by BJ Harvey
“I’m pregnant.” And just like that, the world stops spinning. His thumb rubbing against my shoulder freezes, his entire body going still.
“Breathe, Ez,” I say on a barely-there whisper. I can’t decide if it’s my voice or my knees shaking more. The rest of the room around us and the people in it vanish. All I see is him. All I hear is the roar of my thumping heartbeat in my ears, and all I feel is my inability to move from the spot I’m now cemented in.
Then I watch with a strange sense of body and mind separation as the shock and surprise wear off. It’s replaced with a new—and even scarier—steely resolve that takes over his features.
He steps in, both hands now gliding from my shoulders up to cup my face, and dips his forehead to rest against mine.
“You’re amazing.”
If I thought I was stuck before, I’m definitely frozen in place now. My mouth feels full of cotton, and I expect tears to sting my eyes, but instead, they’re bone dry, my heart stuttering in my chest. Is this some unique form of knocked-up clinical shock? Am I already going through wine withdrawal after five days? Or is this some alternate reality, and if I click my heels three times, I’ll magically teleport home to my bed and wake up?
“I guess that explains the radio silence.”
“Yeah…”
“Are you okay though? You and the baby?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” I give him a small smile and let out a sigh of relief. Maybe this might be okay…
“Good,” he breathes, straightening but not pulling away. “You didn’t have to stay away from me though. We’re in this together.”
“I know. I was in denial, and then I took a test and wham, suddenly I’m getting my head around the fact I’m eight weeks pregnant.”
His eyes widen. “Whoa. Eight weeks…” He scrubs his face with his hand. “Wow. I guess we’ve probably got a lot to talk about…”
I snort. “That’s an understatement.”
“Just know that nothing is insurmountable.” He falls silent for a moment, and I can see his mind running at one hundred miles an hour. He frowns and looks over my shoulder. Then his eyes jerk to mine, and it’s as if a light bulb goes on above his head.
“We can get married,” he rushes out. “We can do it this week. Then we can sell your house, move you into my apartment, and I can take care of you and the baby.” His absolute confidence registers somewhere in the back of my mind, but I’m stuck on the first four words.” Fucking unbelievable.
I jerk out of his hold and jump away from him. “No. It doesn’t work like that, Ez,” I growl through clenched teeth. I shake my head, staring at the beautiful, infuriating, idiotic, ignorant man standing in front of me. I have a headache coming on of the ‘my brain might just explode’ variety, and I’m hit with a sudden need to run far, far away.
The muted dim of conversation that previously filled the room is now deathly quiet, and even then, I can’t tear my eyes away from Ez.
He throws his hands up in the air. “What do you want me to say then? You’ve just told me we’re pregnant. I’m trying to do the right thing here,” he says loudly. Something snaps—the last thread of my self-control…If he wants a scene, then I aim to please.
“I didn’t tell you so you’d goddamn propose,” I screech, my voice rising. I look to the ceiling. “What’s with imbecile cavemen who think every damn woman needs saving.”
“Look, we’ll go somewhere and talk about this. I just want to be there,” Ezra says in a tone so soft and gentle, my mouth drops open. I’ve never heard him talk to anyone like that before, and it is rocking me to my core.
My walls are going up, and I don’t do anything to stop them because I’m too far gone now to be anything resembling rational. I’m in fight or flight mode, and I’m going to do the first, and then I’m going to run like hell to do the latter. “No, Ezra Kane Baker, I will not go anywhere. I’ve done what I wanted to do. I’ve told you. You know. Now, I’m going home, and I’ll email you about the next doctor’s appointment.”
Ezra’s head jerks back as Ronnie and Jax move toward us.
“You’ll email me?” Ezra says, his voice getting louder now.
“Yeah. So, you can put it in your schedule—if you want to come, that is,” I reply, my voice tight.
His mouth drops open. “If I want to?” he splutters.
