by BJ Harvey
“Asshole,” I mutter against my beer bottle, doing it with a grin.
“Aww, you couldn’t just say I was the best asshole you know too? I’m truly hurt, Ez.”
I snort. “Shut up and take it.”
“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, sorry to say, Ez, but if you’re not watching the game, you might want to go find your mom. She’s worried about you,” Dad says.
He’s right. Mom has given me a wide berth since this afternoon’s sideshow entertainment went down, but I haven’t missed her concerned looks. Dad knows I’ll eventually get upstairs to talk things out. I’m a proud mama’s boy and always have been. I wonder if my son will be too? Or daughter? Shit. What if I have two like Abi and Cade did?
“That’s not a good look. What did you just think about? Your mom is all bark and no bite,” Dad says.
“That’s not what you’ve said in the past,” Mr. Cook mutters, and a gagging noise escapes me before I can stop it.
“Rick,” Dad warns, but it’s half-hearted at best. “Don’t think the boys here want to hear about what their fathers and mothers do behind closed—”
“I better go see Mom,” I rush out, jumping off the couch, much to the fathers’ amusement.
Jamie follows suit. “I’ll be your moral support.”
I don’t think I’ve ever left a room as fast, and I’m a man who walked in on his first wife sucking off the gardener on my kitchen floor.
Jamie moves beside me as we slowly walk up my parents’ hallway to the stairs. “Are we really going to talk to the moms?”
I frown. “Yeah,” I say, sounding like I’m saying “duh.” “My mom’s worried, and I don’t like being the cause of it. We put both of the moms through the wringer growing up. The least we can do is make it easier on them now.”
Jamie’s expression is priceless. He’s looking at me like I’m a body snatcher. “I think it was better when you were being a dumbass and proposing to your secret baby mama in front of everyone. You’re freaking me out.”
“Ha fucking ha, Cook. You’re a funny guy. No wonder Ax runs rings around you.”
“I’d argue about that, but we both know you’re right. But I guess I’m okay with that because now I can look forward to your child doing the same to you.” He chuckles and walks past me up the stairs to where our mothers are catching up on episodes of Real Housewives of God Knows Where.
Watching him go, I’m frozen in place because shit. Damn. Oh my God. He’s right.
Jamie stops at the top of the stairs and grins down at me, his expression faltering. “Ez?”
I stare blankly up at him. “I’m having a baby.”
“Uh yeah…”
“Me. Ezra. I’m going to be a dad.”
“Ez, is this some delayed shock setting in? Do I need to get you shit-faced?” He tilts his head as if studying me.
“I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do.” I lock my knees ’cause they’re far from steady, the events of the day coming at me hard and fast. “I don’t want to be raising a kid and not seeing them every day, feeding them, playing with them, being with them.”
Jamie frowns. “Okay…” he says slowly. “So how is that going to work when you and Gilly aren’t together like that?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t help things by being an idiot today. ”
“Speak without thinking.”
“That too.”
“So, what are you going to do differently this time? How are you going to get you and Gilly to a place where you’re both happy and have what you want?”
I look straight at him, and then it hits me. “I’m going to prove it to her.”
“What?”
“Instead of telling her what I want, I’m going to show her. I don’t have to marry her to do the right thing by her. I’ve just got to be there.”
“And…”
“I’ll show her how it could be. I’m gonna baby daddy her so hard.”
A slow-growing smile curves his lips, and there’s approval in his eyes. “Maybe you’re not such a lost cause after all,” he says. “Now, let’s go put Mama Baker’s mind at ease, and then we’ll try and catch the third period of the game and watch the Hawks kick Canuck ass.”
Then he disappears from sight.
I take the stairs two at a time, trying to catch up with him. “Wait. I’m not a lost cause!”
I’ve got seven or eight months to prove it to both Gilly Nelson and myself. I’m not going to screw up this time because I don’t want to.
For me, for her, and especially for our kid, failure isn’t an option.
This is going to be the most important project I’ve ever embarked on, and I’m going to make it count.
