Tempting Forever

by Mia Pride

  “Brent told you this?” I asked, curious but trying not to show it.

  “Yeah. He says Chris looks like shit and even messed up a contract last week. He never makes mistakes. And he asks about you every day. Brent said he was surprised Chris hadn’t stopped by your place yet to break down the door.”

  “He may well have. I’ve been working around the clock at the Le Petite Castile, so I’m rarely home. I feel bad for Charlie, but I need to stay busy, and I also need the money.”

  “Your baby daddy is one of the richest men in the country,” Crystal reminded me, nudging my shoulder. “Your baby will be just fine. He isn’t going to be stingy or miss the child support payments. I bet he will pay you more per month than you make in a year,” she added with a huff.

  “You know damned well that I will not sit on my ass and let a man support my kid and me. Otherwise, I’m no better than the women constantly chasing him.” I felt terrible that Chris was suffering, but so was I. He made his bed.

  “I know, Mon,” Crystal sighed before grunting again as she got to her feet. “Come on. We have to get to your appointment. After this one, it will be every two weeks for you. Does Chris know about it?”

  I shook my head. “I figured it’s just a routine checkup. Nothing he needs to know unless they find something important.”

  I could sense the disapproval radiating from my best friend, but this was my choice. I felt bad that Chris was a mess. Obviously, he cared about the baby and me, but he hadn’t cared enough to tell anyone about us. Everything was perfect as long as we remained in a private bubble in his house, but that wasn’t life, and that wasn’t fair to me.

  When we arrived, I felt a slight cramp and paused as I climbed out of the car. I had been feeling these more often, but they came and went without much issue.

  “Are you all right?” Crystal came around and touched my shoulder, lowering her brow with concern.

  “Yeah. Just a bit crampy. I’m fine.”

  “Is this common for you?”

  Shrugging, I tossed my purse over my shoulder, and we started to walk into the doctor’s office. “Not super common, but it happens. Don’t you cramp or spot sometimes?”

  Crystal pursed her lips. “I don’t. But who knows? This is the first time for both of us, and everyone is different. Just mention it to the doctor.”

  Nodding, I opened the door, and we walked in together, pausing in my tracks when I saw Chris standing by the check-in counter, all eyes in the room on him. He wore one of his tailored suits and looked as gorgeous as ever, making my heart beat like a drum as my breath caught in my chest. When his gaze lifted from the phone in his hand to lock on me, I closed my eyes to break the spell he so easily wove over me. Taking a deep breath, I continued to move toward him, attempting to still my shaking hands.

  His eyes softened as I approached, and he slid his phone into his pocket. “Check-up at ten. It was on my calendar.”

  “Right,” I nodded and nervously tucked a loose lock of hair behind my ear. “Thank you for coming.”

  His brow raised, and I knew he was silently wondering if I was actually glad he was here or not, but even I did not have an answer for him. Part of me longed to see him all month, wishing I could forget his family or the things they said, but I couldn’t. Their words didn’t hurt me, but their ignorance about my place in Chris’s life did, and I still believed his failure to tell them about me was evidence of his shame. I refused to be anything someone felt shame over, no matter how much I wished to be with him, to talk to him, to feel him all over me one more time. My pride could not allow it.

  I noticed Crystal silently slink into a chair across the room to give us space, but I wished she had stayed by my side. I wasn’t emotionally prepared to see him, much less discuss our situation.

  The receptionist behind the desk asked me to step up so she could check me in. Handing her my insurance card, she scanned it and handed it back. “Doctor Herrera will be with you shortly,” she said with a smile.

  “Thank you,” both Chris and I said at the same time. I walked over to a seat, and he followed, sitting beside me, ignoring all the women who eyed him with interest.

  “I’ve tried to contact you,” Chris whispered.

  “I know.”

  “I came by your place several times.”

  “I must have been working.”

  “I see,” he muttered. “Did you get your position back?”

