Working For It

by BJ Harvey

  Sheila holds her martini glass in the air, her lips pursed. “And look at you now. You have a successful career, you have your own home, and other than the lack of a husband, you’ve achieved everything we ever hoped you would.”

  The pressure in my head throbs against my temples. I flex my fingers gently over my bump, the faint fluttering deep inside giving me the courage I need to drop the bomb and wait for the anticipated reaction. Wait. Isn’t fluttering the baby moving? Why couldn’t our son pick a more opportune time for this huge milestone!

  “I’m pregnant. It’s a boy. And I’m very happy,” I blurt out, the fighter in me jumping into the fray and throwing the first punch.

  I look between my parents. Sheila gasps far louder than expected from an ice queen. Keith grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw ticking like a timer counting down to detonation.

  “Being a Nelson has obligations, Gillian. That does not include sullying our family name by becoming a single mother,” Sheila says, her voice low in warning. From the disdain and disgust painted all over her face, you’d think I’d just told her I was a drug dealer. “Your sister has always been the one to do her own thing and fight against everything we’ve ever wanted for her, but you, Gilly—not you. You’ve always done everything asked of you, everything expected.” I shake my head, wondering why I ever held out hope that maybe—just maybe—my parents might have an unanticipated reaction and actually surprise me.

  “But this is not you,” she continues, waving her hand in the air. “Unwed and having a baby? You’re just making strides in your career, and now you’re going to throw it all away? For what?”

  “Sheila…” my father cautions, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother clutch her pearls any faster. She snaps her head towards her husband, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

  “I’m sorry, Keith, but you can’t say you approve of this mess. At least Ronnie was married when she got pregnant.”

  “You’re making a scene,” he grinds out. I’ve seen this man cross-examine a witness into a sniveling mess, and even that was less menacing that his demeanor right now.

  Sheila’s eyes widen, and she huffs before snapping her mouth shut. Her gaze drops to her empty glass on the table in front of her. She fidgets with the cutlery, and for a brief moment, I’m feeling sorry for her and a huge amount of appreciation for the equality Ezra and I have in our relationship. Then I remember all the manipulation and control they exerted over me growing up, even through college.

  “And the father?” Keith asks. I meet his eyes, and they spear right through me.

  “His name is Ezra, and we—”

  “Wait,” Sheila says. “You said that name before. He’s the architect.”

  I nod, surprised she remembered that. “Yes. He owns an architectural consulting firm and works with Jax and his brothers.”

  “And what are his intentions?” my father says. “Is he going to do right by you and the child by marrying you?”

  “Let me get this straight. Your issue is not just that I’m pregnant—thanks for the congratulations, by the way,” I say, and my mother’s gaze snaps up to mine. “The fact I’m pregnant and not on my knees, begging a man to take care of me is the biggest issue for you?” I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table.

  “News flash: I’m an adult, which means I should be able to live my life without actually being worried how my own parents will react when I tell them I’m giving them a grandson.”

  My father’s eyes flash, but my mother’s gasp grabs my attention.

  “We gave you everything,” Sheila hisses.

  “Sometimes children don’t want everything. They just want one thing—unconditional love.”

  My father’s jaw clenches tight, and I almost wonder if I’ve hit a nerve.

  “We never had it at home, so Ronnie and I went out looking for it. Ronnie found hers with Jax and serendipitously, I’ve found mine with Ezra.”

  “Breathe, sweetheart,” Ezra murmurs from behind me. I jump in my seat, spinning around and looking up with tears of relief threatening to fall at the sight of that very strong, kind, breathtaking man at my back.

  “How did you—?” I also catch sight of Jax walking—and Ronnie waddling—toward us. I close my eyes, sinking my teeth into my lip and trying to stop myself from turning into a blubbering mess. In that moment, it hits me like a freight train. Family is not just by blood—it can be the people you choose and the person you accidentally make a baby with. I have the power to make sure that our son does not have any of the toxic, imperious, deceptive manipulation in his life that my parents turned into a fine art from the moment I was born.

