Don't Leave Me (My Secret Boyfriend Book 3)

by S Doyle

  Marc

  I was staying at the same motel as the last time I was in Florida. Happy that tomorrow, I would be in a place that felt more permanent. All these decisions I made felt good. Right. Like I was putting pieces of a puzzle together, and, once they all interconnected, I would have the finished product.

  Laying on my bed, I reached for my phone and texted Ash.

  Me: Do you still text?

  It took minutes, but eventually, my phone dinged.

  Ash: No, there really hasn’t been anyone to text. I’m adamant about not getting Danny a phone until he’s at least eight.

  I smiled.

  Me: That’s another rule we should write down. No phone for the kid until he’s eight.

  Ash: Adding it to the list.

  I was about to text some other innocuous thought when she sent another text.

  Ash: Why aren’t you angrier with me?

  It was a good question. When I found out she was alive, after my initial shock, my thoughts swirled around anger, betrayal. Even some kind of retribution. Although that mostly entailed orgasms.

  Then, I’d thought about why I’d felt so angry and betrayed.

  It was because I’d been so hurt. The grief I felt over losing Ash was all-consuming. I didn’t think I would know joy again. I didn’t think I would ever be happy again. Easy things to think in prison, but they all seemed to be compounded by her absence.

  She’d been part of me for so long, not having her be part of me was a sadness I didn’t think I would ever overcome. Hell, I’d been prepared to simply live with it as my due.

  So yeah, for making me be that sad, I wanted to hate her. But I couldn’t.

  Me: Because you’re alive.

  It was that simple. She was gone and we were separated. Now she wasn’t gone, and we didn’t have to be separated.

  Ash: I’m sorry.

  Me: I know. So, you can stop saying it. The past is behind us. Now it’s all about the future.

  Ash: What does that look like?

  Me: You’ll see.

  My answer was intentionally ambiguous because I had this sense of not wanting to scare her off. She was like a rabbit caught in a field by a predator. Cute, but also a little bit jumpy.

  As each day had passed, and things in my head and my heart became clearer, I knew I had figured out some essential facts.

  I didn’t want custody of Daniel. I wanted him in my life.

  I didn’t want him to spend weekends with me; I wanted to spend weekends with him and Ash.

  I didn’t want an agreement or a court order.

  I wanted a family. I wanted my family.

  The trick would be getting Ash to believe in that again.

  10

  A few days later

  Ashleigh

  “Hey, Sandra, I’m home,” I announced, as I opened the door, balancing two bags of groceries in my hands.

  I could hear Daniel babbling and I figured Sandra must be reading to him. He loved to pretend he was saying all the words anytime he was being read to. Making my way toward the kitchen, I put down the groceries, then quickly sorted them away.

  By the time I got back to the living room Sandra was pulling her stuff together to leave.

  “Good day?” I asked.

  “Interesting day,” she answered.

  Daniel crawled over to me and basically climbed up my leg until he was standing. Then, raising his arms up, he signaled to me he wanted to be held. I hefted him up and realized I was never going to need to go to a gym for weightlifting, as he was his own workout. He’d gotten so big and solid, so fast.

  Then again, Marc was no lightweight.

  Shoot, I’d broken my don’t-think-about-Marc rule. Something that happened usually only every other hour. There’d been no word from him since Monday and it was absolutely maddening.

  Did he want to know his son, or didn’t he?

  Or had seeing the reality of a poopy diaper turned him off completely? If that was the case, then he didn’t deserve to have Daniel in his life.

  “What was interesting?” I asked, focusing on what Sandra had said.

  “We went for a stroll this morning and ran into your friend.”

  “My friend?”

  “You know, the handsome one who is also the baby’s father,” Sandra said, with a droll tone.

  I quirked my lips. “You think you’re clever.”

  “I know I’m clever,” she told me. “But this did not take cleverness. Daniel is a mini clone of him. Two and two add up to four very quickly. So, he was gone and now he is back?”