  I shook my head. “New place,” is all I said. I wasn’t ready to say more. If he started to show up at my new restaurant, I might cave to my desire. He smelled like spice, and his clean-shaven sculpted jaw made him look like a model on the cover of a men’s magazine.

  “I miss you,” he whispered and tried to take my hand.

  “Don’t.” I moved my hand away and felt my anger rising. “I didn’t ask you to be here.”

  “Obviously,” he said with an edge. “But I have a right to be here.”

  “Which is why I haven’t made you leave,” I hissed.

  “I don’t want to argue with you, Monica. I fucked up.”

  One woman across from us gave us a look and covered her toddler’s ears, but I ignored her, having enough to deal with.

  “Now is not the time for this.”

  “I’ve tried to talk at better times, and you ignored me,” Chris responded.

  The nurse called my name, and I sighed with relief. I was glad to see Chris even if I pretended not to be, but I didn’t have the energy to discuss this now. With a forced smile, I got up, flinching when I felt Chris place his palm against my lower back. Looking over my shoulder to find Crystal, I saw her still sitting in a seat. With an encouraging smile, she signaled for me to go in without her.

  I wrinkled my nose at her but walked in with Chris behind me.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Miss Stevenson and Mister Farrington,” the nurse said when she escorted us into a room and prompted me to sit.

  “Thanks, you too,” I said. Chris nodded and smiled, finding his place beside the wall.

  “How is everything going? Any concerns you wish to discuss with the doctor today?”

  I saw Chris hone in on me, his protective nature always at the forefront.

  “I feel fine. No major concerns. I have started to cramp and spot from time to time, but nothing bad.”

  Chris stepped closer to me with a crinkled brow, clearly worried and upset that I didn’t call on him for comfort as I once would have done.

  “How long has this been happening?” she asked as she scribbled notes into my chart.

  “Just a couple of weeks. Is this bad?”

  “Cramps and spotting can be nothing serious, but best to let the doctor check it out. Here is a gown for you. Doctor Herrera will be in shortly.” She handed me a light pink gown with white polka dots on it and left the room.

  “You didn’t tell me you were spotting,” Chris said without anger in his voice.

  “No, I didn’t think much of it, honestly.” I shrugged and began to unfold the robe.

  “Do you want me to leave the room?”

  “Just face the wall while I change. No need to leave.”

  Doing as I asked, Chris turned, and I quickly removed my fuzzy cream sweater, tank, bra, pants, and panties before slipping into the baggy robe and getting set up on the table. “All done.”

  Chris turned around and looked at me but didn’t say anything. I appreciated that he had dropped the subject, but the stifling tension in the room made me flushed and flustered. My love for him was just as strong as ever. If I thought I could trust him with my heart, I would be back in his arms in half a second, but trust didn’t come easily to me, and once lost, it was even harder to gain back. Maybe that was my own flaw, but it was how I always coped with disappointment or pain.

  Questions swarmed my mind. Had he slept with anyone during the past month? I decided not to ask. It wasn’t my business any longer what Chris did with his private life, and sometimes not knowing was preferable to the
truth. The only male I shared a bed with since Chris was a pug who sat on my head at night and farted too much.

  As Chris scrutinized every inch of me, I felt vulnerable yet curious. What was he thinking? Did he miss me, or was he just trying to do the right thing for our son?

  A knock on the door broke our gaze as Doctor Herrera came in with her clipboard in hand, skimming her nurse’s notes.

  “Hello! It’s good to see you both again,” she said with a bright smile and kind dark eyes. “All right, Monica. Twenty weeks already! Halfway through. Feeling good aside from some cramping and spotting?”

  I nodded and shifted on the exam table.

  “Let’s have a look.” Doctor Herrera instructed me to lean back and place my legs in the stirrups as if I hadn’t done this a thousand times. Chris stepped to the side to give me privacy but came up beside me instead.