Gilly
“So…” Ronnie says, cradling a cup of Rooibos tea in her hands, breaking the weird, somewhat awkward silence that’s fallen between us. We’re sitting on opposite ends of my big, comfy corner couch, snuggled under matching chunky grey woolen blankets since it’s ten below outside.
Jax dropped her off twenty minutes ago with a brown bag full of goodies and a smile. Amongst the supplies she brought was the tea—which apparently is caffeine-free and is full of antioxidants.
“You and Ezra…”
“Yes?” You want the dirt; you’re going to have to work for it.
She lets out a huge sigh and narrows her eyes at me over the top of her cup. “Jax says it’s been going on since Vegas?”
I nod. “And it’s been a regular… thing?” she asks. I snicker at the sour lemon expression she’s sporting.
“What’s that look for? I’m allowed to have sex. You and Jax go at it like rabbits, and I know this because you tell me you do.”
She shrugs, a coy smile playing on her lips. “It’s just… strange.”
I take a sip of my drink. “What’s done is done. Ez and I hooked up the night before your wedding, which we didn’t know was the night before your wedding, but we clicked.”
“Then you really clicked,” she says, looking down to the blanket covering my soon-to-be-huge stomach.
“Yeah, we did,” I say with a laugh.
“So, where do you guys go from here? You’re having a baby together. He freaked out and totally had verbal diarrhea yesterday, announcing it to everyone probably before you wanted to. What’s going to happen with you two?”
Isn’t that the million-dollar question. I meet her questioning gaze. “I don’t know. I definitely don’t want to get married to the guy just because he got one past the goalie.”
She rubs her bump. “There’s definitely something in the water these days. Three babies coming in the family.”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“Have you heard from him since yesterday?”
“No. But honestly, I’m still trying to get my own head around it, and I’ve known for a week. If he needs time to process, that’s okay. I know Ezra will do right by me. He’s a great guy.”
“He must be if you’ve been secretly screwing him for months.”
I arch a brow. “Would it really have made a difference if we’d told everyone? Ez told me he told Cohen in December.”
“Is it just sex?”
“Yes and no. Are we together? No. Do I want to be with him? We’re friends. It’s always been friends with really freaking good benefits. I work too hard and too much to even contemplate anything else.”
“And what about him?”
“Well, I don’t think he meant to propose a City Hall marriage yesterday. He’s a good guy who thought it was what needed to happen to do right by me. I’m totally not looking to trap him into any kind of relationship just for the sake of our baby, even if he is a successful, stable, hot and insanely good-in-bed guy.”
Ronnie beams are me. “Aww, my sister is getting insanely good sex. I just knew the guy had B.D.E.”
My head jerks back. “You’ll have to explain the millennial lingo for me. B.D.E?”
“Big dick energy.”
“Well, he definitely knows how to
use it to plant a baby in me.”
“Jax and Bry have B.D.E. too,” she says.
I nod. “Us old folk would just say they had swagger. That they were cocky even, but low-level cocky.”
“Well, they’re definitely that too. Have you heard them and their macho Ken versus GI Joe spiel? It’s hilarious.” She shakes her head and giggles, making me laugh too. Once we calm down, Ronnie’s eyes soften as she looks over at me. “Gilly-bear is having a baby,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
Then she sits up, almost spilling her tea, but recovering in time. “Oh my God. You won’t need Lamaze class because you get to experience childbirth live in the room with me.”
“I’m actually scared now.”
She waves me off. “Pfft. You won’t be the one going through it first. You can watch and learn from everything I’m going to do wrong; then you’ll know all the good drugs to ask for when it’s your turn. Faith is going to be there too.”
“Does she want to scare the baby out early or what?” I ask. “Because right now, just the thought of squeezing a watermelon out of a hole the size of a golf ball is terrifying.”
Ronnie’s lips twitch. “A golf ball? Damn. I should clap Ezra on the back the next time I see him.”
I roll my eyes but snort while I’m doing it.