  Obviously not caring where we are or bothering to introduce himself to Keith and Sheila—who don’t deserve the courtesy—Ezra leans down, cradles my jaw in that way I love, and gives me a soft kiss. He rests his forehead to mine and stares into my eyes. “I said I’d always have your back. I just need to know when I should be having it,” he murmurs, and I don’t miss the inference. He straightens but doesn’t lose contact, sliding his hand down and placing it gently on my shoulder.

  Buoyed by having my family—my real family—behind me, I turn back to Sheila and Keith, both of them switching their gaze between a twenty-months pregnant Ronnie and myself.

  “I’m not going to let you ruin this for me. Because if you do…” I spear them both with a scathing stare, “…I’ll be as dead to you as Ronnie is. You won’t know me, the man I’m falling in love with, or our child, your grandson,” I say, looking over at Ronnie and Jax, Ronnie’s eyes blazing with pride. “They will never even know you exist.”

  Ezra’s hand smooths down my arm, and he brings his mouth to my ear. “I’m calling time, baby mama.” His voice is low, rough, and full of something I can’t quite pinpoint. Whatever it is, it’s not bad. Definitely not bad, but it is done. I recognize it because Jax had to do the same thing all those months ago when Ronnie took him to our parents’ house to introduce him, and they pulled their typical crap and spoke down to her—and him.

  Ezra removes his hand. I turn my head to look at him, meeting blazing eyes full of fierce warmth I feel course through me like a hot knife through butter.

  Sliding my chair back, I stand, not missing my mother’s eyes jumping straight to the “bunched” fabric around my waist.

  “As always, there was absolutely no pleasure at all, Sheila.” I turn toward my father. “Keith, I’ll arrange a meeting with you this week. As you can imagine, there is a lot to discuss now.”

  He stares straight at me, his expression indecipherable.

  “I’ll set it up with Suzy.” I nod and reach my hand behind me, my heart jumping when Ezra’s fingers slide between mine and give me a reassuring squeeze.

  “I’ll leave you to your meal,” I say before turning around and looking between Ezra, Ronnie, and Jax. “Let’s go.”

  With his hand resting against the small of my back, Ez leads me out of the restaurant, nodding at the porter as we walk out the front door toward my car, which is waiting for us. I breathe out a sigh of relief. Can he get any better?

  Once I’m settled in the passenger seat of my car, Ez closes me in and rounds the hood, opening the driver’s door and sliding behind the wheel. “Let’s get you home, and then I can take care of you.”

  “Okay.”

  He nods and starts the engine, soon pulling out of the driveway and into traffic.

  I chew the inside of my cheek, clutching my hands in my lap as I wait for Ez to say something—anything—about me meeting my parents alone or for thinking it would go any differently to any other time.

  “Are you mad at me?” he asks, breaking the silence.

  I turn in my seat to face him. “No. Why would I be annoyed at you? You saved me.”

  “You saved yourself. Although not from a hostile work environment on Monday, I’m guessing,” he says, his lips twitching as he turns back onto the freeway. “I was expecting you to ream me out for being all overprotective again
.”

  I reach over and rub his arm. “God, no. I should never have taken them on alone. Ronnie told me not to, but I thought I could handle them. I’ve been doing it my whole life and deflecting their barbs from Ronnie too, but I didn’t anticipate my inner angry mama bear coming out.”

  “You have no idea how hot that was, by the way.”

  My head jerks back. “How is that hot? I lost my cool and probably ripped my parents’ public persona to shreds. Oh God, I can imagine the gossip and Chinese whispers that will be going around now. Gilly Nelson is—gasp—knocked up to a—”

  “Tall, dark, and handsome architect she’s falling in love with.”

  My breath stutters as my chest seizes, my entire body going still as his words register in my brain. Why would he say tha—oh, shit.

  “You won’t know me, the man I’m falling in love with, or our child.”