A loud piercing whistle temporarily breaks the standoff. Ezra’s head jerks toward the sound, and I follow his line of sight, catching Cohen and Skye looking our way with matching concerned expressions.
“Ez, come here. Skye and I have a question for you,” Cohen says, tilting his head.
Ezra turns back to face me, his jaw set, his eyes locked on mine. “We’re not done talking about this.”
“Oh, I think we are. For today, anyway.” I take a deep breath, hoping—and failing—to calm myself down. If anything, my anger has morphed into a much more horrifying emotion—sadness.
I bite the inside of my cheek, swallow hard against the suffocating lump in my throat, and look to the roof to stop the tears from falling. Once that dam breaks, I’ll be a puffy-eyed, snotty-nosed, inconsolable mess, and no one needs to see that.
“I’ll be in contact, and we’ll discuss details pertinent to the baby as—and when—they arise,” I state, matter-of-factly as if discussing an affidavit, not a living ball of multiplying cells making its home in my womb.
An arm comes around my shoulders. “Gilly-Bear, let’s go somewhere and talk.”
With stinging eyes, I turn away from Ezra and pull Ronnie in for a hug, bringing my mouth to her ear. “I’m sorry, Ron. I’ve got to go.”
She nods and stares straight at me as I pull away. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No,” I say, my voice shaking. I just need to get out of here before I lose it. Clearing my throat, I lean in and kiss my sister’s cheek. “Stay. Enjoy yourself and celebrate this little one with your family. Come over tomorrow. I’ll answer your questions then.”
Her lips tip up on one side, but it’s half-hearted at best, and a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill over at the knowledge I’m the reason for her sad smile.
“Tomorrow, okay?” I say, sliding my hand into hers and giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.
“Okay, sweetheart. Are you okay to drive? I can get Cohen or Mr. Cook to drive you home.”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve ruined your day already. But I’ve got to get out of here.”
Understanding fills her gaze, and with one last quick hug, we pull apart.
When I turn around, Ezra isn’t there, which hurts me but also fills me with relief because right now, I’m likely to lose ground and end up married and shacked up by the end of the week. Well, it’s too late for one of those eventualities. I should’ve known a man like Ezra would have super-human swimmers, able to break through latex barriers and beat the contraceptive injection with ease.
Tomorrow is another day. Something tells me this entire situation isn’t going to be easy, but with a lifetime of experience at having to stand up for myself, I’m prepared to dig in my toes and not be moved—in more ways than one.
I know I have to stay strong and make sure Ezra Baker doesn’t steamroll right over me.
Despite my best-laid plans, there is one thought that plays through my mind on constant repeat as I make my way down the stairs and out into much-needed fresh air.
Next time, Gilly Nelson, don’t lose your cool and announce your pregnancy in a room full of your baby daddy’s closest friends and family.
One thing is for sure. There is no way anyone will forget that baby shower in a hurry. Least of all, Ezra Baker.
Ezra
“You’re an idiot,” Jax says.
“I was thinking a moron,” my sister, Faith, says, backing up her brother-in-law.
“Guys…” Faith’s husband, Bryant, says, wrapping his arm around his wife. “I don’t think that’s true.”
My head jerks back in surprise that someone is defending
me.
“Dumbass is so much more fitting, don’t you think?” he finishes.
Nope. Definitely not on my side.
Scrubbing my face with my hands, I lean forward and rest my arms on my legs. The couch cushion shifts beside me, and I look over to find Axel staring at me with his palm outstretched and a smile curving his lips. “Daddy said to come over here and make you pay for everyone swearing. He said you might pay enough for me to buy that remote-control car I want.”
I snort and shake my head. “He’s probably right,” I say, reaching out and ruffling his hair. “Will you take an IOU?”
“Do you have collateral?”
My eyes bug out, and I look up to find his father standing over him with a proud grin.
Jamie meets my gaze. “I’ll vouch for him, Ax. Why don’t you go help Aunty Faith get seated by the gift table, and we’ll start opening presents?”