  His hand hung by his side within my line of sight, and I wished desperately for his strength and comfort, to reach out and touch him. Something about this appointment had me unnerved, and it wasn’t just his presence. In my gut, I felt something wasn’t quite right. Crystal hadn’t cramped or spotted at all, and the doctor didn’t seem alarmed, yet clearly, she was concerned if she had me completely disrobed and spread eagle on the table so early on in the pregnancy.

  Lifting my gown, the doctor touched my belly and applied slight pressure, making the baby shift. Chris looked at me and smiled, grabbing my hand. Hesitantly, I allowed it, knowing we both needed the comfort.

  “The baby is growing as expected,” she said with a smile before using a monitor to check his heart. “Heart rate is great. I’m going to examine your cervix now.”

  Doctor Herrera moved lower, and though she was gentle, I tensed up when I felt her begin her examination, anxiety getting the best of me. I felt Chris squeeze my hand, and I looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since the appointment began. I saw the genuine concern and honest emotion in his eyes, and it made my heart flutter in a way I didn’t want it to. His concern for me and his child was natural but it did not negate his desire to hide us away like some shameful mistake. His father wasn’t wrong when he likened me to a mistress, and that realization shot stabs through my tender heart. I had not believed that to be the case, but if Chris kept me protected and loved in private, willing to support me in secret but make me invisible to his world, then what else was I?

  “As I suspected, you have an incompetent cervix.”

  My gaze tore away from Chris and landed on the doctor, who gently pulled my gown down and prompted me to sit up while she calmly removed her gloves. I had never heard of such a thing, but of course, my cervix would be as incompetent as the rest of me right now.

  “What does that mean?” Chris asked gruffly, helping me sit up even though I did not require it.

  “It means your cervix is softening before it’s time. It’s nothing overly concerning, but it is something I will need to monitor, and your activity level will have to be vastly modified to prevent pre-term labor.”

  All of this sounded overly concerning to me, even if it didn’t to the doctor. I had a job that required me to stand and move for hours. That job was the only thing paying my bills and keeping me insured.

  “But, I have to work. I’m the head chef at a very busy restaurant!”

  The doctor frowned and shook her head. “Not anymore, or at least not until six to eight weeks after you deliver, Monica. I’m sorry. I realize this is not ideal, but it is reality. The cramps and spotting are from your cervix softening, and if it softens too much, nothing besides your uterus prevents the baby from coming too early. You are twenty weeks along. If we can get you to thirty-five weeks minimally, we will be in good shape.”

  “I have bills to pay... a mortgage... I need medical insurance...”

  “I can pay all of that, Monica,” Chris said, rubbing my back.

  Hopping off the table, I felt my panic rise and my knees grow weak. “Like hell! You want to ‘Pretty Woman’ me more than you already have? I want nothing from you, Chris!”

  Doctor Herrera bit her lower lip and looked at her clipboard, clearing her throat. “There are programs in place for these purposes. I will recommend you for disability. You will have financial and medical support through the program until you can return to work.” She looked at Chris, then me. Hesitatingly, she spoke. “I won’t pry, but he is the father, Miss Stevenson. If he wants to help, let him. You’re a smart, independent woman, and I respect that as one, myself. Sometimes, we need help and should know when to accept it. I will leave so you may change. I will need to see you every week from now on to check the changes in your cervix. You can schedule that appointment with my receptionist.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, refusing to look at either of them, feeling completely vulnerable as I stood there in nothing but a faded gown and raw, exposed emotions. I wanted to blame my hormones, but I knew my hurt pride and bruised heart were the problems.

  The door shut behind her, and I walked over to my clothes, not caring anymore if Chris saw me change. Gentleman that he was, he turned, but he did not leave. “Monica, you can’t shut me out like this.”

  “I haven’t,” I quipped as I rushed to dress, ready to be away from him. “You’re here, are you not?”

  “Only because I wrote down the appointment. You didn’t tell me.”

  “I didn’t see a reason to. It was a routine check.”

  “But it wasn’t, was it?” he asked, turning to look at me just as I pulled my sweater over my head. “You’re a high-risk pregnancy now. Would you have called to tell me had I not been here?”

