lip still trembling but content for now.
I unlock the door and scoop up the pizza box from the porch, letting Travis head in first with the baby.
I wish I could say it wasn’t sexy as hell seeing tattooed, muscled Travis holding a baby, but damn I’m glad he already got me pregnant or I might just ask him to do the deed right now.
“Where should I put her?”
“Just hold onto her for now.” I walk past him into the kitchen, setting the pizza box on the table and taking off my purse, draping the strap over the chair. “I need to change her diaper.”
“Can I change it?”
I whip around, staring at him in shock. “You want to change a dirty diaper?”
“Well, yeah? Shouldn’t I? I have to learn somehow.”
I blink at him, half expecting him to disappear like some sort of mirage.
“Okay, then.” I lead him over to the downstairs playpen with an attached changing station.
He lays Dahlia on it while I grab a diaper, wipes, and ointment from the side compartment.
“First, you have to take off her pants and undo her onesie snaps.” He gives me an apprehensive look but follows those steps. “This is a pee diaper, so you’re getting off easy this time. She might not be a boy, but she has peed on me before so don’t be surprised if that happens.”
His eyes widen with panic. “Babies pee on you?”
I giggle and he gives me a large smile in return. “They can’t exactly control it.”
He shudders. “Okay, what do I do once the diaper is off?”
“I always fold it under her so none of the nasty gets on her, wipe her, and switch out the dirty for the clean.”
“I can do this,” he says more to himself than me.
I finish talking him through the process. It takes him twice the time that it would me, but I don’t complain, I’m just happy he’s trying.
“Good job.” I give him a literal pat on the back because I’m a giant dork and he grins, amused by my awkwardness. “I’ll take her.” I hold my hands out for her, but he shakes his head.
“No, I’ve got her.” He saunters past me into the kitchen. “Where are your plates?” He starts opening cabinets with one hand, holding onto Dahlia tightly with the other.
“Just make yourself at home,” I mutter sarcastically, greeted with a cocky grin in return. “It’s that one.” I point to the cabinet on the right of the sink.
“Aha!” He chimes like he’s the one who found it. He pulls down two plates and I open up the pizza box, giving us each two slices to start. Something tells me I’ll need more than two to deal with Travis this evening.
“Are you going to hold her while you eat?” I pull out a chair and sit down, trying not to let out a sigh at how good it feels to rest.
He looks down at our baby and back at me. “I want to hold her for as long as I can. I have to make up all the time I’ve lost.” He glides his tattooed finger over her plump cheek, a mystified expression on his face. “How is it possible that I already love her? I don’t even know her.”
I shrug, biting into a slice. “That’s how kids work. It’s darn annoying. You pop them out and it’s insta love.”
He settles in the chair across from me. “Were you scared when you found out?”
I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. “Terrified.” Rubbing my lips together, I hesitate on whether to say more or not, but then the words just start coming out. “I never saw myself as a mother, but as soon as the I saw the positive test I knew I had to step up to the plate. I was never not going to have her. Personally, that wasn’t a thought in my brain when I missed my period. I figured if I was pregnant then this was life steering me onto a path I hadn’t thought was for me, but apparently needed. Now, I don’t know what I’d do without her.” I let out a breath, staring at the veggie and meat pizza instead of him. “Life gives us unexpected miracles and she’s the biggest and best one that’s ever been sent my way.”
God, I sound insane. Like a total nutcase, but it’s how I feel. The universe knew I needed Dahlia when I didn’t. She’s changed my life for the better and I wouldn’t take anything back.
Silence falls, both of us eating our pizza with only the quiet whir of the fridge as background noise.
Travis wipes his fingers on a napkin, clearing his throat. Dahlia is passed out asleep in his arms. Her easy acceptance of him surprises me. She’s never done well with strangers. I can’t understand how, but maybe on some level she knows he’s her dad.
“You’ve never asked me why I left.”
I blink at him, surprised he brought this up. “I don’t care.”
“You don’t?” His brows furrow, at a complete loss.
“I did to start with, I was pissed that we…that we…”
“Fucked? Slept together? Did the dirty?”
“Shut up,” I grumble, blushing. Yes, I’m a grown woman blushing, but after so long without sex when I’m not utterly exhausted, I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Any topic of sex now makes me ache in a way I never understood before. “Anyway, I was mad to start with since you literally disappeared like you never existed, but I got over it. We’re adul
ts. Your business is yours.”
