Forbidden Baby Daddy: A Secret Baby Romance

by Lara Swann

  I hold her gaze until I see that knowledge reach her eyes, something in her relaxing slightly. It’s true, too. If I have to face whatever is going to come out of all this, I’d much rather do it with that memory to treasure.

  “Me neither.” She says, her voice almost a whisper.

  “Besides.” I add with a shrug, just to make sure she doesn’t doubt that. “There’s no telling what would have happened if I had been around—this way, at least nothing happened to me.”

  It’s almost painful to repeat the words Blake said to me, because I know it was bullshit just meant to make me feel better…but now, of course, I want to make Chloe feel better. The irony isn’t lost on me.

  A slightly horrified expression crosses Chloe’s face, and she hugs me even tighter. I squeeze her too, pulling her into me and just enjoying the simple comfort there for as long as I can justify it.

  Then, after a few minutes, I force myself to pull back, frowning myself as I look at her.

  “Chloe…what are you doing here?” I finally ask.

  It’s damn bad timing, and as grateful as I am to have her here right now, she shouldn’t be here. I don’t even know why she is - I only dropped her off a few hours ago, and we certainly weren’t going to see each other again this quickly.

  “I…” Her eyes dart off to the side before returning to mine, and I can see the swirl of emotion in them, even in the half-broken lighting of the shop. “My parents found out…about the baby.”

  I take a deep breath, something hitting me in the gut at that announcement - and, totally belatedly, I finally register the devastated expression on her face, the remains of tear tracks and the puffy red of her eyes and cheeks.

  Oh, fuck them. Fuck them to hell and back.

  I don’t say that. I want to, but I don’t think it will help.

  Instead I pull her into me again and hug her tightly - this time, for her benefit.

  “It didn’t go well?” I ask softly, stroking her hair as she holds onto me.

  She shakes her head, but she doesn’t elaborate - and I don’t press for details. If she wants to tell me, I’ll always be here to listen, but if she doesn’t…that might be a good thing. I’m not sure how well I’d respond to the idea of someone reacting badly to our baby - especially right now, when I know there’s some deep part of me that would love to start a fight.

  “I’m sorry.” I murmur, feeling my heart go out for her, even as unease spreads through me for what that means right now.

  I guess that means I can’t gently suggest that this isn’t a good time to be here and maybe it would be better to go home for a while.

  God damn it. Bad fucking timing.

  I want to call Blake up and complain some more, but that’s not going to do anyone any good - and neither is wallowing in all of this. When she finally pulls back, I stroke her cheek and make the offer I know she needs, trying to push away the hesitation I feel about it.

  “I’m not going to lie…it’s kind of a disaster here at the moment…but you can stay as long as you want, Chloe. You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

  She sighs softly, sinking into me again, and I see the way she blinks to clear her eyes. It makes something in me clench tight and I know I’m going to have to do a hell of a lot of self-talk before I finally meet the fucking people that raised her.

  “Thank you.” She says quietly.

  “You don’t have to thank me.” I say, shaking my head and offering the words I would have done so freely, before everything turned to shit for me. “You always have a home here, with me, whenever you want one.”

  She shudders slightly, squeezing me tighter, and for a long time we just stand there. I think we both need that comfort. After the high of the weekend, I’m not sure either of us was prepared for everything to go so wrong so quickly.

  Eventually, she pulls back and looks around again.

  “What are you going to do?” She finally asks, cocking her head at me. “Do you have insurance?”

  “Some.” I shrug. “Not really for anything like this, though…if I’m lucky, it might cover enough to fix my customers’ bikes. Maybe. That way at least I won’t owe anything at the end of all this.”

  She frowns. “The end?”

  I glance around again. “Well…the place is wrecked, Chloe.”

  I don’t quite say it, but I know the sense of defeat comes through in my voice. I don’t know whether I can even afford to fix my customers’ bikes, never mind replace everything that’s been damaged or broken, and I’m pretty sure my reputation is shot now. Not to mention…if the Iron Dogs come back again…

  “Yeah, but…it’s still yours, Ash.” She shakes her head, looking a little defiant as she looks up at me. “It’s everything you always wanted—I know the way you’ve talked about it—all your plans—”

  “Don’t.” I say, pulling away almost subconsciously. Right now, it’s too painful to think about any of that.

  She doesn’t let me, stepping forward with me, that same frown on her face, but backed with determination now.

  “It’s a mess, Ash, but it’s not gone. This is all…awful…but, I mean, what are the chances? They’ve probably taken whatever they wanted, had their thrills and moved onto other targets. You can still rebuild.”

  Her words echo Blake’s in an uncomfortable way - she doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but that thought lingers in my mind anyway.

  Maybe they really won’t come back. Maybe they found what they were looking for - or worked out it wasn’t ever here. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

  Is it enough to risk everything on ‘maybe’?

  I haven’t answered that question before Chloe moves away from me - walking over to a cluster of tools scattered around a bike that’s been half-dismantled. She starts scooping them up and then it’s my turn to frown.

  “Chloe? What are you doing?”