  I clamp my mouth shut and sneak a glance at him. A sly grin curves his lips.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll wait till you’re ready to tell me yourself,” he says gently, squeezing my knee affectionately before grabbing the wheel again as we fall into unnerving silence. Feeling awkward and off-kilter, I’m compelled to change the subject to get back on solid ground.

  “Will your parents adopt me?” I blurt out.

  Ez snorts. “What?”

  “I suddenly find myself without some of my own, and I think yours like me—well, they did before I let you knock me up—but I’m charming. I’m sure I can win them over again.”

  Ezra stares at me like I’ve lost mind. Not that improbable. “Fuck.”

  “What? Do they really not like me? I’m stubborn when I want to be. I promise I won’t stop until they love me.”

  “They’d appreciate your dedication to the cause, even if it is somewhat unnecessary.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they like you.”

  “Really?”

  He scrunches his forehead. “Yeah. Of course they do.”

  My inquisitive nature takes over, the previous awkwardness all but forgotten—for now. “Why?”

  His head jerks. “Why do they like you?”

  “We haven’t even invited them over for lunch or dinner or anything yet. Wait, should we have? I mean, last time I saw them was the baby shower, and we kind of made a scene, so that might’ve left them with a bad impression of me.”

  “Sweetheart, relax. You’re so uptight.” He gently kneads my leg.

  “Well, yeah. Of course I am.”

  “You need to unwind,” he says calmly like it’s that easy.

  “Mm-hmm,” I say, distracted by his hand massaging my skin.

  “Maybe I’ll run you a bath when we get home.”

  “Uh-huh…”

  “You’re totally relaxing now, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe…”

  “Mission accomplished then,” he says.

  I lean my head against the headrest, my eyes lazily roaming his profile. “You’re far too calm and easy-going.”

  He chuckles. “Maybe I’m the yin to your yang.”

  “Or the mac to my cheese,” I say, earning an amused shake of his head.

  “You and pasta,” he muses. “Our son will probably come out of the womb demanding carbs.”

  “Oooh, now I’m hungry.”

  He tilts his head slightly and quirks a brow. “You haven’t eaten?” All amusement is now gone.

  “I kind of lost it before the starters arrived.”

  “Looks like I’m cooking you dinner and giving you a foot rub then.”

  That gets my attention. “Did you forget about the bath? You can’t promise an irrational pregnant woman a night of relaxation and not follow through. That’s called false advertising, mister.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Whatever m’lady wants, she shall get.”

  I bow my head. “Thank you, baby daddy.”

  My phone starts ringing in my purse. I pull it out and see my sister’s name on the screen. “I better answer it, or she’ll want to do a welfare check.”

  My handsome driver smiles and moves his hand off my leg, gripping the steering wheel in both hands. “You do that. And by the way, we’ve got a get-together at Mom and Dad’s this week so you can commence ‘Operation Win Them Over’ then.”

  My brows nearly hit my hairline they shoot up so fast, my mouth wide I’m surprised my bottom lip isn’t touching my chest.

  Ezra’s shoulders start shaking, and my phone stops ringing then straight away starts up again. He sneaks a side-glance my way, nodding to my hand. “You better get that.”

  I glare at him. “This discussion is not over.”

  “I don’t suppose it is,” he replies calmly. “Then again, with a bath, a full belly of baby and pasta, and a foot rub for dessert, I like my chances of you forgetting all about this conversation by the end of the night.”

  “Highly unlikely.”

  “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” he says, sounding far too cocky for his own good.

  “Gilly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Answer your phone, sweetheart.”

  “So damn bossy,” I mutter, accepting the call and lifting the handset to my ear, but not before he has the last word.

  “You love it. And in case you want to know, I’m falling for you too.”

  Universe, it’s me, Gillian Eve Nelson. Send help, because I’m totally screwed. And by screwed, I mean deliriously happy.

  But for the love of God, please let Ezra have a flaw or two. I’m starting to get a complex.

  Ezra

  I’m nervous as I pull my car into my parents’ driveway, but Gilly is happily singing along to Taylor Swift on the radio.