I take the last bite of my pizza, dropping the crust onto the plate.
“My brother needed me,” he murmurs quietly, rocking Dahlia.
“Hmm.”
“He got cancer.” His voice thickens with emotion. “Terminal. I…I dropped everything to be with him. He didn’t want me too, but Christian was my little brother, my best friend, and I couldn’t not be there for him. I wanted all the time I could get with him because I knew it was limited. I wasn’t going to look back and regret not going.”
“I’m really sorry.”
I swear tears swim in his eyes, and he gives Dahlia a small smile. “He would’ve loved her and being an uncle. I know he would’ve spoiled her silly.”
I don’t know what makes me do it, but I reach over and put my hands on his forearm. He jolts like I’ve electrocuted him. “She has him as a guardian angel now and you’ll make sure she knows all about him.”
“I will,” he vows.
It’s more than an hour later when I come down from putting Dahlia to bed. Travis helped me give her a bath, but I insisted on handling getting her settled for the night. We have our routine and I didn’t want his presence to affect that.
A shadow moves and my hand flies to my chest. “Oh my God!” I flick on the light, finding Travis sitting on the couch. “You’re still here.”
It’s such an obvious statement. He’s right in front of me. But when he descended the stairs after her bath, I expected him to let himself out.
“Is that okay?” The elegant slope of his brow arches.
He unfolds that long lean body from my small couch, towering above me. My heart beats faster, the throbbing impossible to ignore.
“Huh?” I blurt, losing all sense.
The light I turned on isn’t bright, the room still muted, and in the tiny space his scent permeates every square inch of air and even though he’s not touching me it feels like he is. I don’t want him to touch me. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t.
This feels all too similar to that night.
The one that led to a tangle of limbs amidst sheets. His skin pressed to mine. Lips biting and nipping. Fingers clasped.
It was never supposed to happen again. We agreed on that. A one and done deal.
I hated him.
I still hate him.
He steals my coffee and my pens and does everything he can to irritate the shit out of me.
But now with Dahlia I can’t erase Travis from my life. He’s a permanent fixture, one I can’t get rid of as much as I may wish.
With him taking one step closer to me I’m actually contemplating what it would be like to be touched by him again. Would it feel as good? The passion still as intense? Would it make me lose all sense of control?
He cocks his head, pausing right in front of me. Close enough that his breath caresses the edge of my lips when he speaks, “I asked if that was okay, that I’m still here?”
My tongue slides out of its volition, wetting the suddenly dry, desert like surface. “Y-Yes, but why are you?”
He grins, blue orbs flashing to my lips. “Do I make you nervous?”
“No,” I scoff. The very idea that he makes me nervous is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.
“Then why are you shaking?”
I didn’t realize I was, but suddenly he’s scooping up my hands, cradling them between his and the tremble is unmistakable.
Damn him.
I look away from his too penetrating gaze. Travis Alexander has always been able to see right through me. It’s like some superpower of his, being able to strip me bare with a single glance. It’s almost unfair how well he seems to know me.
“Cold,” I finally reply.
“Mhmm,” he hums, eyes sparkling. He doesn’t believe me at all. I didn’t expect him to, but the lie makes me feel better, nonetheless. “Then come here.”
I don’t have a moment to question him before he tugs me over to the couch and down beside me. He grabs the blanket folded neatly on the arm and drapes it over the two of us. For once, I’m shocked to silence. He picks up the remote, turning the TV on and flicking through the channels.
“I didn’t know you lived here,” I grumble, wiggling to get comfortable which somehow pushes me even further into his body. In my defense my couch is closer to the size of a love seat.
“Shh,” he hushes me, giving me a cocky smile, “we both know you like my company. You don’t have to pretend to hate me all the time, you know? Especially when no one’s watching.”
“I don’t…I don’t hate you.”
“But you don’t like me either.”
“It’s complicated,” I sigh.
He stops on the Travel Channel, some ghost hunting show, not the typical one I watch, is playing and a guy is screaming in an empty room. “I’ll make it even more complicated. I like you.”
I snort. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know you better than you think I do.”
“Try me,” I challenge, sitting up straighter. The blanket pools on my lap and I rub my fingers on a worn piece of fringe.