  Turning to look at him, I stilled, unsure of the answer. Would I have? I wanted to think so, but part of me wondered if I might have kept it from him, only to prevent him from freaking out and coddling me like a baby.

  “I’m not sure if I would have,” I answered.

  “Well, I appreciate your honesty, Monica, but I want to be involved in every step. I have made this clear. I’m trying.”

  “Trying so hard that you couldn’t pick up a fucking phone to tell your mother you were going to have a baby?”

  “Mon—”

  “No. Not right now. I just found out I have to quit yet another damned job and become either a dependent of the state or a dependent of my baby daddy—neither of which is ideal.”

  Picking up my purse, I walked toward the door, stopping when I felt his hand grip my arm. Turning around, I glared at him, annoyance working to camouflage my aching heart.

  “I won’t give up on us, Monica. I fucked up. I have my reasons. You don’t want to talk now? Fine. But we will talk. See you next week. I will await your message with day and time.”

  Chris walked away stiff-backed and, damn me and these hormones, but I watched as his fine ass retreated and disappeared around the corner.

  “Yes, Mister Farrington,” I childishly quipped, mocking the nasal voice of his receptionist. I knew I was stubborn, but he broke me, and I generally used stubborn pride and sarcasm as crutches when I was hurt.

  Storming out of the room, I found Crystal waiting by the receptionist for me with a frown on her face. Clearly, she saw Chris storm out. I made my next appointment, then turned to look at her. “Take me and my incompetent cervix home. I’m done for the day.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chris

  PULLING ALL-NIGHTERS at the office wasn’t doing enough to keep me busy. Besides seeing Monica once a week for the thirty-minute doctor check-up, she did not call me or respond to any messages. Three more weeks passed, and I battled the desire to be tenacious without being a stalker. But the woman I loved carried my child, and she wouldn’t even give me a chance to speak.

  To fill the other lonely hours, I spent much of my time working on the nursery and reading parenting books, keeping my phone close by in case Monica needed me for any reason. I wasn’t an anxious man, but knowing she was high risk and not knowing where she was or how she was doing every day made me edgy. My
mother called from time to time, but I ignored her, having no desire to speak to my family any time soon.

  Wearing a pair of gray sweats and a loose white tee, I plopped on my couch after cleaning the kitchen, which looked like a flour bomb exploded over its entire surface. Cooking had never been a skill of mine, but if I was going to be a single dad, I needed to learn basic recipes. Maybe I should stick to scrambled eggs because I burned the hell out of the fried chicken and steamed the broccoli until it was almost liquid. I missed Monica’s cooking. Her presence, her laughter, her conversation—I missed all of it and all of her. Sighing as I clicked on the TV, I wondered at the emptiness inside of me. A few months ago, a wife and family were nothing I wanted. Now, it’s all I wanted, but only with Monica.

  Every time I considered driving to her place to make her listen, I remembered her scare with Steve. I would never force myself into her home, but I now understood the man’s desperation. She did something to a man that drove him mad. Yet, Steve was nothing like me, except for our love for the same woman. I would not force myself into her life if she did not want me there, but calling and texting were getting me nowhere, and I was running out of sane ways to proceed. With every day that passed, I became more aware of the truth: Monica was not going to forgive me.

  If only she understood that I was not ashamed of her. I was ashamed of my family. Monica was the best thing in my life and the best part of my day. She showed me a glimpse of the life I always wanted but never thought I could have, a life my family would look down on me for wanting. Never was I afraid of their disappointment or disapproval. I was afraid of what she would think about them, and in turn, me. And now, I lost her.

  My phone buzzed beside me, and my heart leaped in my chest as it always did, even when it was never Monica. Looking down, I saw Brent’s name flashing on my screen and groaned, wondering if there was another issue with our latest merger. Despite the trouble between his sister and me, Brent made a 180 from his previous feelings on the matter. I never asked him questions about Monica, not wanting to drag him into the situation, and he never said, but our friendship seemed to be back on track.