  Over the years, there have not been many women I’ve brought home to meet my parents. My two ex-wives notwithstanding, there has been only one other girlfriend to walk the gauntlet. Gilly isn’t just a girlfriend to me though—she’s more. So, I’m not sure what I’ll do if things don’t go well.

  Sure, Mom and Dad have briefly met Gilly as they’ve attended the same family gatherings, but I can’t recall them having one-on-one conversations.

  Gilly can’t wait. She’s gone all out, too, taking forever to get ready and making us late by walking out in a new fitted maternity dress that hugs her growing bust, curvy hips, and rounded mini-basketball bump. The moment I saw the dress, I was speechless. When I dropped down her legs to her strappy sandals, I was half-hard. When she turned around and slowly bent over, giving me a mouth-watering eyeful of the stockings and garters she knows drive me crazy, it was on.

  Fifteen minutes and two screaming orgasms later, I helped her clean up and left her to fix her hair and makeup before we walked out the door, half an hour late.

  I turn off the engine and look over to the passenger side. “You ready?”

  Gilly touches my arm, making me jump like a jackrabbit.

  “Whoa. You’re wound up tighter than a virgin’s cooch.”

  My mouth drops open. If I ever doubt Ronnie and Gilly are related, that vanishes when shocking sayings like that come out of her sinful lips.

  I lean my cheek against the headrest and chuckle, meeting her amused eyes. She mirrors my position and looks straight at me.

  Her thumb grazes over my cheek. “You’re kind of hot when you’re all jittery.”

  “I’m not jittery.” Her mouth curves into a smile as she rubs her finger over my dimple.

  “It’s kind of cute too.”

  My lips twitch at that, my slow-growing grin impossible to fight.

  Her gaze drops lazily down my face as she shifts forward in her seat and brings her nose to rub against mine. “I hope our son gets your dimples. I think I like them the best.”

  “Stop being so damn sweet.”

  She scrunches you her nose. “Stop being so damn silly. I’m supposed to be nervous, not you.” She inches back slightly. “I mean, they already know I’m pregnant since we announced it oh so discreetly, and anyone who doesn’t know I’m knocked up is
going to know the minute they see me. So calm down before I have to take matters into my own hands…” Her palm glides up my thigh, “…and use my tried and true method of relaxing you.”

  Her fingers move in, and I jerk my arm to halt her progress. The corner of her mouth tilts into a knowing smile. “It may have been a while, but I very much doubt you’ve gone off the sight of me on my knees…”

  I shake my head and smirk at her. “Okay then, smarty-pants. Why are you so relaxed?”

  She shrugs and reaches for the handle, pushing her door open. “Oh, that’s easy. You already calmed me right down.” She holds up her fingers. “Twice.”

  Then I’m watching her ass get out of my car, the dress, her legs, and the torture of knowing what’s underneath it providing enough of a distraction that I’m so busy perving—and chuckling at Gilly getting the upper hand again—that all the tension I’ve been holding on to disappears.

  Then I’m following her to the front stairs and helping her up them, and I don’t even remember why I was wound up to begin with.

  Well played, baby mama. Well played.

  “Hey, Baker,” Cohen calls out from behind us. We both turn around to see him and Skye crossing the lawn from Mr. and Mrs. Cook’s house and walking our way.

  “What? Don’t I get a cool name like the rest of them?” I ask with a smirk.

  “What special names?” Skye asks as she comes to a stop next to us. “What did you get, Cass?”

  Gilly looks completely confused. “Why Cass?”

  “Casanova. He was a total player before he fell for my wily charms,” Skye explains. Cohen chuckles, and Gilly shakes her head.

  “I bet all five of the guys got their fair share of women in their formative years.”

  “Hey,” I say, acting offended. “I was a good boy.”

  Her eyes narrow on my twitching lips. “Oh, I bet you were. So good that all the girls wanted a piece of it.”

  “Wanted a piece of what?” my mom asks behind our backs.

  Cohen and I freeze in place, whereas Skye and Gilly giggle, the latter turning around to face my mother. “Mrs. Baker. A pleasure to see you again. That dress is stunning.”