by A. K. Evans
“I’ll be waiting here until she returns.”
I had been looking at him, but at that statement, I had to look away. And for the entire trip through the hospital to the place I needed to go for my X-ray, I tried to figure out what was going on with Roscoe.
He said he’d had time to think.
What exactly did he mean by that? He’d already made it clear on two occasions that he wanted to support this baby financially. Was that still what he wanted to do? Or was it something more?
I didn’t want to get my hopes up because I simply could not put myself through that heartbreak again.
I went over and over it while getting my X-ray and on the way back to the triage room. And the one thing that had me coming to my senses was recognizing the relationship for what it was. Roscoe and I didn’t know anything about each other beyond a few random bits of information. We didn’t know about each other’s likes and dislikes. Hell, until just a few minutes ago, I wasn’t sure Roscoe even knew where I worked or what I did for a living.
How could I have possibly thought there’d be anything romantic between us when this had only ever been a physical attraction from the beginning?
I was back in my room, where I found not only Roscoe waiting, but also my mom and Addy.
While we waited for the results of the X-ray to come back, Addy told my mom all about her honeymoon. Addy was so animated and excited over it that it made the time pass quickly.
Before I knew it, the next doctor strolled in and said, “Hello, Sienna. I’m Dr. Hicks, and I took a look at those X-rays.”
“It’s not good, is it?”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. There is a break there, so you’re going to need to have it in a cast for about six to eight weeks. I’ll refer you to an orthopedic doctor that you’ll want to set up an appointment to visit as soon as possible. We’ll get you in a half cast here that’ll stabilize everything, but that’s not going to be a permanent solution.”
“What about work?” I asked.
“What do you do?”
“I’m a delivery driver for a shipping company,” I answered.
“You’re lifting and carrying packages?” he asked.
I nodded.
He sighed. “I would see if maybe your employer has a different task you can do for the next few weeks, but you’re definitely not going to be able to do your normal work.”
I audibly sighed. “That’s not going to be an option,” I explained.
“Maybe you can apply for disability,” he suggested.
Even if I did, disability coverage wasn’t my full pay. This was going to be a nightmare.
“Sienna?” Roscoe called.
“What?”
“I’ve got you,” he said gently.
My brows pulled together. “What? What does that mean?”
“I’ll cover whatever you need until you’re completely healed and recovered. And once you’ve gone through therapy and received clearance from your doctor that it’s okay to work again, you can go back,” he offered.
“You can’t do that,” I told him.
“Why not?”
“I… you… that’s just insane.”
“Sienna, you’re the mother of my baby,” he said, telling me something I already knew. “It’s time I stood up and did right by you.”
He couldn’t do this.
Granted, I could admit I had been stubborn when Roscoe offered to provide financial support for his baby. But doing this? Taking on all of my expenses for the next six to eight weeks was just plain crazy.
“Roscoe, I—”
“It’s done, Sienna. This isn’t up for debate. You’re going to let me take care of you,” he ordered.
Silence fell over the room before Dr. Hicks said, “Alright. So, we’re going to get you all set with that half cast and get you on your way.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Thirty minutes later, my right wrist was stabilized in a half cast and wrapped up in ace bandages. I had strict orders to call an orthopedic doctor, and ointment and a bandage had been applied to the scrape on my left palm. My blood pressure had returned to normal, and I’d been given my discharge papers.
I looked at my mom and said, “I’m going to need a ride to go get my car from work.”
“You can’t drive, Sienna,” she argued. “Look at your hands. Give me your keys, and I’ll go with your father later when he’s back from work to pick it up for you.”
“Okay. Will you take me home?” I asked.
“I’m going to take you home,” Roscoe jumped in.
I spun around to look at him. “What?”
His features softened. “Baby girl, we have to talk.”
Addy’s hand flew to her chest, and a soft gasp escaped.
Great. Just what I needed.
“Fine,” I agreed.
I reached into my purse with my left hand, gave my mom my keys, and said, “Thanks for doing this for me.”
“You’re my daughter. I’d do anything for you, and in a few more months, you’ll understand that you’ll do the same for your child,” she noted. Her eyes slid to Roscoe. “Take care of my baby.”
“I will.”
Addy stepped forward, hugged me, and said, “Call me tomorrow.”
I hugged her back as best I could, considering the limited use of my arm and promised I would.
My mom and Addy walked out ahead of us. Roscoe and I stood there for a few seconds without moving.
“You ready?” he asked.
I hesitated briefly before I replied, “Yeah.”
With that, he placed his hand at the small of my back, just like he’d done earlier to help me into the wheelchair.
Then he escorted me to the car before he drove me home. Only, I never could have prepared myself for what happened not long after we got there.
Fifteen
Sienna
It felt like déjà vu.
We pulled up to my apartment, and Roscoe was sitting behind the wheel.
