“What are you doing with the baby once you’re back to work?”
“I’ll hire a part-time person to help me for a few hours and pray that the baby sleeps,” I say, hopeful. “What are the holes?”
“It’s all based on probabilities, and if one thing goes wrong, we have to have a fallback,” he suggests. “If this Pierce guy has cases, if Persy has work… Those are way too many risks because what if they don’t have anything solid for months. I think you should start a small firm. Brassard & Associates. You hire lawyers that can take the load when you’re on maternity leave.”
“Remember the part where I can’t afford to take that big step,” I remind him and add, “And I refuse to either get a loan or accept loans from friends.”
“How about an investor?”
“It’s a law firm. Things work differently,” I clarify. “Thank you for trying to help though. I’m sure Persy will have something. I mean, she’s been pushing me to be her agent.”
He frowns and nods. “That’s perfect. Sheila could work for Persy, raise her kids, and even plot on how to steal millions of dollars from her. You can do at least the first two things and have the side jobs for a rainy day.”
When he points at September twenty-eighth on the calendar, I stare at his arm, trying to read one of his tattoos.
Life is either a great adventure or nothing. -H.K.
“Who is H.K.?” I ask, tracing the words.
“Hellen Keller,” he replies.
“That’s a…”
“Perfect mantra to follow,” he answers. “I believe there’s a gray area for everything except for life. You either live it or you don’t. You see every experience as a learning moment, or you can repeat the same pattern and live with regrets.”
The way he says it makes me think about all the years I’ve been neglecting myself. What I did yesterday opened my eyes to what I’ve been missing. Everything I know exists and have experienced from a young age I decided to push away for what I thought was stability. Just this week I learned that nothing is granted and in a blink of an eye, everything can disappear.
“Life is a choice,” I say out loud, which is something I told myself yesterday. I either choose to see this period of my life as a new beginning or cry for what I never accomplished during my old chapter.
He takes a pen, and carefully writes on my wrist those four words, Life is a choice.
“You should get a tattoo of it,” he says, while writing the same on his left wrist.
I stare at our wrists and wonder what choices we should make and if all the choices I’ve made so far are the right ones.
“Listen, this is scary, but you’re going to be all right. We’re here for you,” he assures me.
He’s right, my parents are going to love the baby. Eros and Persy will be the best aunt and uncle. I’m not sure what Callie will do, but I trust that someday she’ll come back to us.
Nate points out a few more flaws and mocks that I drew fruits on the calendar for every week. According to one of the websites I consulted, they compare the baby’s size with fruits and some vegetables. I thought it was a great way to remember how big she or he is getting. He can’t blame me for having blueberries for this week. Next week it’s a raspberry, and well, I’m not looking forward to having a pumpkin or a watermelon come out of my vagina. Thankfully, I’ll have enough time to get used to the idea.
It’s almost five when Nate heads to the kitchen where he begins to look around the pantry and the fridge.
“You have food for Brock,” he states with a surprised voice.
“In case he visits again,” I announce, searching for the food bowl I bought for my favorite pup.
“Thank you,” he says looking at everything I got for Brock. The mat, the toys and some treats. “We are touched—but you’re not keeping him.”
I laugh at his warning and ask, “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” he answers as he grabs a pot and starts filling it with water. “I’m thinking pasta, garlic bread, and a salad.”
“You know how to cook?” I stare at him attentively as he washes the tomatoes. “There’s a jar of marinara sauce in the pantry.”
He gives me a grimacing look. “What’s next? Frozen garlic bread?”
I laugh but he doesn’t join. “You are serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” he answers, going back to the tomatoes.
I observe him as he chops tomato, onion, and minces garlic with precision. He knows what he’s doing and sadly, he looks hot while he’s at it.
“You are…unexpected,” I say, and maybe this is the second or third time I mention this since I’ve met him. “How… I’m not even sure what to ask you. Who taught you it is wrong to eat marinara from a jar? Are you Italian?”
“After my parents’ divorce, my paternal grandparents came to live with us,” he responds. “Grandma was Mexican. She used to say that ‘Idleness is the mother of all vices.’ So, during our free time, they kept us busy. When we weren’t with Grandpa helping him fix things around the house, we were cleaning or cooking with her.”
“They sound like interesting people,” I say.
“They were awesome,” he admits and glances at me as he sautés the tomatoes and onions.
He sighs and with a low voice he says, “Your parents remind me of them, but not exactly.”
“Were?” I ask, curiously.
“They died when we were twelve,” he states. “Grandma had cancer and Grandpa died a couple of months after she did. A heart attack.”
I wonder if maybe his grandfather lost the will to continue because the love of his life was gone? Before I can ask more about his family, the doorbell rings. When I check the app, I see Edward waiting.
“I’ll get it,” Nate announces, handing me the wooden spoon he’s holding and turning down the flame.
I take a sip of my ginger seltzer as I watch the door.
“Can I help you?” he asks, swinging the door open. Brock walks toward them and growls at Edward.