  She looks over her shoulder at me.

  “Tidying up.” She says simply.

  Just like that. Despite the complete devastation. Despite the overwhelming, impossible nature of the task…just like that, she’s…tidying up. She’s started.

  “Chloe…it’s late. You don’t need to—”

  She stands up and turns toward me, cocking her head again. It’s obvious she’s still emotionally exhausted from everything that happened this evening, but the desperate edge to her appearance has faded and all I can see in her eyes is the kind of defiance and determination that first drew me to her.

  “I’m not sleepy.” She says, shrugging. “Are you?”

  I glance around. I feel exhausted - completely drained - but sleep is the last thing on my mind. I shake my head mutely.

  “Do you want to help, then?” She asks, then goes back to picking up tools.

  The tool box is broken, but she puts them inside anyway, and I guess I’ll transfer them over when I buy a new one.

  When. Huh.

  I blink, watching her for a while, still feeling more than a little bemused, even as her obvious attempt to get through to me starts to work and I feel my mindset shifting. After a few minutes, I finally join her, picking an area of the shop next to her and slowly starting to sort through the mess.

  She doesn’t say anything - just glances over and offers me a small smile. I give her one back, and even though I don’t exactly feel like smiling right now, I start to feel like maybe I will again soon.

  As we work, I close my eyes briefly and send up a small prayer of thanks, just that she’s here. I might not know whether I believe in her God, or whether he’s the kind of all-powerful being that really does care enough to pay any attention, but it still feels appropriate right now. I need somewhere to put the flow of helpless gratitude as we work slowly together.

  I know there are a million things I need to think about and deal with. I know I should be worrying about her being here at all - I should be trying to think of a non-suspicious way to get her away from me for a while.

  But I don’t want any of that.
>
  Instead, I start collecting screws and bolts that have been upended over the floor, and just enjoy that she’s here, right beside me, doing exactly the same thing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chloe

  Over the next week, Ash and I manage to restore some semblance of order to his shop.

  It’s still almost a disaster, but at least it’s not a total disaster anymore. I still can’t believe anyone would do that. I can’t even see why, except for thrills and pure destruction. I mean, wouldn’t taking the bikes have made more sense? I can understand straightforward theft more than I can understand something like this - I know it’s a rough part of town, but are people around here really that…callous?

  It’s what my parents have always said, but I’m not sure I fully believed it until I walked in to see the state of Ash’s shop. He gives me a dozen precautions to take as well, every time I leave or walk around in this area, and it’s enough to have me slightly on edge. I never did any of this before, but…well…after what happened, I guess I can understand it.

  He’s just worried for me - and the baby. If I’m honest, I am a little bit too. Enough that I almost start to question my broad-stroke defiance and my confidence in having a place outside of my parents’ home that I can turn to.

  Is this the kind of environment I want to be raising my kid in? What if they’re right?

  It’s an insidious feeling, one that I try to banish from my mind, but it resurfaces as the week goes on. I still get angry whenever I think about what they said and did, and I burst into tears every time I think of how they reacted to hearing about my baby - Dad’s contemptuous stare and Mom crying tears of anything but joy.

  I tell myself that overly emotional response is just pregnancy hormones, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s the idea that they could be so upset about something that I’ve fallen totally, completely, head-over-heels in love with over the last couple of months.

  That anger and upset keeps me at Ash’s place all week, stubborn and determined, but as the days pass without any contact with my parents, it gets harder to hold onto. I start thinking about what a shock it must have been - how upsetting it would have been that I kept it all from them - and that maybe I’m judging them too harshly for a very initial reaction. I never expected them to accept it straightaway, it’s just…I don’t know. Maybe after Ash’s Mom, I hoped. But that’s on me, isn’t it?

  They shouldn’t have said the things they did, but…everyone gets carried away in the heat of the moment, don’t they? I did, too. After a few days, that argument feels less and less like a defining statement of everything they feel that I can’t possibly accept…and more like what it was: an argument. A hurtful and upsetting one, but a moment in time all the same.

  Shouldn’t I have given them some time to come to terms with all this?

  They were right - it is all out of character for me. Or at least the character they think I am. Maybe I need to be a little more open about who I am and want to be - and maybe, with all this and Ash beside me, I’ll be able to start that now.

  I can understand their shock…and even though I hate it, I start feeling a little guilty for my part in all this too. For deliberately provoking and aggravating them.

  I start thinking about my baby, and what it would be like if my parents never knew it. If I really was raising it all alone - with Ash, sure, but without my own family - and the thought breaks my heart, deep inside me. I don’t want that. I want them to be a part of this - I just wanted them to love my baby the way I do, too. But…it’s all so new, and it’s not like it’s growing inside them. I didn’t give them a chance…and I wonder whether this is it, now. If I never go back, if I never reach out, are we just never going to talk again?

  It feels like a huge empty space, the gulf between us right now, and I’m not sure I could bear that for the rest of my life.

  The thoughts circle around and around in my mind, until by the time I get a message from Mom on Friday, I know that the voice in the back of my head has done half their work for them. I’m just so relieved for something to bridge that gap between us, that it takes me a moment to even look at it.