Only this time, he didn’t keep his vehicle idling while he kissed me and said goodbye. Instead, he parked it, turned it off, and got out to meet me at my door to help me out.
I was trying to decide if this was better or worse than what happened the last time he drove me home. Because while this time might have appeared better on the surface since he was walking in with me, I couldn’t ignore what he said at the hospital.
Baby girl, we have to talk.
I wished I knew how it was going to go or where it would lead.
Our drive back to my apartment had been mostly silent. Other than him asking me if I was comfortable with the temperature in the car, Roscoe hadn’t said anything. I was too caught up in thinking about everything that had happened or would happen that I couldn’t also add trying to come up with a conversation topic to my endless and racing thoughts.
Roscoe stayed right by my side as we walked from his vehicle to my front door. When I pulled out my key and attempted to get it into the lock, I struggled. This was certainly going to take some getting used to.
“And here is where I become ambidextrous,” I mumbled.
Roscoe placed his hand on mine and said, “I got it.”
I let go of the key and allowed him to open the door.
Once we were inside, I moved to the living room and said, “I don’t know that I have a whole lot here, but can I get you anything to eat or drink?”
Roscoe shook his head. “I’m good.”
I began chewing on my lip.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I swallowed hard. “Well, I know you want to talk, and I’m fine with doing that. But I don’t want to be rude.”
“Honestly, Sienna, I’m good. I don’t need anything.”
“Do you mind if I eat?” I asked. “I start to feel sick if I go too long without having anything.”
“Eat,” he ordered. “We’ll talk after.”
I immediately pulled out my lunch and opened it, but I qu
ickly learned that this wasn’t going to be easy to do. I was struggling to open my reusable container that held my salad—a mix of cucumbers, tomatoes, sweet red peppers, a chopped-up stick of mozzarella cheese, and an avocado.
Roscoe noticed me struggling and took the container from me. He opened it and asked, “What else do you need?”
I reached into my lunch bag and pulled out the small container that held my honey balsamic dressing. “Could you please open this one, too?”
He opened it and handed it back to me.
I drizzled it over the salad before pulling out my fork to mix everything up. To say it was challenging learning to use a fork with my opposite hand would have been an understatement. And because I was concentrating so hard on doing that, I hadn’t looked up at Roscoe even once.
It wasn’t until I was nearly halfway through with my food, finally feeling slightly better, that I glanced up to take a drink and saw him watching me.
“Sorry,” I lamented.
He offered a small smile. “It’s okay, Sienna. I wish you would have said something sooner about needing to eat. I hate that you waited.”
After taking a sip of my water, I got back to my salad.
“So, have you always consumed healthy foods or is this something you’ve done since becoming pregnant?” Roscoe asked.
It surprised me that he was asking that question. I wasn’t quite sure why it mattered to him. Even still, I replied, “I’m not exactly a health freak or anything like that. But I definitely don’t indulge in the unhealthy stuff like I used to.”
Roscoe gave me a slight nod while eyeing me curiously. I wondered if he believed I was telling the truth. Then again, he had to know I didn’t shy away from sweet stuff. He’d walked into the kitchen at his parents’ house on more than one occasion when we were younger and saw the messes Addy and I made when we got into one of our baking challenges.
“You’re eating enough, though, right?” he pressed.
I nodded. “Yes. Of course. I’ve gained weight at every doctor’s appointment I’ve been to. And the baby is growing at just the right pace, too.”
“That’s good.”
His words indicated he approved of what I said, but it was hard to miss the relief that was mixed in his tone.
I finished eating, took another sip of my water, and said, “Okay. I should be good for at least an hour or two now.”
“Great. Do you have a duffle bag or small suitcase?”
My head jerked back. “What? For what?”
“Well, I brought you home so you could pack a bag,” he stated.
“Am I going somewhere?” I countered.
“I want you to come and stay at my place for a while,” Roscoe shared.
My brows pulled together. “You’re not being serious.”
“I am,” he insisted. “Besides, it’s not like you aren’t going to need some help for a little while, given the state of your wrist. You struggled to not only open those containers but also to eat at all. What are you going to do when you need to actually prepare food, too?”
I hadn’t really thought of that. I mean, I knew I’d be able to do it, but it was probably going to take me a lot longer than normal.
“I’ll manage,” I assured him.
“I don’t want you to have to just manage, Sienna,” he started. “You deserve better than that.”
I hesitated to respond for a long time. Where was he going with this? Why did he care so much? I realized I was carrying his baby, but that was never a factor for him before. What had changed for him?
Since he wasn’t indicating anything specific otherwise, I thought it was best to nip it in the bud.
“I can’t stay with you, Roscoe. We’re not that, and I think you know that we never will be,” I reasoned.
No way was I going to set myself up for that kind of failure.
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But we are going to be parents together, and I really want the chance to be a good father.”
My lips parted in shock as my eyes nearly fell out of my head. Complete and total disbelief was all I felt.