I swear, Nate pats him the same way he does when he’s done something good. They are a pair.
“I’m looking for Nyx Brassard,” Edward’s voice is somehow louder than usual but squeakier too.
Is he afraid of the dog? Brock attacks people with love.
“And you are?” Nate questions with a growl that sounds pretty similar to the tone Brock just used a few seconds ago.
I hold the laughter.
“Edward Bryant. She’s expecting me.”
Nate moves and I walk toward the living room area. Having an open house has its advantages and disadvantages. Anyone can see everything from almost every angle. It’s aesthetic, but I have to keep the kitchen clean all the time. When I leave dishes around the house, the place looks messy, or maybe it’s me. I’m too anal.
This is going to serve me well with a baby. With my luck it’s going to be as messy as Eros and Persy.
“Edward,” I greet him. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
Edward looks at the seltzer bottle I hold and says, “No, thank you, I don’t have much time. What do you need?”
Nate stands right next to me, takes the spoon and the seltzer, freeing my hands. “Go ahead. I’m here if you need me.”
I nod and wait until he moves, but he doesn’t. Shoving my hands in the back of my jeans pockets I look at Edward and say it, “I’m pregnant,” pausing and taking a deep breath I add, “And by the way it’s yours.”
He gasps, takes a step back and shakes his head. “No, that’s impossible. We used a condom.”
His gaze is focused on the floor and then when he lifts his chin, he accuses me, “They were yours. You poked them so you could—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” I say, grabbing the documents Pierce prepared for me and handing them to him. “As I was saying, I am pregnant. I plan on keeping this baby. However, I don’t expect anything from you. You can decide how involved you want to be. If you plan on being in the l
ife of my baby, you have to commit one hundred percent. It’s not a today I’m in and tomorrow I’m out. Children need consistency.”
He stares at me and then at the papers. Nate turns around and marches to the kitchen. I wait while Ed reads each page and sighs.
“You can’t spring this on me and demand an immediate answer. How do I know if this baby is mine and not his?” He points toward the kitchen.
I laugh. “He’s a friend. I’ve never had sex with him so him being the father would be a miracle.”
He huffs, walks around in circles and then stands up in front of me. “So, I can see the baby, but you don’t need child support?
“Actually, if you want to have rights, you’ll have to have obligations too,” I warn him. “I don’t expect you to support the kid entirely, but if you want to have visitations, share custody or have any relationship with her, I expect you to provide for the baby too.”
He scrunches his face in disgust and says, “It’s a she?”
I place a hand on my flat belly and snap, “It’s too early to know if it’s a boy or a girl, but if you’ll be making a decision based on gender, you can just sign those papers and be done with this. My kid won’t be raised by some misogynistic man.”
He glares at me, puffs his chest and before he can say anything, Nate speaks, “I’d be careful with my next words if I were you.”
Edward exhales harshly, and says, “I need a paternity test and time before I make any decision.”
“If there’s a non-invasive test before the baby is born, I’ll get that done. It could be easier if you just sign the papers,” I advise because it’s apparent that we’re going to have more problems than I anticipated.
He stares at the papers, then at Nate, and finally at me. “Easier for you,” he states. “What if this is my only chance to be a father? Maybe I’ll fight you for custody.”
“Maybe it is time for you to leave because you’re pissing me off, man.” Nate walks to him and looks down. Edward is about four inches shorter and thin in comparison. I’m pretty sure little Eddy is trembling. “This isn’t a game. It’s the life of a person. The future of a child who wasn’t planned but will be here whether you like it or not. It’s not about you or Nyx, it’s about a baby who will depend on her parents. A girl or a boy who needs love, attention, and you have to be sure that you’re up for the task—which lasts a lifetime.”
“This doesn’t concern you,” Edward argues.
“Nyx isn’t alone, so don’t think you can try to walk all over her,” Nate states. “She’s pregnant, not disabled. The next time you piss her off, I won’t intervene. I’ll let her bust your balls.”
“And who the fuck do you think you are?” Edward challenges him. “I can take you down if you continue pissing me off.”
“Nathaniel Chadwick,” Nate answers followed by his arrogant smirk. “You can google me, if you’re not sure who you’re fucking with.”
I hate to say that that was hot, because this was my moment and he stole it.
Or did he?
“This is bigger than any of us and not some legal case that should be settled in court, a bet, or a game. I expect you to be mature about the situation and mindful of my child,” I say. “We can settle it easily, but if you’d like to do it the hard way just remember who has had to save your ass when you fuck up a case—also, Pierce is on my side.”
If there’s anyone he is afraid of, it’s his cousin.
He turns around and dashes out of the house without saying another word.
Once Edward leaves, Nate turns around and apologizes. “I’m sorry for intervening, but he was starting to say things I can’t tolerate, and you don’t need to get upset. It’s bad for the baby.”
“You’re cute.”
“Damn woman, you like to hurt my pride. Let me finish cooking. When is the realtor arriving?”
Checking the time on my phone, I realize she’ll be here in less than an hour. “Soon,” I answer. “Let me help you so we can eat before she arrives.” I kiss his cheek and repeat, “Thank you.”