“Have you told Sheila and Keith?” Ronnie says.
“Not yet,” I say. “Obviously, I’ll have to tell them.”
She grins. “It’s not like you’re going to be able to hide it in a few months.”
“Exactly. Right now though, I’m getting my own head around it, and I don’t need Mom telling me how scandalous it is to be an unwed thirty-five-year-old single mom, or our darling Dad diverting the good cases off my desk to ‘reduce stress.’”
Ronnie rolls her eyes. “And we both know that’s exactly what he’d do. You’re his daughter; he won’t even think twice about using the ‘you’re too emotional’ line as justification either.”
“You’re right. But as an equity partner, I have a seat at the table now. He both loves and hates that.”
Ronnie swings her legs down to the floor and leans over to put her cup on the coffee table. She scoots forward and places her hand on my arm, sliding it down to lace her fingers with mine. “It’s going to be okay, Gilly.”
I blink away the sudden onset of tears filling my eyes. What the hell is this? PMS on crack for the next seven months?
“Of course it is,” I say, squaring my shoulders and grinning at her while the stupid pregnant lady tears fall. I squeeze her hand. “I’ve got my favorite sister to give me all her ‘how to survive pregnancy’ tips and tricks.”
“Yep. Lesson number one: sort things out with the baby daddy.”
“He needs to come to me.”
“He will,” she says without any hesitation. “If you were going to get knocked up with an oops baby by anyone, Ezra Baker would be in the top five, for sure.”
My head jerks. I quirk a brow. “Top five?”
“The four Cook brothers and the bonus brother from another mother, Ez.”
A giggle escapes me before I burst out laughing. “You do know… that is the most ridiculous… thing… you’ve ever said…” I wheeze.
She shrugs and smirks. “At least it’s redirected your crazy first-trimester hormone hurricane.”
“Right?” I reply. “Like what’s that about? I cried this morning when I turned a white shirt pink with my favorite pair of red underwear. It’s a freaking shirt, for Christ’s sake!”
“Oh, Gilly-bear. Just you wait. I absolutely lost it in the drive-through at McDonald’s because they gave me the wrong sauce. I raged, then I cried, and I was inconsolable until Jax parked, went inside, and returned with a selection of every single type of sauce they had.”
My brows are near on touching my hairline. “You’re joking?” I gasp.
She shakes her head and sighs. “Nope. Jax looked terrified and confused as to where his Barbie had gone and who the Disney villain was in her place. If I weren’t so hangry at the time, I would’ve laughed.”
“You know you’ve got a good man when he doesn’t run for the hills—or at least the nearest bar—when you’re raging.”
Ronnie’s expression morphs into a dreamy, almost sickeningly soft glaze. If we were a cartoon, she’d be dressed in head-to-toe pink and surrounded by baby critters dancing around her.
“You’ve gone soft, Nelson,” I say, nudging her elbow.
“Just you wait. Ez might surprise you. Maybe it’ll be you all ginormously pregnant with swollen ankles and swollen other bits, and he’ll be your hot guy helping you do all the things you can’t do since you’ll be unable to bend over or see anything past the huge basketball pushing your bits to and fro.”
“You do it beautifully, Ronnie. You’re glowing.”
“If glowing means being a big blob fed by fear, anticipation, eating anything and everything and getting nightly foot massages. Then yeah, I’m glowing,” she says with a smirk. “But make sure whatever agreement/arrangement/semblance of a relationship you have with Ez includes guaranteed foot rubs.”
“Okay…”
“Then maybe you’ll be all googly-eyed and in lurve by the time you’re eleventy-months pregnant like me.”
I love Ronnie’s optimism, but Ez and I aren’t like that, and I don’t want to change for the baby, or for the sake of making a family.
“Don’t hold your breath,” I murmur, lifting my now lukewarm tea to my mouth.
“Watch this space, Gilly Nelson. Ezra Baker is going to knock your socks off. I can feel it in my bones.”
“That’s your mini-Ken in there trying to get out.”