Was he being serious?
Roscoe must have realized that he had rendered me speechless and needed to do something about it, but I wasn’t sure what he said was the thing that would make me feel any less shock.
“I have several spare bedrooms, Sienna,” he began. “I’m not expecting you to hop into bed with me. But due to my own stupidity, I’ve missed out on weeks of this pregnancy. I don’t want to miss any more of it.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I confessed.
Roscoe reached for my good hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Please say you’ll come home with me. At least until you are healed, and the baby is born.”
“And what about after the baby is born?” I asked.
Following a beat of silence, he replied, “I don’t know. But I’m sure we can figure it out together over the next few weeks.”
I took in a deep breath and considered his request. Part of me believed I must have been crazy for giving it a second thought. But the truth was that this was his baby, and he was making an effort. He wasn’t making me promises of a future with him as my partner, but I believed he wanted to make the effort to work together for the sake of our baby.
It felt wrong to not let him try.
And if I knew what to expect going into it, I had no reason to worry that I’d wind up in a bad situation. I’d go in hoping for the best outcome for the baby, and if I got that, I promised never to ask for more.
So, I acquiesced, “Okay. I’ll stay with you at your place until the baby is born.”
The air left his lungs as the tension left his body. “Thank you, Sienna. This means a lot to me, and I hope you know that I understand the sacrifice you’re making right now. I promise not to let you regret it.”
I couldn’t do anything but return a smile.
At that, we got my things packed up.
“Sounds great. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten fifteen.”
I disconnected the call just as Roscoe entered the living room.
It was a couple of hours after he had helped me pack up some of my things to bring with me to his place. Suffice it to say, I was exhausted. Between the exhaustion I’d normally feel after a long day simply being pregnant and all the craziness that happened today, I wasn’t sure how much I had left in me.
Despite how tired I felt, I had to wonder if I was going to be able to fall asleep tonight. I was in Roscoe’s house—his gorgeous house—and I’d be in his guest room while he was sleeping in a room down the hall.
The thought crossed my mind that I’d crawl into that bed tonight and realize just how crazy I was. Because even if I wanted to do right by my baby, I wasn’t exactly convinced I was doing right by me.
Roscoe and I weren’t going to go where I would have loved for us to go. If he did as he said he was going to do and put forth the effort to be a good dad, I had a feeling I was going to end up wanting him more now than I did when I was just a teenager.
Over the next few days and in the coming weeks, I had to make sure I built a wall around my heart, or I’d be setting myself up for disaster.
“Was that the doctor for your wrist?” Roscoe asked as he sat down on the couch at the opposite end from where I was.
“Yeah. I called work first to explain the situation to them, and for now, I’m taking the rest of the week off,” I started. “I have to follow up with them after I go to the doctor tomorrow morning, and then we’ll see where things go from there.”
“Sienna, you can’t go back to work with a broken wrist unless you’re going to be sitting in an office,” Roscoe reasoned. “Even if your wrist was fine, I question just how safe it was for you to be doing what you were doing.”
“I didn’t put the baby in danger,” I assured him. “I’ve been doing this job for a long time, and I discussed it with my doctor at my very first appointment. As things progressed, we adjusted what I was doing.”
&n
bsp; “I’m not saying you put the baby in danger,” he returned. “It’s just… maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t been an asshole to you that day you came here.”
Well, I didn’t need him taking this all on his shoulders.
I let out a laugh and noted, “I’m failing to see how you being an asshole, as you call it, is the reason I stumbled over my own feet today.”
“You could have been here with me from the beginning,” he replied.
My eyes narrowed on him. “Even if that somehow happened, which I’m not sure it would have, but even if it did, I still would have had to go to work,” I explained.
He shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe you would have been unable to get up and go into work this morning because I gave you multiple orgasms all night last night.”
My body shuddered. “Don’t,” I whispered.
“What? Are you telling me that wouldn’t have been a possibility?” he asked.
Walls up, Sienna.
“Not anymore,” I lied.
Yes. I lied.
I could admit that to myself. Because I knew that if things had gone a very different way between us that day I told him about the baby we made, it absolutely was a possibility that he could have spent the entire night having sex with me and giving me multiple orgasms.
And if the way I’d been feeling lately was any indication of my desire for sexual satisfaction, it was safe to say he wouldn’t have had to work too hard to accomplish what he wanted to accomplish.
“I deserve that,” he said. “So, I guess I’ll just tell you the truth and say that if I had known you were working at that job, I would have done what I could to convince you to quit.”
“Why?”
“Do you see your wrist? Do you remember feeling any terror about whether that baby in your belly was safe?”
“Right,” I rasped, looking away.
It was so easy for him to say I should have just quit. He didn’t realize the pressure I was under to make sure I could provide for myself and the baby.
“I’m sorry, Sienna. That was out of line,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“How about some dinner?” he offered.