It wasn’t necessary for him to bump heads with Edward, but I appreciate the sentiment. I appreciate even more that he’s worried about the baby’s wellbeing.
Nineteen
Nyx
Kerry texts that she’s going to be thirty minutes late. That gives us plenty of time to eat and for Nate to start clearing the table and cleaning the kitchen. Brock and I go out for a quick walk and when we’re back, she’s by the door looking at the exterior of the house.
“Are you Nyx?” she asks.
“Yes, Nyx Brassard,” I confirm, extending my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kerry.”
“Do you own more than one pet?” she asks, staring at Brock.
“No, he’s just a friend visiting. The place is pet free, smoke free, and brand new. The previous owner bought it and demolished the old construction.”
She nods and types something on her tablet. We go inside where Nate is still cleaning the kitchen. Kerry doesn’t pay much attention to him and focuses more on the house. She asks me questions about the rooms, the square footage, and other features. After an hour discussing prices, alternatives, and plans, I sign an agreement to sell the house and use her as my real estate agent.
Nate isn’t thrilled about it, and after Kerry leaves, he repeats the same thing, “We can work things out without the need to sell this place.”
He’s a sweet guy, but he’s a billionaire and it’s obvious that if anything were to happen to one of his companies, he has a few others to fall back on. His brother could bail him out. I am the one who bails out my siblings.
“As I said, it’s not only about the money but also the school district. According to my research, I should move south of the city,” I inform him. “Plus, the asking price is twenty percent above what I thought they’d give me. You heard her, it might sell in a matter of days. This place is a hot commodity.”
There aren’t many houses for sale around the area and people are paying prime prices to live in this neighborhood. She’s going to put the For Sale sign out tomorrow with a banner on top that says Coming Soon to stir interest.
I have a couple of days to pack and put my things in storage. She’s hiring a person to stage the house and bring in her own furniture—Nate is the one who requested it.
“I’ll support you no matter what,” he states and then says, “We should start packing what you’ll be taking with you. Demetri arrives tomorrow to take care of the rest.”
“Your butler?”
“House manager and assistant,” he corrects me.
I narrow my gaze, studying him. “You’re dragging him from New York just to do this?”
“He’s flying from Seattle,” he clarifies. “D manages all my properties, and he’s due to come to Denver soon.”
“You have more than two homes?”
He shrugs. “I like to travel. Which reminds me, you should probably pack a separate bag to take with us to Seattle.”
“I’m not traveling,” I argue. “I haven’t told my parents and I have to—”
“You already made a lot of decisions within the last twenty-four hours and are changing your life radically,” he finishes my sentence.
“Come with me,” he insists. “There’s plenty of room, a pool, a dog who apparently is in love with you. I’ll be working so you’ll have the house all to yourself. I think that’s better than living with your parents. Persy told me that they have zero regard for their guests and can be noisy at night.”
I squeeze my eyes and shiver remembering the times Persy caught them having sex while she was staying with them for a few days.
“Okay, I’m going for a few days,” I agree, looking at him and wondering if this is a good idea. My attraction to him is increasing, and at the moment my plate is full, and there’s no room for him to be around.
Am I doing the smart thing?
He’s a good friend. It’s not like he’s offering you an arsenal of orgas
ms while you’re in Seattle. So far, he’s been supportive about your situation, and he’s focusing on the baby.
“But before we leave, I need to talk to my parents, and I’m not driving tonight to see them.”
He grins and I stare at his lips, longing over that kiss we shared on Sunday. What if we do it just one more time before I have to become celibate for the next eighteen to twenty years?
“Tomorrow then?” he asks, taking me away from the trance.
“Can I think about it?” I ask because this might be a bad idea.
The next day, Nate arrives around six in the morning.
“Isn’t it a little too early?” I complain.
“I’m still on Eastern time,” he states. “I’ve been working for the past couple of hours.”
“Too early,” I complain. I sit on the couch and call Brock who jumps up next to me and rests his head on my lap.
“Get ready, I want to leave early,” he prompts me before heading to the kitchen.
This is what I call a real friendship with benefits. The guy is a good cook. I wouldn’t mind keeping him for a long time. Once he’s done preparing oatmeal with berries, he calls me to join him.
Today isn’t any different from any other morning this week though, I eat a little breakfast and within minutes I’m throwing up. There’s something different about the routine. This time, Nate runs after me, holds my hair and rubs my back. It feels nice, even relaxing, to have someone by my side while I feel like I’m throwing my entire life into the porcelain bowl.
When I’m done, I brush my teeth. He looks at me with such tenderness I want to hug him, but I don’t.
“You know what’s sad?”
“That my oatmeal was fucking awesome and you wasted it?” he jokes.
I laugh. “Yes.”
It is sad, but what I want to say is that I wish I wasn’t doing this alone. Not that I want Edward involved in my life but…this should feel different, shouldn’t it?
Didn't Expect You (Against All Odds Book 2) Page 12
