Why Not? (Love Riddles Book 3)

by Carey Heywood

  Without asking, I drive to her place. “Too soon? You’re pregnant. I want to be there for every part of it.”

  As soon as I park she’s out of her door and heading for the back of my SUV. “Why can’t we keep things the way they are? You’re not missing anything. We’ve spent every night together since you found out I was pregnant.”

  “You like this? Splitting our stuff between two places. Always running back and forth because you don’t have the shoes that match your outfit at my house,” I argue, meeting her at the back.

  She huffs when I grab both of our bags, then turns on her heel and charges toward her house. She reaches the door first and makes a point of not holding it open for me. With a bag in each hand, I look skyward. She’s lucky I care about her as much as I do, or otherwise she’d be a serious pain in my ass.

  I shift the bags so I have both in one hand and open the door. “Why are you pissed?”

  There’s a cough and I grimace when I see Julie and her boy standing in their doorway. “It’s okay,” she replies, her eyes moving to Reilly’s door.

  “Pissed!” Dylan shouts.

  “That’s a bad word,” Julie admonishes.

  I mouth ‘I’m sorry’ as I open Reilly’s door and move through it.

  Dropping the bags on the floor, I grumble, “Thanks for helping with the doors.”

  She’s in her kitchen, banging doors and slamming drawers as she pulls down a bowl and takes out a spoon.

  “Reilly,” I snap.

  She turns, shaking her spoon at me. “No, Trip. No.”

  What the fuck?

  “Move in with you?” she asks, ignoring my comment about the doors, her voice rising.

  Without another word, she turns around and opens her freezer. Next, she pulls out a carton of ice cream and starts liberally spooning some into her bowl.

  “I don’t see why moving in with me is such a bad idea.”

  Is crazy a side effect of pregnancy?

  “You wouldn’t, Mr. Speedracer,” she mocks.

  I lift my hand, her tantrum was cute but I’m over it. “I’m not forcing you to do anything. I made a simple suggestion. Sue me.”

  She shoves a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, then gives me a long blink.

  “Your brother told me what that blink thing means, Reilly. If you’re going to roll your eyes at me, why don’t you do it with your eyes open.”

  Her eyes narrow. “Yeah, you and Jake got chummy fast. No surprise since you told him you wanted me to marry you, which I’m still pissed off about.”

  Charging to her, I pluck the bowl and spoon from her hands. She tries to fight me for them, but I hold both high above my head.

  She stops struggling for them and folds her arms over her chest. “Give me back my ice cream.”

  “No,” I reply.

  She glares then repeats on a shout, “Give me back my ice cream!”

  “First you need to explain to me why wanting to get married and asking you to move in with me pisses you off,” I order.

  One of her hands lifts to brush across the pendant my mom gave her.

  “I can only deal with one thing at a time. You’re rushing, and I need to process stuff before I can handle the next big thing.”

  At this point, I want to point out that her method of processing things is probably the reason her place was a cluttered wreck before me.

  “What are you processing now?”

  She walks away from me and to her couch where she sits, tucking her legs under and to her side. She counts off with her fingers. “I’m pregnant. That one is a doozy. I’ve agreed to be your girlfriend which is also a big step, and I met your mom. Granted, I was way more nervous and dealing with that before meeting her, and since she liked me and I liked her, I’m not stressing out about that one so much anymore. Except for the fact our baby will probably be a Gemini, and that somehow means the baby will be extra fussy and won’t sleep.”

  I crossed the room as she speaks. When she stops, I give her back her ice cream.

  Sinking down to sit next to her, I rest my hand on her thigh. “I get it. I’ll stop pushing so much.”

  She leans forward and sets her bowl on her coffee table. Then, she turns and falls against me. “You’re being so good and the things you’re asking aren’t crazy. I’m sorry I’m being crazy.”

  She buries her face in my chest, and I wrap my arms around her. Now would not be a good time to laugh, but this shit is funny. Two minutes ago I was pissed as hell, but now I want to laugh. Jesus.

