Forbidden Daddy (Daddy Knows Best Book 3)

by Kelly Myers

  The thing is, she really had me convinced it was real. Even when she objected to getting too serious, even when she constantly brought up her worries over our future, I thought she had real feelings for me.

  I suppose I’m not as smart as I thought. I’ve learned a lot, but clearly there’s more wisdom to gain.

  I can’t look at her anymore. Seeing her face just makes me replay the scene of her brief kiss with Tommy over and over again.

  “You’re too young for me,” I say. “And I’m the fool for not realising that.”

  “I can’t change my age,” Cynthia whispers.

  “I know,” I say.

  I turn on my heel and storm back to my house, leaving Cynthia alone in the driveway.

  I slam the door behind me and drift through my hallway, my fists still clenched and my limbs buzzing with anger. At Cynthia, at Tommy and at myself. I know I didn’t handle that situation well at all, but I’m too riled up to go back out there and try and fix it.

  I do however stay by the door and peer through the window, just to make sure she gets home alright.

  Cynthia stands still in the driveway, her shoulders slumped in utter defeat for several long seconds. I can’t see her face since her back is towards me, but her shadow wavers in front of her on the gravel.

  At last she walks to the house next door and lets herself inside.

  I turn away from the window and stride into the living room. No more spying. No more thinking about her in general. This whole thing has blown up in my face, and I only have myself to blame.

  I knew serious relationships weren’t for me. I learned that from my failed marriage.

  Yet here I am, making the same mistakes I did fifteen years ago. Falling too hard for a girl who isn’t right for me.

  It’s not really comparable though. Cynthia and I never even discussed anything as serious as marriage. We were playing a game, truth be told. We wanted to see how long we could exist in our bubble where we didn’t talk about the future at all.

  I groan as I realize that I’m still her landlord. I’m still going to have to accept her rent payment for the last month of her residence, and I’ll still have to run into her now and then. I consider taking an impromptu vacation. I can work from anywhere, so it wouldn’t be that difficult.

  I collapse into a chair and run my hand over my face. I’m exhausted all of a sudden. And am I really that much of a coward that I have to run away from this mess?

  I wonder what she’s doing over in her apartment. Guilt twinges in my chest. She looked pretty distraught. And not just because she had been caught kissing someone else. In fact, when she first saw me, she looked shocked but not guilty. Because maybe she didn’t actually do anything to be guilty about.

  What did she say? That he kissed her?

  It had been brief, I saw that. I only saw the back of his head, so I couldn’t really see how she responded, but it was clear it ended quickly.

  And instead of giving her time to explain what happened, I lashed out. She didn’t give me a simple backstory in seconds, so I said awful things. And that’s when she got upset. Too upset to talk.

  I press my hand against my mouth and grimace. I could have handled that whole situation better. I could have let her speak.

  Instead I said the meanest things I could think of and then stormed off.

  Now she’s all alone over there, probably cursing my name. She probably regrets the day she asked me to fix her water heater.

  A thickness grows in my throat, and with a massive moan, I bury my face in my hands.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Cynthia

  I don’t even make it all the way up the stairs before the tears start pouring down my face.

  This whole evening has been a disaster. I throw my bag down and run to my bedroom, where I collapse on my bed and wrap my arms tightly around my torso.

  I feel like I’m falling apart. Like my heart has been blown asunder, and now the explosion is ricocheting through the rest of my body, ripping open my limbs.

  I let out great heaving sobs. I don’t understand how Nate could be so cruel to me. Of course, I see how he could misread the situation. And I understand how much it might have hurt to see me with someone else. If I had seen him kissing another woman, I would be devastated.

  But I was trying to explain. The kiss was obviously nothing to me. He must not have seen how ambivalent I was. I only let Tommy kiss me because I felt bad for a friend, and I didn’t know how to stop it without hurting his feelings.

  Only Nate was so angry, I got overwhelmed. I couldn’t find the right words. And everytime I tried, he cut me off to say another devastating thing.

  I suck in my breath and cover my face in my hands. I’m sad, but I’m also angry at Nate. He shouldn’t have lost his cool like that. I thought he was more able to handle his emotions.

  Of course, I’m one to talk. I’m the girl who ran away to a dumb party because I couldn’t deal with the uncertainty of my relationship with Nate. And out in the driveway, I’m the one who got too emotional to tell him the truth: that Tommy meant nothing, and it’s him I truly love.

  I lift my head and stare straight ahead.

  Love. Do I really love Nate?

  The answer is yes, but that doesn’t bring me any joy. It just makes me cry even harder.

  Because it’s over. He said it was. And if I know one thing about Nate, it’s that he means what he says.

  After a while, I run out of tears. I slowly change out of my uncomfortable party clothes and into a pair of cozy pajamas. They don’t make me feel much better.

  I’ve grown used to sleeping in Nate’s arms every night. How am I supposed to sleep alone now?