“Yes,” Ax says with an excited hiss. He jumps up and grabs hold of my sister’s hand before gently tugging her across the other side of the room.
“So…” Cohen says, perching himself on the arm of the couch on the other side of me. “That’s one way to let the cat out of the bag.”
“I think it was something else that got out of the bag and into the cat, if we’re getting technical,” Skye says from Cohen’s side. Cohen grins at his girlfriend, but it does nothing to dispel the mood.
“You knew?” Jax asks Co, sounding scandalized.
I roll my eyes. “Guys, is this really important right now?”
“One would think you knocking up Gilly a very important issue,” Jax shoots back, brows narrowed on me.
“Of course it is. It’s taking everything I’ve got not to go after her and fix this,” I state.
“Don’t do that,” Bry sighs. “If there’s one thing I can tell you about the woman who just ran out of here, it’s that she does not want you to follow her right now.”
Jamie quirks a brow. “You’re an expert on pregnant women?”
“Nope. I just know what a scared woman looks like, and that’s Gilly.”
“She was sitting in her car for ages before she came inside,” Skye adds.
“She didn’t want to talk about it,” I say absentmindedly. “I pushed her. I made her tell me. She’s been quiet all week, so I knew something was wrong. I just didn’t know—”
“That you knocked her up? What is this, a modern-day immaculate conception? Jeez, Ez. What were you thinking?” Jamie asks.
“I was thinking that we’ve been on the same page for the past eight months, and now she’s gone and started a whole new book, leaving me stranded mid-chapter.” But she didn’t intend to do it—apparently, the universe had other plans for us.
“Eight months?” Bry and Jax say in unison.
Bry continues. “That means it was—”
“Around the time of my wedding.” Jax finishes his brother’s sentence.
I meet his eyes and nod.
“So, all this time?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, shit,” Jamie says, rubbing his jaw, looking across towards everyone else now gathered in a circle around a sitting Faith and Ronnie, and Ax, who’s like a jumping jackrabbit between them, handing out gifts.
“Look. Let’s get on with the afternoon, and Ez?” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “You’re probably in shock, and any other time, I’d help you process this…”
“You’re right,” I say, pushing up and standing. “This is about celebrating the next two Cook babies who are going to run these two ragged.” I flick a thumb towards the twins. Jax opens his mouth, but I beat him to the punch, looking him square in the eye. “But I’m going to do right by Gilly and the baby. You’ve known me most of your life; have I ever shirked my responsibilities?”
Jamie shakes his head.
“Exactly. Now, I don’t know about any of you, but I need a goddamn drink,” I say.
“Swear jar,” Co says. I can tell he’s trying to break the tension, and in that moment, I love him for it.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll flick Ax a twenty and put myself in credit. I’ll probably need it by the time the baby’s born.” Somehow, it’s then that it sinks in past the layer of shock clouding my consciousness. A baby… my baby. Gilly and I are having a baby.
Thirty-seven years old. Married and divorced twice. And I’m going to be a dad.
I must wear my feelings on my face because suddenly, the guys spring into action.
“Jamie, he’s going down,” Jax says.
“I’ll get him a beer,” Bry adds
“A beer won’t cut it. There’s a bottle of Jack in the top cupboard,” Jax says, and with a nod, Jamie heads to the kitchen.
“Who brings whiskey to a baby shower? To his wife’s one at that?” Cohen asks as I fall and slump back down on the couch.
“Jax does apparently,” Bryant muses.
Jax holds his hands up. “It was for us guys to celebrate the end of the flip, and I figure Bry and I deserve one after being subjected to this much estrogen all at once.”
“Hey,” Skye says, kicking out at Jax’s leg. All heads swivel to the only woman amongst us. Cohen quirks his brow. “What? I felt the need to defend the sisterhood, even if I’m the only sister here to do it.”
“The sisterhood?” Cohen asks, his lips twitching. “Fuck, you’re cute.”