  “It’s complicated,” I told her.

  “You young people, it’s always complicated. You and he made a baby. Now, he comes around with wounded-wolf eyes looking at both of you like he just wants to be petted. To me, that’s not complicated.”

  I ignored that, mostly because I didn’t know what wolf eyes were, and, instead, focused on what she’d said before. “What do you mean you ran into him?”

  “Oh, you’ll see. Danny’s been a little fussy. You might consider taking him for a walk. And make sure you turn down Pear Street. Goodbye, little man,” she said, bending down to kiss his fat cheek, which made him giggle and wiggle in my arms.

  She left, and I looked at Danny. “Did you see your daddy today?”

  His response was to smack my cheek with his open palm.

  “Baby, looks like we’re going for a walk.”

  He was mowing the lawn. Shirt off, tucked into his back pocket, and mowing the lawn in front of a house on Pear Street. He stopped as soon as he spotted me, turning off the mower, then jogging down the driveway to greet us.

  “Hey, good timing,” he said. Then he moved around the stroller and crouched in front of Danny. “Hey, big guy, you’re back.”

  Then Marc, serious, grumpy, usually angry-at-something Marc, made this ridiculous face which sent Danny into peals of laughter.

  “What is happening?” The question was mostly for myself.

  Marc stood then. “Hi.”

  “Explain please,” I said, a bit tersely.

  For over a year my life had order and routine. And yes, part of the order and routine included being sad and scared. Missing George, missing Marc. Hating that he was in prison with only George to visit him. Scared my cover wasn’t good enough. That I’d left some trail behind for Evan to find.

  Now, it was like everything had been flipped. Marc was here, Evan was dead, and my orderly existence of loving Daniel, grieving my family and always looking over my shoulder had morphed into this.

  “I rented this place. Convenient, right?”

  “You rented. This house?” I looked at the bungalow not too dissimilar to mine.

  “Yeah, it’s furnished, and my lease is month to month.”

  “So you can leave whenever you want,” I pointed out.

  “So I can stay for as long as I want,” he countered. “In fact, I told George about it and he’s already put the cabin up for sale. Once he gets things settled up there, he’ll come down and live with me.”

  I bit my bottom lip. “You two are going to live around the corner from me?”

  “Yes. How does that make you feel?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Scared, I’m sure. But this is the only way I’m going to get to know Daniel.”

  I looked at him, and, for a second, got distracted by his chest. It was broader than I remembered. His arms were thicker, too. “You’ve gotten bigger,” I blurted.

  “Not much else to do in prison besides lift weights and get tattoos. And you know I’m—”

  “Scared of needles,” I finished for him.

  He smiled at that.

  Back to what he’d said, though. “Are you saying you have to get to know Daniel before you decide you want to be in his life?”

  Shit. I sounded shrill. I sounded defensive, too. This was too much. Things were moving too fast and I couldn’t keep up.

  “Nope. I’ve only spent a l
ittle time with him, but I know I like him. He laughs when I make silly faces.”

  “Since when do you make silly faces, Marc?” I charged.

  “Since I found out they make my kid laugh,” he retorted.

  His kid.

  He moved closer to me and took my hand. Just holding it. I looked down and thought his fingers didn’t seem exactly straight.

  “Don’t be scared, Ash.”

  I shook my head and closed my eyes. “It’s too much.”

  “No, it’s not enough. But we’ll get there.”

  “Where, Marc?”

  He smiled. “To the place we were always meant to go. We’re just going about it in a highly unique way.”

  I wanted to laugh, but I wanted to cry, too.

  “You told me once I didn’t believe in us enough.”

  “You didn’t,” I accused him.

  “Yeah, well now the shoe, I think, is on the other foot. It’s my job to convince you we can do this.”

  “Do what?” I asked, exasperated. “All I want to know, is whether or not you want partial custody of my baby.”