  I take a few deep breaths and then walk to my kitchen to drink some water. As my head starts to clear, I realize there were so many things I could have said to him out in the driveway. I could have said that Tommy kissed me, and I didn’t want to hurt him so I didn’t push him away. I could have explained that Tommy confessed his feelings and I told him we could never be together because I wanted to be with Nate.

  Instead I stood there and stammered like an idiot and let him wound me with his words. My head was still reeling from the difficult conversation with Tommy. I wasn’t prepared for Nate to lash out like that. I wish he had just been a little more patient.

  And yet at the same time, I know that an injured animal backed into a corner will always fight to the death. Nate was hurt by my unwilling kiss with Tommy. Beneath his cruel words and anger, I could sense the pain. It kills me that I made him doubt me like that. I want to run over and apologize. He’s only a few yards away, after all, but I can’t do it. He owes me an apology as well.

  I don’t know what to do. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I don’t know how to make myself feel even slightly better.

  Even going to my bathroom is traumatizing. As soon as I walk inside, I remember the first time we had sex. I remember the moment he looked at me with blazing intensity, and I knew in my bones that my life was about to change.

  And it only got better from there. I didn’t think it was possible, but the last few weeks have been some of the best weeks of my life. I like myself better with him. My lip starts to tremble as I realize, all over again, that it’s done. The end arrived, and it arrived way too soon.

  I thought, deluded fool that I was, that I could be ok with our relationship ending when I graduated. Nonsense. I wanted more. I still want more. I just don’t think I’ll get it.

  Tommy’s not the only one who missed his shot tonight.

  I start to brush my teeth and wash my face. Every movement brings back some painful memory of preparing for bed with Nate. I was uncomfortable with changing into pajamas and going through my nighttime routine at first, but within a few days, I was totally at ease. It felt normal to brush my teeth by his side at the sink, and then curl up in bed so we could both read for a bit before turning the lights off.

  I dry the water from my face and start to rifle t
hrough my drawers for some moisturizer. I pause when I open the second drawer. It’s the one I keep my tampons in. I stare at the little blue box.

  I look up and meet my own puzzled gaze in the mirror. It’s May. The first week of May.

  Slowly, I move to the toilet, put the cover down and sit down on it. The day Nate came to fix my water heater was during the first week of April. I can’t remember which day precisely, but it was the very beginning of the month.

  We had sex that day, with the condom. Then we had sex two days later, without a condom. That was the only time we didn’t use protection. I’m not on the pill or anything, but we risked it that once because I said I knew my dates.

  I shut my eyes and stop breathing as I realize I must have miscalculated. Whatever I thought about the dates of my period that night was wrong. Because I haven’t gotten it all month.

  In the heat of the moment, I must have lost track of time. I remember how desperate I was to have Nate inside me. A trivial thing like dates and weeks and menstrual cycles didn’t matter.

  I look back at the drawer holding the tampons. My last period was sometime in March. So I should have gotten it by now. I can’t recall exactly when, it’s all so muddled, but it should definitely have happened. I’ve never been this late.

  I press my fingers against my eyelids. How is this nightmare of a day and night still not over? I thought the evening was catastrophic before, but this development is truly earth-shaking.

  I open my eyes and focus. I can’t jump to conclusions. I need to know for sure.

  I stand up and head to my closet. I start to dig through my storage boxes. I know I have it somewhere. It was last year, and Becca was in a panic. She thought she might be pregnant. She hadn’t had unprotected sex, but she always got nervous about that kind of thing. She didn’t want to buy the tests herself though, so I told her I would get them. I wasn’t embarrassed because I wasn’t the one terrified of an unplanned pregnancy.

  I purchased the box of the most reliable-looking tests at CVS, and I told Becca to meet me at my place. She did, and she took the test in my bathroom. Of course, she was not pregnant, so I shoved the box with the remaining tests somewhere in my closet, and we went out to dinner to celebrate.

  At last, my hand lands on the box. My heart is racing as I pull out a test. I read the instructions about three times.

  Then I go to the bathroom and pee. I leave the stick on my bathroom sink and pace around my tiny apartment.

  I can’t think. I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s positive. I can’t think beyond the three minutes it takes for the test to have a result.

  When the time is up, I poke my head into the bathroom. I pick up the stick, and I’m not even surprised. I think, on some level, I knew. Between the random throwing-up at the party and the realization that I’ve missed my period, I knew. The test just confirms it.

  I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant with Nate’s child.

  And everything is in shambles between us.

  Tears prick at my eyes. I’m supposed to go to medical school this fall. I’m supposed to become a successful doctor, and then I’m supposed to have kids. It’s all supposed to be planned.

  I blew up all those plans the second I begged Nate to enter me without a condom.

  I know he would take some of the responsibility for it. He might even say he should take all the responsibility since I was a virgin two days before it happened. And yet I’m the woman. The female is always supposed to remember.

  I take a deep breath and move my hand to my stomach. Of course, there’s no swelling. It feels as flat as always. The baby is probably smaller than a peanut. Just a tiny little conglomerate of cells really.

  I don’t even know how I feel. The whole past two hours have been so long and emotional, I’ve used up all my processing abilities. I just feel stalled.