  “It’s going to be okay, Reilly. We’re good. I’m not pissed, and I promise everything is going to be alright.”

  She nods against my chest, then mumbles. “Can you pass me my ice cream?”

  My chest shakes with laughs I can’t hold in. “Sure. If you drip any on me, you’re in trouble.”

  She moves with me as I lean forward to grab her bowl. Once I pass it to her, she turns and I keep her tucked under my arm while she eats.

  When she’s done, I take it to the kitchen. My house has a dishwasher. Hopefully, I’ll be able to coax her into spending more time there. Especially once the baby comes. She only has one bedroom. I have three.

  “You didn’t have to clean that,” she murmurs when I return to her.

  I raise my brows and she laughs. “Fine, it’s probably a good thing you did.”

  Once I sit back down, I say, “You’re too far away.”

  She huffs, “I’m right here.”

  I glance at my lap and then back at her. It’s obvious that she’s forgiven me when she crawls over and straddles my thighs. Only thing hotter than regular sex with Reilly is make-up sex.

  Many, many hours later, with her naked body pressed to mine, she falls asleep.

  For me, sleep doesn’t come. I content myself with holding her. It kills me that she feels pressured. As much as I hate it, I need to force myself to slow down.

  I don’t like how up in the air things are. Yes, we’re a couple, but without the ties of marriage or even a shared living space, that could end tomorrow.

  I’ve gone from wanting no strings to wanting to be tied to her in every way possible. The night I told her I didn’t want kids I was lying. I’ve always wanted kids. Thing is, after the way Roxanne tried to play me, I didn’t believe I’d ever meet someone I’d want to have them with.

  When her alarm goes off, she starts grumbling about me keeping her up late. The stress that had plagued me while she slept melts away.

  “You weren’t complaining last night,” I tease.

  She yawns before burrowing her face into my chest. “I wasn’t sleepy last night.”

  I sit up, taking her with me. “A shower will wake you.”

  She’s a walking zombie until I get her under the spray. Then with my mouth and my hands on her, the last of her sleep wears off. We are both awake and sated by the time our shower is done. Once it’s time to leave, we walk out to our SUVs together.

  “Where are we sleeping tonight?” I ask.

  She glances up at the window of her living room before replying, “Since we slept at my house last night, we can sleep at yours tonight.”

  That concession on her part deserves a reward. Pressing her up against the side of her Jeep, I kiss her long and hard. My current strategy to avoid pressuring her or freaking her out is to keep my mouth shut.

  Kissing is the exception.

  “What was that for?” She breathes once I let her up for air.

  I grin in response, making her shake her head. She does it smiling though, so I’ve managed an entire morning of staying on her good side.

  I drive away first since I’m blocking her in. After a pit stop at my place to change, I head in to work.

  Walt meets me at the door. “We got a tip on the vacant house vandals.”

  Turning with him we move to an unmarked cruiser. “Fill me in.”

  “Call came in this morning, non-emergency, couple bought a new-to-them fridge but got bad vibes from the seller. The
y were concerned the fridge might be stolen and gave us the serial number to run. It matched the fridge stolen from one of the houses last month.”

  We spend the next hour interviewing the couple who unknowingly purchased stolen property. The information we were able to obtain from them is our first solid lead on this case. We have not only a description of the seller and a gentleman who was with him, but also an address where the purchase occurred and the social media profile of the seller since the fridge was listed on a social yard sale group online.

  The couple we interviewed agreed to give us their login information and password so we could have our tech guys transcribe the entire virtual conversation.

  Once we’re back in the cruiser, Walt asks, “What do you feel like for lunch?”

  “Lola’s work?” I ask.

  He nods and pulls out.

  “Tomorrow I’m taking Reilly to the doctor at eleven so eat without me.”

  There’s a jerk to the car as his foot hits the break.

  He plays it off and replies, “Why are you taking her to the doctor?”

