by Kate, Jiffy
Charlotte gave up her baby, but she was eighteen and felt like it was the best thing she could do for both the baby and herself. I have to agree with her. Eighteen-year-old Charlotte was still finding herself, and even though I know she would’ve found her way and been a good mother, I believe she did the right thing.
But once you have a baby and you’re a part of its life, how do you walk away?
Placing my hand on my stomach, I rub a small circle, silently promising I’ll never do that. I couldn’t. I already love this baby too much.
Our waiter from earlier shows back up with a bag, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Almost forgot your shirt,” he says with an apologetic expression. “Sorry about that.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say, taking the bag. “I did too.”
He shifts awkwardly on his feet and for a second, I think he’s waiting to be paid, but then I remember Ross paid him earlier when he brought out our beignets. Leaning down closer to the table, he drops his voice to a whisper, like he’s making a drug deal. “This is probably a stupid question, but are you Ross Davies?”
Ross clears his throat, keeping his head down and giving a small nod.
“Can you sign my order pad?” the waiter asks, sliding it and a pen over to Ross. “I promise I won’t say anything until y’all are gone. But I’m a huge fan… huge.”
Taking the pad, Ross signs his name to the top page, then flips it and signs a few more.
“Thanks for not saying anything,” Ross says, handing it back to the waiter. “And thanks for supporting the Revelers. We appreciate it.”
The waiter beams as he puts the pad back in his apron pocket. “Thanks for being so cool, man. And I hope y’all kick Tampa Bay’s ass this week.”
To his credit, he doesn’t even look back as he walks away… or break into a happy dance.
I can’t help but smile as I glance back over at Ross. “You just made that guy’s night.”
Ross chuckles, shaking his head. “Let’s get out of here.”
Taking my hand as we walk out, he lifts it to his lips and kisses the back of it before tucking it close to his chest. Like earlier, I feel like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. We walk in silence to a bench that’s down the sidewalk as Ross pulls out his phone.
“The Uber will be here in three minutes,” he says as we stand on the outskirts of Jackson Square.
I lean into his arm, think about how much I love the way I feel when I’m with him—wanted, needed, cherished. Closing my eyes, I try to commit this night to memory. The warm New Orleans night and just the two of us.
“Thanks for our first date,” I tell him, squeezing a little tighter as he rests his chin on the top of my head, pulling me closer.
I hope what I’m feeling is real.
And I hope, one day soon, he lets down his walls and allows me inside, completely.
Because when I let down mine, I can see forever with him.
The drive back to his house is quiet. I think, now that my craving has been satisfied, the exhaustion is setting in. Ross has the driver let us out at the small gate for foot traffic and we walk hand-in-hand up the sidewalk.
As he’s putting in the code to the gate, I can’t help the huge yawn.
“How many naps will this require for full recovery?” he asks, looking down at me with a smile I’ve come to love. It’s one he doesn’t give to anyone else but me… it’s soft and sincere, a hint of teasing, but packed with so much warmth it makes my insides melt.
I bite my lip, like I’m calculating. “Depends. Is that after-beignet sex still on the table?”
Ross’s gaze turns from playful and light to heated and needy. “Sex with you is always on the table… speaking of, how do you feel about literal sex on the table?”
Feeling a blush creep up my neck and spread to my cheeks, I swallow.
“Sex… on the table… that could be good.”
Who am I kidding? Sex on any surface with Ross would be amazing.
He chuckles, kissing the top of my head as we make our way to the front door. Unlocking it, he ushers me inside and relocks the door behind us, setting the alarm. When he turns and finds me watching him, his eyes drop to my lips and the next thing I know I’m pushed up against the wall in the foyer. Ross’s hands are in my hair, pulling at the messy bun until it falls around us. His mouth is devouring mine, like he’s a starving man… tasting of sugar and a hint of coffee.
“God, Case.” He moans my name, sending a bolt of need to my core. “I’ve been wanting to do that ever since we left the house.” When his lips begin to trail down my neck, I tangle my fingers in his hair, loving the way I can feel his hardness pressed against me.
“Take me to bed.”
Chapter 25
Ross
“Hey, babe, I have the laptop set up. You ready to chat with my parents?”
The use of an endearment, like babe, just rolling off my tongue kind of catches me off guard. But when Casey walks into the living room carrying coffee mugs for us, she doesn’t seem bothered by it. I probably shouldn’t either. It feels right. Everything with her feels right, even though my brain is still trying to find the warning signs—anything that flashes in bright red, telling me this is going to end badly.
Did I miss those with Felicia?
Did our relationship have red flags I ignored?
Glancing back over at Casey, she gives me a small, nervous smile, and the only thing I see is the woman I’m starting to fall so hard for… and the mother of my unborn child. She doesn’t know about these thoughts I’ve been having for the past few weeks. The ones where I picture her leaving me… taking the baby… leaving me and the baby. I have Owen Thatcher to thank for this new train of thought. Ever since he showed up and we had our heart-to-heart, I can’t help but think about all of these new what-ifs.
“Are you sure you want to do this over Skype?” Casey asks, pulling one of the decorative pillows into her lap, probably as a decoy.