  “Our baby,” he said. Then he moved around the stroller, made another funny face at Danny, then ambled back to his lawn mower.

  “Marc!” I shouted, over the roar of the engine. “Seriously, what is all of this about?”

  “Sorry. Can’t hear you,” he shouted back. “Talk later?”

  I stomped my foot in frustration, but I knew he was done talking.

  Believe in us? There was no us. I’d ruined his life, and at some point he was going to realize that and hate me. The only thing we needed to figure out, was how he and I were going to raise Danny.

  I pushed the stroller all the way home in a tizzy of anger, concern, and the one thing I didn’t want to feel. Because it was an emotion I was positive I’d buried, along with Ashleigh Landen.

  But it was there. Like a damned beacon in the dark.

  Hope.

  Later that night

  Ashleigh

  My phone, sitting on the nightstand next to my bed, dinged. For several minutes, I stared at the ceiling and refused to look at it. As if ignoring it would make it go away. I normally left my phone in the kitchen to charge overnight, yet tonight, I’d purposefully gone to bed with it.

  Another reminder ding and I caved.

  Marc: You up?

  Me: Yes. Can’t sleep. One guess why.

  Marc: You keep thinking about me with my shirt off.

  I gasped and shot up in bed. Had he really written that? Yes, I read it again. He’d written that. He’d written sexy talk into our conversation.

  Furiously, I typed back.

  Me: Ego much?

  Marc: Just going by the facts. You couldn’t stop looking at me like you wanted to take a bite.

  Me: I am a MOTHER!

  While I realized that sort of made no sense, it felt important to remind him of that.

  Marc: Yes, I know. You’re a mother because I fucked you hard in Vegas and came deep inside you. For the record, coming inside you felt amazing. Making babies is awesome.

  Immediately, my cheeks flamed.

  Me: Stop talking like that or I’m not replying to you anymore.

  Marc: Okay, I’ll stop. It’s just…been a long time. What about for you? Has there been anyone? Some dude Sandra threw in front of you, you decided you liked?

  He was asking me if I’d dated anyone since being in Florida. Was he kidding?

  Me: Hello? Grieving, on the run, pregnant, new job, new baby. None of that equals dating.

  Marc: Good.

  Me: Why do I feel like you’ve got your smug face on right now?

  Marc: Let me check the mirror. Yep, total smug face.

  Me: What are we even talking about?

  Because that’s how it felt with him. Like I’d gone down some weird rabbit hole where we were Marc and Ash again, but that wasn’t possible. I knew, because I was the one who killed us.

  Marc: I think we’re talking about sex.

  Me: No, we were talking about why I can’t sleep, which is because you are making me crazy.

  Marc: Well, I can’t control how you’re feeling. But, I do have a cure for your sleeplessness. I could come over and go down on you. Give you one or two orgasms and then I’d leave. I promise. No funny stuff.

  Me: Will you be serious? You being in Florida is about Danny, not about us.

  Marc: I’m pretty sure us is you, me and Danny.

  No! It wasn’t. It couldn’t be. As part of my grieving, I’d promised I’d put any idea of an us in the past. Marc and I had no future. There was only the physical reality of what we’d made together that he needed to address.

  Marc: You just need to believe in us again. It’s my job to make you.

  Me: But why do you want to? Haven’t I done enough to you already? You’re not thinking about everything that’s happened.

  The unforgiveable things I’d done.

  Marc: I’m not thinking about that, and I won’t. I’m thinking about the future. Our future.

  Me: What if I said I didn’t trust that we could have a future?

  Marc: Then I’ll change your mind. With persistence and orgasms.

  I threw the phone to the edge of the bed and crossed my arms over my breasts. Pretending not to notice my nipples were hard.

  When was the last time I even thought of myself as a sexual creature?

  Vegas.

  When was the last time I’d craved an orgasm?

  Vegas.

  When was the last I thought about wanting to take a bite out of a man’s chest?

  This afternoon.

  Oh, shit.