  Mom: I hope you’re okay, Chloe. It’s been a while now…will you come home and talk about things?

  I stare at the offer - the invitation - for a long time, and every thought I’ve had over the week surges up all at once. The residual anger, the hurt and upset, the worry and guilt…and it’s all too much. I think part of me has been waiting for a message - an offering - this whole week, but now it’s here, I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with it.

  It’s not until the evening that I can even bring myself to mention it to Ash.

  “My parents contacted me today.” I finally say, sitting on the couch next to him and pushing the rice from our latest Chinese takeout around in the box I’m holding, not feeling the slightest bit hungry.

  He looks up at me, his expression turning serious as he pauses with the chopsticks halfway to his mouth. “Oh?"

  “They want me to go home and talk things through with them.” I finish, feeling the uncertainty of it all swirling around in my gut.

  He sets the box down on the low table in front of us, twisting around to face me properly and wrap one arm around my shoulder. I lean back into it, sighing a little, grateful for that simple, unspoken support. His eyes are still full of warmth and concern when he looks at me, but it’s not hard to see the strain that’s been there over the last week, too.

  It’s been…strange, living here with him this week. A whole mix of things. The best part has been Ash, in so many ways. I’ve loved being around him all the time like this - his constant presence and warmth and affection so obvious and reassuring - but I haven’t been able to shake the strange empty feeling from just leaving my parents like that. Combined with the worry about what happened to his shop and the uncertainty about exactly what I’m doing and what our plans are…it’s been a little bit tough, too.

  I’m relieved that I got to be here to support him after what happened - to help tidy up and get him moving with his shop again - but his obvious stress has been difficult, too, no matter how much he’s tried to hide it. It’s totally understandable, of course, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more from him or his support this week…but it’s not quite what I pictured from the first time we’re spending any solid length of time together, either.

  “What do you think you want?” He asks quietly, his understanding gaze meeting mine in that way he has.

  Just wanting to listen. To be there. It’s times like this when it’s impossible not to think how very special he is.

  “I don’t know.” I say, in the same quiet tone, closing my eyes briefly. “I don’t like…the way it is right now.”

  He nods, his hand rubbing my shoulder gently. “You haven’t quite seemed like yourself this week, Chloe.”

  “I know.” I say softly, sighing a little.

  He hasn’t either, but I don’t bother mentioning that - we both know that, and we both know why. I’m hoping that when the shop gets fully up and running again and he works out what to do about his customers’ orders, it might ease a little. We’ve made progress this week, but I’m not sure anything can dull that memory of coming home to the wreck of his shop…except maybe time.

  I shift slightly, twisting so that I’m facing him too, my body nestled into the space between his chest and arm on the couch. “I’m no good when things are bad between us - when there’s just that…tension…that absence.”

  He nods, but he doesn’t say anything, waiting for me to come to my own conclusion about these things. It’s a space that I value immensely, even if part of me wishes he would just tell me what he thinks - what I should do. It would be easier that way. I wouldn’t have to work out what I want myself - or risk him judging me for whatever that is. Not that he would, but…it’s hard to remember that, and to be open, sometimes.

  “I…” I start, then pause and try again, the thought still forming as I
speak. “What would you think…if I did go back to talk to them?”

  I meet his gaze as he slowly strokes my cheek, leaning in to brush his lips over mine.

  “I just want you to be happy, Chloe. You should do what you want - whatever feels right to you. So long as they stop upsetting you, I don’t mind what you want to do.”

  I swallow slightly, my eyes darting away from his and around the room. “Yes, but…wouldn’t you mind…if…”

  I don’t quite know how to put it into words, this guilty feeling I have. Like I’m abandoning him - like I’m just running wherever would be most comfortable or easiest right now. It’s not like that - that’s not how I feel at all - but…well…I’m not exactly sure I’m ready for…whatever we’re doing right now. I didn’t really think about it, when I first ran out last Sunday night. I’m not sure I really intended not to go back, but the way it’s worked out this week…

  Ash catches my chin in his hand, raising it so I meet his eyes again - the gentle, genuine expression there as he shakes his head - and I get the feeling he understands anyway.

  “Chloe…” He takes my hand in his other one, squeezing it. “That’s your home - I know that.”

  His hand drops from my chin to settle against my stomach - where I think I might finally, finally, be starting to develop a tiny little bump - and I couldn’t look away right now even if I wanted to.

  “Some day…” His voice sounds husky as he continues. “I’d like us to make a home, together. But I don’t expect that to happen right now, simply because you had an argument with your parents. You’re welcome here whenever you want, but I don’t expect you to think of it like that or to want to stay all the time.”

  I blink, tears coming to the corners of my eyes as he manages to settle all my sudden worries, while making me feel warm and cared for all at the same time. Somehow, he managed to explain how I’m feeling better than even I could, and I wonder whether it’s because he felt exactly the same way - it’s too soon for us to be doing this, and not when that’s how it started. I want a home with him too, one day, but I don’t want it to happen this way.