  “Only a few people know but, she’s pregnant,” I answer.

  He pulls over and makes a show of looking at his watch. “We have been in each other’s presence for over four hours today, and this is the first I’m hearing of this?”

  “Dude.”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t dude me. I am your partner. This is the type of information we share, man.”

  I grin and he keeps on shaking his head. “Uhn un. Nope, you smiling might do something for the female persuasion, but that shit does nothing for me. I’ma let you get away with this shit one time.”

  “Alright, man,” I mutter.

  He pulls into the parking lot of Lola’s. “I can not believe you knocked up Reilly Whitmore. There’re going to be some broken hearts in town. Boys, been making fools of themselves for that girl for years.”

  This doesn’t surprise me.

  “You’re buying me lunch to make up for it,” he says with a smirk as he shifts out of the cruiser.

  We’ve gotten in the habit of alternating paying for each other’s lunches, and it was already my day so I ignore him.

  “Hey Trip,” Sydney greets when I walk in the door.

  Walt and I join Heath Mackey at the counter. Before I started seeing Reilly, Heath would get territorial with me around Sydney. I liked Sydney but wasn’t attracted to her in a romantic way.

  I didn’t know her before the mudslide, so my first memory of her was of her broken, bloodied, mud-caked body. My focus was on saving her, and in my line of work, we don’t always get happy endings.

  Watching her heal and get better was a privilege. Her Gigi and Pops are good people so, considering how long it took for her injuries to heal, I got attached to them.

  At the time of the mudslide, I already knew I was moving to Ferncliff. I liked the idea of already having some friends when I moved, so I made it a point to stay in touch with her even after she left the rehab center.

  “Hey Sydney, Heath,” I reply, settling my ass on a stool.

  “What can I get you?” she asks.

  After she walks away to put in our orders, I turn to Heath. “How’ve you been?”

  He shrugs. “Some days are harder than others.”

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” I reply.

  His eyes move to Sydney as she returns with our drinks. “She’s the one keeping me sane. My dad moved into my place, and I moved in upstairs with Sydney.”

  “Was it hard, convincing her to move in together?” I ask.

  His drink is suspended halfway as he pauses to grin at me. Without drinking, he sets it back on the counter. “Are you trying to get Reilly to move in with you?”

  I frown and he laughs before clapping me on the back. “Good luck.”

  Walt leans forward and shoots a grin at Heath. “She’s got him wrapped around her finger. Do you know he washes her dishes?”

  Walt says this like he would tell Heath I paint her toenails.

  Since Heath helped nurse Sydney back to health, I’m sure he doesn’t think I need to turn in my mancard for washing some dishes.

  “Hey, Reilly’s on.” Sydney sets down our drinks and grabs the TV remote to turn the volume up.

  She’s in the station with that news anchor I don’t like. He always stands too close to her and looks at her like a predator sizing up his prey.

  “You’re putting what where?”

  She doesn’t repeat herself. What she does do is put a condom-looking thing on the wand thing and glance toward my firmly closed legs.

  Trip reaches for my hand, and I give him wide eyes. Up until now, my doctor appointment was going great. We did the usual stuff, weight, pee in a cup, blood pressure, and some blood work.

  I was expecting the hospital gown and an ultrasound like you see in the movies. The glob of goo on your belly and then the thing that the ultrasound tech rubs over it to make the picture come up on the screen. Nope, now we do internal ultrasounds. Suddenly this pregnancy has gone from surreal, to scary, and now to freaky. There’s a baby growing inside me. I’m like a host to a parasite, not that my baby is a parasite. There has to be a nicer way to describe it. I’d ask Trip but he’s being so sympathetic and he’d probably take it the wrong way if I asked him what another word for parasite was.

  I focus on him, on his face, and not the fact that Laura Triton’s mom is inserting a probe in my vagina. Also, by focusing on his face, I’m not thinking about the fact that he’s watching Laura Triton’s mom put a probe inside me.