He grins at the challenge. Scooting back, he drapes his right arm along the back of the couch, crossing his left leg over top the right.
“For starters, I know you live off vanilla iced coffee.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s only because you always steal my fucking coffee.” I push at his knee but it barely moves. “Try again.”
“Your favorite color is red. There are hints of it in your tattoo shop and even here.” He flicks his fingers down to the red blanket draped over my legs. “You’re closed off, but not because you hate people. You’re trying to protect yourself because you’ve been hurt before.” I look away. How does he see and know so much? It’s not fair. I’m not nearly as observant when it comes to him. “You smile when you talk about your mom. She’s your best friend I’d wager to guess.” My lips press together, color flooding my cheeks as he rattles on. “You have a sweet tooth but wish you didn’t. I’ve seen you buy so many of those nasty grain muffins at Griffin’s only to throw them away and turn around and buy the chocolate croissant you really wanted instead. I know your art is beautiful, both the ones on you and what you create.” Goosebumps pimple my skin from his touch as he traces a vine snaking along my arm. His voice drops, “And I know that I unintentionally hurt you with my absence and you don’t want to believe I’m sorry, it’s easier to be mad at me, and that’s okay. I’ll be the bad guy for a little while longer. Being a villain isn’t all bad.”
“Why is that?” I muster up the words, my voice softer than normal. He’s barreling through every wall I’ve ever put up around myself faster than I can repair them and it’s not fair. I’m a smart, independent woman. I don’t need a man. But God, I hate to admit it he’s one I want, and I’m not prepared for that realization at all.
“Because villains get the best redemption stories.” He stands then, my eyes following as he unfolds that large thin body from the couch. He shocks me when he bends, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek, dangerously close to my mouth.
Without another word, he lets himself out, and I’m left haunted with the feeling that this whole time I thought I hated Travis it was an entirely different emotion forming instead.
Chapter Ten
Travis
Alba doesn’t look at all surprised when I stroll into Between the Lines. We’ve fallen into a routine over the last week and she no longer gives me a skeptical look when I arrive.
“I’m not making dinner tonight,” she announces, sipping a glass of water. “Are you good with Thai?”
“Always.” I pull out a stool and sit down. “Do you want me to pick it up while you get Dahlia?”
Dahlia—fuck, I love the name of my daughter on my lips. In such a short time it doesn’t feel foreign at all. For someone so small, that doesn’t even talk, only coos, she’s stolen my heart.
“Actually, my mom’s dropping her off any minute.” Alba flicks a page i
n the magazine she’s looking at. “I thought we could eat at the restaurant.”
I arch a brow, unconsciously wringing my hands together. “So, I’m going to meet your mom?”
“Is that a problem?” she challenges, her tone almost implying she hopes it is.
“Nope.” We’re silent for a few minutes before I ask, “What does she know about me?”
Alba closes the magazine, resting her elbow on the counter and her head in her hand. Her lips twitch with the threat of either a smile or laughter, I’m not sure which. “Just that you knocked me up.”
I let out a snort of indignation. “She hates my guts then.”
“No,” she says seriously. “She loves Dahlia, and sees how much I love being a mom, she would never hate you for giving me that.”
“But?” There’s totally a but, it’s stinking up the air.
“But, you left,” she finishes, moving the magazine to the side to busy her hands. “You had good reasons, sure, and I understand them, but she’s my mom. She’s allowed to be mad at you for hurting her daughter. I know I’d feel the same if it was Dahlia.” She traces her finger idly on the black quartz countertop dotted with specks of silver. “She’ll get over it one day if…” She trails off, dark brows narrowing together.
“If?” I prompt, not letting her off the hook.
She sighs, straightening her shoulders. “If you don’t leave again.”
“I’m not leaving you again.”
“Me or her?” she voices so quietly I don’t think she intends to be heard. There’s a tiny flinch after she says it and I know then she really didn’t mean to say it.
“Both.”
Her eyes spark to mine, but quickly look away flitting across the room and not settling on one thing in particular.
I know she’s doubtful and doesn’t want to trust me. Can’t say I blame her, but when I left I had no way of knowing she was pregnant. It was a complete fluke that I broke my phone. Still, I don’t regret being there for my brother. I’d do it all again. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try my damn hardest to make it up to her. Alba deserves that.