  The next morning

  Marc

  The bell rung over the door as I opened it. Candy smiled a little oddly as she spotted me.

  “And you’re back,” she announced.

  I stretched my hand out to her. “I’m Marc. I should probably tell you, I’ll pretty much be a regular from now on, and not because of the coffee.”

  Candy giggled and shook my hand. “You like Marie,” she said, as if she’d just come to the conclusion.

  “I do like Marie.”

  “She’s a little shy sometimes,” Candy warned me. “But don’t think she’s standoffish.”

  “Thanks for the info. Can I get a cruller and a cup of coffee? And can you let Marie know I’m here?”

  She didn’t need to let Ash know I was in the bakery. Instead, the door leading to the kitchen swung open and she came out with fury in her eyes. “Candy, can you check on my strudels?”

  Candy, sensing a brewing war, acted quickly, but not before she handed me my cruller and coffee. I took a sip as I watched Ash wait until Candy had left before directing her scowl on me.

  “This coffee is amazing,” I said, before she could start spewing her anger. “What do you add to it?”

  “It’s a secret recipe,” she huffed, then opened her mouth to say something else, but I cut her off.

  “Okay, but when I stay over, can you make it for me in the morning?”

  I didn’t smile. I just bit into my doughnut and watched her get outraged.

  “Stop doing that! And what you did last night was really messed up.”

  “You didn’t let me do anything last night because you were busy being a mother. In all caps.”

  “Marc, you can’t do this. It’s not going to work.”

  “We’ll see.”

  I looked around the little bakery. There was only one small table in the corner and two chairs. Since I was the only customer, I took a seat and set my coffee on the table.

  The bell over the door rang again, and Ash was forced to give her attention to the next customer. Candy, done checking the strudels, came out, and the two of them served another three customers before the shop was empty again.

  Empty except for me.

  Ash came over to my table, and, in a hushed whisper, said, “What are you still doing here?”

  I held up my coffee cup to m
ake my point. “I thought I would hang out until you close, and then we could go do something. Like see a movie. You know, with all of our history, we’ve never once gone to see a movie?”

  “Yes, because you never asked me to go see a movie.”

  “Ashleigh—”

  “Marie,” she hissed.

  “Ashleigh Marie, will you please go with me to the movies after work?”

  “No, I will not go to the movies with you after work, because I have a child at home waiting for me.”

  “Oh, I checked with Sandra first. She’s happy to stay overtime. In fact, she thinks it’s a great idea. Apparently, you don’t do much outside of work and Danny.”

  “Because work and Danny are two full-time jobs!”

  Had she always been this cute when she was pissed? It was like suddenly, I couldn’t remember any moment from our past. We were just here and now, and everything was different. She was this cute single mom I was flirting with. It was kind of fun.

  “Yes,” I said. “But if we’d done things the normal way where we dated, got married and had a kid, at some point, we would have found time to go to the movies.”

  “We are not normal!” she shouted, stating the obvious.

  “So how do we get there?” I asked, very seriously. “How do Marc and Ash go back and do it all over?”

  That quieted her up. Like she was actually thinking about the question. What did she want from me now, that was different from what we’d done in the past?

  “Well, for starters, it might be a switch if you were nice to me.”

  I tilted my head and laughed. Yeah, that made sense. “Noted. Be nice to Ash.”

  She sighed. “Marc, I can’t…”

  “Okay. Forget the movies for now. Maybe that’s too much. We could just walk over to the park. Share a cupcake. Talk. I’m still getting used to it. Being out, being free. Communicating with people without being watched, in case I break a rule.”

  She bit her lip.

  It might be a low blow. I was playing on her guilt. I knew, though, that this thing I was working toward was going to take time and patience. Winning back her trust in us was not going to be easy. Helping her let go of the past was also no simple task. Her guilt was still a real thing. Not only did I have to do all that, but I had to do it in the context of proving I was a worthy enough candidate to be a father to her son.