  I can’t make a decision about this. Not right now. I need to tell Nate first. Only I have absolutely no idea how to tell him this.

  Hey, I know you think I’m scum of the earth and all that, and I know you saw me kissing another man just now (although I have to tell you, I wasn’t actually kissing him, and it’s really you I’m in love with), but I have some other news: remember when we did it wihout a condom literally my second time ever having sex? Well. I’m pregnant.

  I cringe. It sounds so absurd in my head, and it would sound even worse in reality.

  I could always send a text. I dismiss that idea right away though. Nate would not be happy about a text message announcing this kind of news. It’s too brusque and informal.

  Besides, I have to see his face when I tell him. I can’t quite explain why, but I need to know his initial and genuine reaction to this development. That will affect how I proceed.

  I wrap my arms around myself at the idea of proceeding. My options are all terrifying.

  If I keep it, my life will be forever changed. If I get rid of it, my life will also be changed, in a different way.

  I don’t even consider hiding this from Nate. I promised him I would be honest with him always, and our fight tonight doesn’t change that. Besides, I have a moral compass, and this is something I believe in: it takes two people to create a life. It should take two people to decide what to do with that life.

  I don’t think I can tell him tonight though. It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m not at all in the right headspace.

  Apparently, I wasn’t out of tears earlier, because they started coming again. These are different and more complicated tears. I don’t know if I’m crying because I’m pregnant and scared, or crying because I’m pregnant and all I want to do is share this news with Nate, but I can’t because he hates me now.

  Mostly, I think I’m crying because I wish that I could have at least figured this out a day earlier. Then I would have told Nate yesterday, when he didn’t despise me.

  And maybe then, I would be sleeping in his arms right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Nate

  I know I acted too impulsively. It takes me almost an hour, but I start to calm down and regret my actions. As my anger fades and is replaced with sadness that Cynthia isn’t in my home where she belongs, I start to regret everything I said. It was cruel to belittle her and say she was too young and fickle. It was downright obnoxious to have that kind of conversation out in the driveway instead of at least inviting her inside so we could talk in a more civil setting.

  I just got overcome by my emotions. I acted on some primal instinct, when I should have calmed down.

  Honestly, I shouldn’t have even been out there spying on her in the first place. I should have let her tell me what she needed to tell me afterwards. No relationship can grow without trust, and I showed Cynthia that I don’t trust her at all tonight.

  I overreacted and I should have done a lot of things differently, but I can’t go back in time. I just have to figure out how to make this right.

  I still want to be with Cynthia. I lashed out in part because I was frustrated with myself. I hadn’t told her that I was ready to commit long-term, so I was mad that my oversight led her to questioning me in the first place and needing space.

  I need to tell her all that now. Wasn’t I the one who got so mad a few weeks ago when she sent that text trying to deny her feelings? I can’t do the same thing. I have to own my feelings for her.

  It’s not going to be easy. Things are still complicated. But she needs to know where I stand.

  I think of the best way to do this. The image of a defeated Cynthia trudging back to her place with her shoulders slumped pops into my head. I realize I need to act now. I can’t leave this for tomorrow. I can’t let her go another minute thinking I don’t care about her.

  Rejuvenated with a fresh wave of determined energy, I stand up and throw a jacket on. I snatch my keys from my door and exit my house. I cross the driveway, and the night is dead silent. But when I look up, I see that her light is still on.

  I take a deep breath. I can’t mess this up. I won
’t have an infinite number of chances with Cynthia, so I need to get this right.

  I pick up my phone and call her.

  It takes a few rings, but she picks up.

  “Nate.” Her voice is muffled, and I can tell she’s been crying.

  “I’m outside with my keys,” I say as gently as I can. “Can I come up?”

  Cynthia sniffles, but she doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

  I shove my keys in the door and bounce up the steps.

  When I open the door to her apartment, I find her in light blue pajamas, sitting on her couch as if she’s been waiting for me. Her eyes are red and poofy, and my heart aches for her.

  I cross the room. She stands up, despite her obvious fatigue, so she can face me head-on. She’s scared and defensive, I can tell by the way she crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Cynthia, I’m so sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said any of that, I only acted that way because I was upset to even think you might be with someone else.”

  “I’m not with Tommy,” Cynthia says. “I was trying to explain that to you.”

  “I know.” My voice comes out strangled and desperate. “Sweetheart, trust me, I know. I should have let you talk, and I’m willing to do that, I promise I won’t cut you off.”

  Cynthia shrugs and stares at a point somewhere beyond my left shoulder. “There’s not much to explain. Tommy gave me a ride home from the party, and he told me he had feelings for me, but I had to tell him I didn’t return them. I know he may be good for me on paper, but it’s impossible. I know what I feel for you, and it’s so much more powerful than anything I could feel for him.”

  My heart leaps at her confession, but I’m still concerned that she won’t look at me.

  “He kissed me, but I didn’t kiss him back,” Cynthia says. “And if you don’t believe me, that’s fine, but I swear, it was nothing.”