Telling my parents in person would be my preferred method, but since that can’t happen, this is the next best option. At least it’s better than a phone call.
While I’m adjusting the laptop and connecting the call, Casey picks up her coffee and takes a sip, savoring it like it’s a lifeline.
“It’s going to be fine, trust me,” I tell her, squeezing her hand.
She gazes at me with those deep brown eyes of hers and I realize how ironic those last two words are coming out of my mouth. Here I am telling her to trust me, wanting her to trust me, when I can’t even offer her the same courtesy.
I’m an asshole.
An asshole who wants to fix it and make it all better, but before I get a chance, my mom and dad’s faces appear on the screen. They both give us a big smile and wave and I notice something. They’re sitting next to each other on the couch, coffee mugs in hand, just like Casey and I are. It’s a small thing but somehow it feels like a sign from the universe.
You’re not screwing up.
This is right.
She’s the one.
“Good morning,” I say, reaching an arm behind Casey’s back and pulling her a little closer.
If my mom and dad notice our proximity, they don’t say anything.
“Good morning, Honey,” my mom says with a warm smile. “And, Casey, it’s so good to see you. How are you, dear?”
“I’m good, thanks.” I feel her relax a bit, like she’s reminded that my parents love her and this is going to be okay. “How are you?”
“Oh, good,” my mom says. “Just happy to see your two smiling faces this morning. I was just telling Jack I can’t remember the last time we Skyped. Ross tends to hate technology, so this must’ve been your influence.”
She and my dad laugh like they’re sharing an inside joke and I roll my eyes.
If they only knew.
“No,” Casey says quickly, picking up her coffee mug and taking a sip as she settles into the conversation. “It actually wasn’t my idea. It’s all Ross. He
said since the two of you couldn’t come this month like you’d planned, this is the next best thing.”
My dad leans a little closer to the camera, like he’s telling a secret. “Well, just so you know, you’re a good influence on him.”
Casey chuckles nervously and covers it with another sip of coffee.
My dad reaches over to a side table and comes back on screen with a few sheets of paper.
“Something I meant to talk to you two about is hurricane season,” he says, sliding his readers down to his nose as he peruses the papers, which if I had to guess have all sorts of information about hurricane preparedness printed on them. “I know it’s in full swing down there and I just want to make sure you have all the supplies you may need, as well as, an evacuation plan if one hits.”
He pauses long enough to push his glasses back to the top of his head, then continues. “If you need help with this, you just let me know. Those storms are nothing to play with.”
Leave it to my dad to consider himself an expert on a weather condition he’s never experienced before.
“We’re covered, Jack,” Casey says, elbowing me slightly when I start to laugh. “But we appreciate your concern. Hurricanes are no joke.”
She’s so good with my parents and it’s all genuine, so I don’t know why I’m still struggling with trust issues when it comes to her… us.
According to my therapist, who I’ve been seeing quite a bit lately, it’s still normal to have reservations about starting a new relationship after a failed marriage. I want to be able to know Casey, inside and out, open myself up to her completely and have her do the same, but I just can’t seem to make that final leap. I know we don’t have to be in a committed relationship just because we’re having a baby; the baby is coming regardless, but it’s what I want. I want monogamy and intimacy.
I want what my parents have.
I want unconditional acceptance and love and I’m pretty sure I want it with Casey and that she wants it too.
But once your heart has been trampled to shit, it’s hard to give it away again, knowing the outcome could be the same a second time.
“We do appreciate you taking such good care of our boy,” my mom says, looping her arm around my dad’s and leaning into his shoulder. “It helps us not worry so much about him.”
“I’ve told y’all not to worry—”
“That’s just what parents do,” my dad says, giving me the look. “One of these days, you’ll be one and you’ll realize no matter how old or successful your kid gets, you still worry about them.” This thought makes him laugh and shake his head. “One of these days, you’ll be paying for your raising and I’ll be sitting back pulling the grandpa card.”
Maybe it’s the fact the color has drained from my face or the way Casey has gone still as a statue, but my mom swats at my dad.
“Oh, Jack. Knock it off. You know he was a good kid.” Now it’s her turn to lean in, closer to the computer. “Don’t listen to your dad, Honey. He’s just giving you a hard time.”
Clearing my throat, I swallow and let out a deep breath. “So, uh…” I pause and cough again, feeling like a lump is lodged in my throat. “Yeah, that’s actually kind of why we called…”
I drift off, trying to think of a more eloquent way to say what I need to say but come up empty-handed. Casey tenses a bit, like she’s bracing herself for the worst, so I put my arm around her and kiss the top of her head.
My mom’s sighs of admiration let me know that little gesture didn’t go unnoticed.
Keeping my eyes trained on Casey, I exhale. “We’re having a baby…Casey and I are having a baby.”
There’s a moment when it’s just us, me and Casey, and no parents are on the other end of the line. It’s the first time I’ve said those words out loud and it’s hitting me like a ton of bricks. I see the tears pooling, turning Casey’s brown eyes into pools of amber.
“We’re having a baby,” I repeat. “In November.”