Then he’s kissing her, and I turn away.
My shock at Gilly’s announcement made me act like an idiot, and it led to me totally screwing up what was an important moment in our lives. We’re having a baby. There’s nothing more important than that.
All I need to do now is figure out a way to fix what I just broke.
Four hours later, I’m sitting in my parents’ house, a beer in my hand, while Dad, Jamie, Mr. Cook, and I watch the Blackhawks play the Canucks.
I don’t even know what the score is because I can’t focus for shit.
Ever since I was a kid, I would act first, think later—or, most of the time, regret later. My mom always told me it would get me into serious trouble one day.
Then my first marriage failed, and I knew that to be true.
When it happened again with wife number two—aka the Gold Digger—I was reminded again.
That first night in Vegas with Gilly, I wasn’t looking to get laid, but she reeled me in with her satin and lace, then sealed the deal with her quick wit and sexy-as-hell charm.
But she wasn’t looking for anything, and neither was I. I always knew our arrangement would have an expiration date, and I made the most of it at every opportunity with that in mind. She’s a hard worker, slaving away for more hours than I ever did, even when I was building up my architectural consultancy firm. Despite our long hours, we’ve still managed three to four sleepovers a week. We’ve taken all precautions, and although we’ve both been monogamous, there was an understanding that when the time came, and either one of us met someone we wanted to date, we’d go our separate ways amicably.
I didn’t expect it to go on for as long as it has. I also didn’t anticipate it coming to a head at a baby shower celebration in front of our family and friends.
I knew something was up when she’d been brushing me off all week, but I shouldn’t have pushed her when she said we should talk at dinner.
But I didn’t like seeing her so out of sorts today, and coupled with her unexpected change in behavior, part of me thought she was going to end it anyway, so why delay the inevitable by dragging it out over a meal?
Then she said the two words I definitely wasn’t expecting, and I did what I’ve done since I was old enough to make my own decisions: I acted.
Then she reacted, and I stupidly kept pushing.
Later that night, I’m toying with my phone in my hand, Gilly’s last text from a week ago on screen, her Thai takeout request of all things. For once I’m lost for words. What should I say? What could one say to go some way into making things right?
“Don’t even think about it,” Jam
ie says quietly. My head snaps up, but his eyes are on the big screen. “Your phone. You’ve been spinning it around your fingers for five minutes now.”
I place the device on the arm of my chair and push out a heavy sigh. “I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Or what I was doing.”
“Are we talking about the sex, or your phone? Because I can help with the phone, but I don’t even want to know about your sex life anymore, and that’s saying something.”
“I don’t think anyone in this room wants to know about that, son,” Mr. Cook mutters from beside him. To his credit, my father just chuckles.
“Been a long time since I gave the birds and the bees talk, but I suppose it’s a father’s duty to help his son whenever he needs expert advice,” Dad says with a chuckle. “But I guess you’re going to learn all about that soon enough.”
The others snort as I drop my head back against the top of the couch with a groan. “What the hell do I do?” I ask.
“Are we still talking about sex? ’Cause it seems to me you must’ve done something right to make a baby,” Dad deadpans.
Jamie laughs. “Probably not helping, Mr. Baker.”
“Probably not. Still, good to know my boy has got it in him.”
“Lord help me,” I sigh.
“What?” Dad says. “You’re having a child, Ezra. Putting everything else aside, is that not something to be celebrated? You’re going to be a father; your mother and I get another grandchild. That’s cause for a toast in my book.”
I lift my head and look at Dad. In all my regret over the scene with Gilly, I’d forgotten one of the bright sides.
“I’ll toast you, Vincent,” Mr. Cook says, raising his glass.
“Me too,” Jamie says, following his father’s lead and holding out his bottle to tap against mine. “You may be an idiot, but you’re the best idiot I know.”
For the first time all night, I give a half-grin and turn to Jamie. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Shit. I better insult you before you start getting a complex.”