She pins me with a stare. “Just you wait. I’m feeling good things.”
“That is definitely your hormones talking,” I muse, moving to my feet. “Now I’m hungry, and we’re both growing another human. How about I fix us some snacks, and we watch a movie?”
“Sounds good.”
“And while you’re at it, grab your phone. Just in case someone tries to call you… or something,” she mutters.
I send her a wry smile. “Forever the optimist, huh?”
“He’ll call, Gilly.”
And a newly pregnant, freaking-out-slightly-less-now woman waits…
Ezra called me Monday lunchtime, but I missed the call. He followed that with a text message asking if he could take me out for dinner to talk.
Instead, I suggested he come over to my place since morning sickness has turned into all-day sickness, and I can’t imagine anything worse than barfing up a nice dinner in a fancy restaurant’s bathroom.
Proving he’s a good man, Ezra said he’d bring takeout.
Which brings me to now—my hand resting on the handle and taking a deep, fortifying breath in, while my nerves threaten to take over and my stomach lurches like it wants to jump ship.
He knocks again, and I give myself a quick pep talk before swinging the door open and coming face-to-face with the gentle-eyed, wary Ezra, a divine-smelling brown paper bag in his hand.
“Hey,” he says.
I move back and sweep my arm out awkwardly. “Hi. Come in.” Why is this so weird?
He wordlessly steps inside. He leans in to give me a kiss like he always does, but I freeze—which never happens. He doesn’t say anything about it though. He just rubs my arm and walks past me into my kitchen.
This is so strange. This isn’t anything we haven’t done a hundred times before. Why am I making this difficult?
I stand on the opposite side of the counter from him, my entire body stiff as a board as he begins pulling plastic containers of food out of the bag.
“I didn’t know what to get you, or what you could eat now that you’re…” He glances up to meet my eyes.
“Pregnant…” I say slowly, earning a guilty smile.
“Yeah.” He looks back down to the takeout. “So, I’ve got chicken and vegetarian options. I asked for no MSG, and it was
all made fresh.” He’s rambling. It’s adorable, and I’m compelled to put him at ease even though that’s the complete opposite of what I’m feeling.
I reach out and place my hand on his arm. “Ez, breathe.”
He meets my eyes, and I pull my hand back. “Sorry. It’s not the situation. I’m totally onboard with it, with everything. It’s just—”
“A shock. Believe me, I know.”
His shoulders sag, and he huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. I guess you do.”
“So how about we both try to relax and take our plates into the living room. Then we can talk—if you want. Or we can just sit there in silence while trying to imagine how the next seven or so months are going to play out.”
“More like eighteen years.”
I grin, because he may have run his mouth off yesterday—we both did—but as far as baby daddies go, I could’ve done so much worse.
“Why don’t you go sit down, and I’ll bring the food in?” I say.
“Or,” he says, that Ezra Baker confidence I find super-sexy making a much welcome reappearance, “you can go sit down, and I’ll bring everything in because you’re the one doing the hard work in this scenario. My part was easy.”
I bite my lip and arch a brow. “Easy?”
“I mean… not that you’re easy. It’s just—”
“Relax, Ez. I’m messing with you.” His eyes narrow, and I just know if this was any other night and there wasn’t a giant—well, pea-sized—elephant in the room, I’d be flat on my back on the floor or the table in the blink of an eye. My sass and smart mouth are what flicks his switch. That, and any hint of satin or lace through my clothes. He’s an intriguing man, one I’ve enjoyed unraveling during the past eight months while we’ve been sleeping together.
Now everything is different, yet it feels strangely the same.
Ezra’s lips slowly curve up into a devilish grin. “You know how I feel about you messing with me.”
I point a finger at him and try to put on my sternest face. “Nuh-uh, mister. You’ve already done the deed, and we’ve got a lot to talk about. There’s no time for your smoldering looks and sexy smirk.”
“I’ll remind you of this moment. February second. The first time Gilly Nelson ever turned me down.”