When my mom screams, followed by, “I’m gonna be a grandma,” the bubble bursts, and Casey and I both jump.
“A baby?” my dad asks, bringing my focus back to the screen. His expression is a bit confused, but not angry or upset, just needing clarification. “I didn’t know you two are…” He waves his hand around in front of the screen, unsure of what to say. “Are you together?”
“We’re still, um, testing it out,” I say, turning to see Casey wipe under her eyes. She’s letting me take the reins on this revelation but I’m floundering all of a sudden, unsure of what to say or how to explain to my parents exactly what’s going on here. Maybe it’s because I’m struggling to define it myself… or afraid of giving it the label it deserves.
“Testing it out?” Mom repeats. “That’s the silliest thing you’ve said in a long time, Ross Samuel. If the two of you are having a baby together, I’d say you’re more than testing it out.”
Her look of exasperation mixed with confusion almost makes me want to laugh… almost, if it weren’t for my heart that’s practically beating out of my chest. When I look at my dad, he seems to still be reeling from the revelation.
“I know it’s not conventional,” Casey says, finally recovering enough to join in on the conversation. She always seems to come to my rescue exactly when I need it. “But as excited as we are about the baby, it was a complete surprise…definitely not planned. And we just don’t want to rush into anything. No matter what becomes of our personal relationship, Ross and I are one hundred percent committed to this baby and being the best parents we can be.”
She’s amazing.
In this moment, I want to say fuck it all.
Fuck the fears and reservations.
Fuck the stupid nagging in the back of my brain telling me this could all blow up in my face.
Fuck testing the waters.
But I’m just not that guy. I don’t make rash decisions. I don’t fly by the seat of my pants. And, again, I have no clue what Casey’s response would be. Would she laugh at me and say I’m crazy or would she want to jump feet-first with me?
“I can’t say I understand,” my mom continues, reaching across and taking my dad’s hand for support, which he freely gives. “But you’re both adults and you’ve made me a grandma, so I’ll let that be good enough. I’ll let you two figure it out and just pray for the best.”
My dad nods. “You know if you need anything, we’re here for you…both of you.”
“Thank you,” Casey says, reaching for my hand the same way my mom did my dad’s.
And like him, I give it…freely.
“Congratulations, Son,” my dad says. When I see the emotion in his eyes, I have to choke back my own. I’m not one of those people who haven’t ever seen their father cry, but the few times I have, it’s always made me emotional in response.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Thank you,” Casey says, relief evident in her tone and posture.
“We’ll call you after the ultrasound tomorrow, okay?” I tell them, kissing Casey’s temple.
“You’d better,” she says, sitting up straighter. “We need another Skype session.”
“Or Facetime,” my dad chimes in.
Casey lets out a laugh, nodding her head. “I’ll make sure you get more of these.”
“Good,” my mom says, looking happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. “I need to dust off my vinyl cutter machine.” The excitement in her voice is palpable.
My dad just rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “You’ve created a monster. You know that, right?”
“What will the baby call me?” she asks, off in her own little world. “I need to know before too long so I can personalize my things. I can make the baby things too…I can do some cute little onesies…and burp cloths.”
“That would be really sweet, thank you,” Casey says, sounding tired, but content.
Glancing at the clock on the screen, I see it’s past noon and more than past the time Casey usually takes a nap.
&nbs
p; “A baby,” my mom says, still reeling. “I can’t believe it.”
“We’ll call you again soon,” I tell them. “Definitely after the ultrasound.”
My dad nods, squeezing my mom a little closer. “Looking forward to it.”
“Love you…both of you,” my mom says, waving at the screen. “All three of you.”
“Love you too,” I tell them.
My mom blows a kiss and then the computer screen goes dark.
“We did it,” I say, feeling like I pitched an entire game instead of talking to my parents over Skype. Slumping down on the couch, I pull Casey back with me and kiss her head.
“It wasn’t so bad.”
When my phone vibrates in my pocket, I assume it’s my mom or dad sending more congratulations or wanting more information. It will be an ongoing thing for the next few months. I won’t be surprised if my mom finds a way to fly out here soon.
But looking at the screen I see it’s not them.
In fact, it’s no one I want to hear from. Ever.
Felicia.
This is the third or fourth time she’s called in the last month or so and I’m tired of it. I never answer or respond in any way and yet, she keeps calling. This is the most she’s reached out to me in almost a year, so I can’t imagine what she could want to talk about.
I know I should text her and say anything she wants to say to me, she can say to my lawyer, but I don’t. I just let the call go to voicemail then delete it, not listening to it first, before tossing my phone onto the coffee table.
“Who was that?” she asks, looking up at me.
I shake my head, not wanting to lie to her, but also not wanting to bring Felicia into this moment or into our lives period. “No one,” I tell her, shoving the phone back in my pocket and then pulling her closer.
Turning so I can stretch my legs out, I guide Casey to lay back against my chest. When she’s nestled between my legs, I place my hands on her stomach. It’s my new favorite position to lay in with her. She has a tiny yet very round bump now and it’s the cutest thing.
It’s also fucking sexy as hell.
“How is the peanut?” I ask.