  Then I hear it, and watch in real time at Trip’s face as he hears it.

  The heart beat.

  Our baby’s heart beat.

  I gulp and press my lips together, my eyes locking with his. His eyes are pure wonder. Turning my head, I look at the screen. The image is black, white, and gray. The gray takes up most of the image but in the center is a circle with another circle inside of that. The inner circle is black and flutters with the whoosh of a heartbeat we hear.

  “It looks like we can estimate your due date as June sixteenth,” Dr. Triton says.

  “Was that the day your mom said?” I whisper to Trip.

  His eyes are glued to the screen, his expression so awed it brings tears to my eyes. He didn’t hear my question, and I don’t repeat it. Instead, I lie there and watch him take it all in.

  As unexpected as this whole thing is, I never could have imagined he would have reacted like this. He’s all in. He’s not just going through the motions. No, it’s as if he truly wants this baby.

  He quickly looks to the side, his eyes blinking. Did he . . . was he . . . were there tears in his eyes?

  Cue the crying for real for me.

  He looks back, this time at me, and reaches his hand up to brush away my tears. “We’re having a baby.”

  My throat is thick when I repeat his words in agreement. “We’re having a baby.”

  After our appointment, I stop in the ladies’ room to fix my face, ensuring my mascara didn’t run. Luckily, it didn’t.

  Trip waits for me since he drove. He has to go back to work after he drops me off at my place. As soon as I’m out the door, he takes my hand. I recognize more than one face turn our way as we walk out of the office hand in hand.

  “Be prepared,” I mutter once I’m in his ride.

  “For what?” he asks.

  “All of Ferncliff is going to know by morning,” I reply.

  He shrugs and pulls out of the parking lot. “I already told you that doesn’t bother me. How are you feeling about people knowing you’re pregnant?”

  I shift in my seat. “Nervous, I guess. It all depends on how people are when they approach me about it. If someone acts happy and excited, that’s cool because I’m happy and excited. If someone asks judge-y and rude, I don’t know how I’ll react.”

  “No one is going to act rude to you because you’re pregnant.”

  I stare out my window and watc
h my town flash by. “You’d be surprised. Remember how I face-planted on live TV? I heard plenty of rude comments about it after the fact. I’m already anticipating it making a revival just because of your name.”

  “My name?” he asks.

  “I tripped, now Trip knocked me up. It’s kinda poetic, I guess.”

  “Can you stop saying I knocked you up?” he grumbles.

  My eyes move from the window to him. He’s got a death grip going on the steering wheel, the whites of his knuckles showing. Whoa, what’s that about?

  “I didn’t realize it bothered you so much,” I reply.

  His grip loosens, and he sucks in a breath before saying, “I don’t want anyone thinking our baby is unwanted.”

  “Okay,” I agree, the word coming out in a whoosh.

  He offers me his hand and I slip mine into it. We’re in this together, even though because of me, we’re living apart. God, this is complicated.

  Now, I did tell him earlier I’d take things one step at a time. It’s still way too soon to be considering something as crazy as marriage but . . .

  “What if I started staying at your place more often?” I ask.

  He glances at me and then back to the road. “Like on a trial basis?”

  “Oh, a trial basis, yes, I can do that. I mean, I’d still keep my place with Julie so I’m not bailing on her, but I can try spending more time at your house.”

  He squeezes my hand. “Sounds like a good idea.”

  One side of my mouth tips up. He wants this, it’s written all over his body, but he’s holding back from showing it to not pressure me.

  “Okay, I’ll pack up a few things and come over once you’re done with work,” I reply.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t want you carrying anything. I’ll swing by your place once I’m done, and pick your stuff up. Then you can follow me in your Jeep.”

  When we get to my place, he walks me up, giving me a kiss that seriously leaves me wanting before he goes.

  Wanting soon turns into stir-crazy, so I text Jake to see if I can come hang out with him while he works. He’s laying a stone paver patio not far from my place.