Picture Us (Turn it Up Book 3)

by Natalie Parker

  “But I can and you’re telling me to, is that right?”

  “I’m giving you an out,” she says, finally looking back up, her expression tired but otherwise unreadable. “You don’t do commitments, and this… is one hell of a commitment don’t you think?”

  I look back down, gripping my hands together in frustration. I’m trying not to go off at her assessment of me. I get where she’s coming from. Her knowledge of me is limited, and one of the few things she does know is that no, I don’t like being tied down, and yes, this would very well do that. But to think I would just run off with my tail between my legs, that I would recoil like a coward from doing the right thing really chafes at me.

  “Just because I choose not to engage in long-term relationships…” I take in a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to keep myself in check, “does not make me less of a man.” I look back up at her and level her with heavy sincerity in my gaze. She has to understand the level of seriousness in my words. “I’m not a deadbeat, Annie.” I nod with my words, conveying the affirmation in them. “I treat people with respect. I’m honest in all of my interactions and I do the right thing.” Her eyes hold mine and I can see her processing all the information I’m laying on her. She still looks uncertain, but she’s listening. “I get where you’re coming from with your assumptions. You’re right; this isn’t what I would plan for myself, but don’t think for a minute that that’s going to stop me from doing right by you. I’m not leaving you to go through this alone.”

  She doesn’t respond with any words; she just let’s out a sigh along with a barely perceptible nod. She shifts in her seat and it’s just now that I notice that while she’s still in the hoodie from before that looks hot as hell on her, she’s changed into a pair of girly sleep shorts that make her toned legs look incredible as she tucks one underneath her. I have to mentally crack the whip on my cock and tell him to stay the fuck down and refocus on this monumental conversation.

  “I have to ask…” I add, because I really am curious. “Why’d you even tell me if you were just going to let me duck out of it?”

  It’s her turn to level me with a serious stare. “Because, the truth…” she pauses to make sure I’m attentive, “always comes out. Always. No matter what. And I feel a person should know they played a part in creating a life. Its better you find this truth out now rather than a few months down the road when you run into me on the street with a swollen belly. Or worse yet, a few years later when you bump into me with a child that looks just like you.” Her words send my imagination spinning as I picture both of these scenarios. I tense up at the idea of finding out that way, and it feels like ice being poured down my back. What she says holds a lot of merit and makes so much sense. I’m overcome with appreciation all of a sudden. No matter what happens between me and her, I’m glad to know right now, at the same time she does.

  “It will come out. Its better it comes out now.” She finishes with a heavy shrug. With the pictures she just painted for me, it seems safe to assume she’s going through with it. She’s keeping it. With this realization, I’m hit with a tidal wave of shock. Not by the notion itself, but at how it doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t freak me out or make me feel sick to my stomach. For some reason, it feels right and that’s the craziest thing I’ve ever considered.

  “Fair enough,” I come back to the conversation and nod gently at her logic, before looking up at her again to ask her about another thing that’s just started to gnaw at me. “But what’s with the way you told me? Charging into my office and calling me a jackass? What in the hell made you think that was a good way of delivering news like this?” She rolls her eyes and I try to lighten my chastisement. “I mean, come on, I’m a tough guy, but you could have handled that with a little bit of sensitivity,” I try to chuckle while I hold up my thumb and forefinger together.

  “That was for having your little boy-bitch, Colin or whatever-his-name-is stonewall me when I came in and said I needed to talk to you.”

  “What are you talking about? Do you mean Colton? What did he do?” I seriously have no idea what Colton did, but I’m just now getting a flash of him helplessly trailing after her earlier.

  “He told me all about how you have to beat off all the clingers with a stick and you’ve designated him as your scrawny little bodyguard to get rid of them when they come around looking for you.” She’s holding her hands out at her sides and her speech is so heavy with cynicism it’s almost funny. What she’s saying detracts me enough from laughing because, what the fuck? I never told Colton to do that.

  “Annie, hang on. I never told Colton to do that. With anyone.” Fuck, now I’m wondering how many times he’s done that to a woman that’s come in looking for me. No, I don’t want to have to deal with it, but I will. I meant what I said; I face things like a man. I wouldn’t hide in my office like a pathetic coward while I had one of my employees do my bidding. It should be a non-issue anyway because I make it a point not to let any women of interest know where I work, just to avoid that very thing.

  Except Annie. I broke two of my rules to go out with her. Actually, I seem to have thrown my rulebook over my shoulder when it comes to her.

  “You didn’t?” Annie’s challenging tone snaps me back to the moment. She’s leaning forward, her eyes searching for the truth. I look straight back at her so she knows I’m telling it.

  “No. I didn’t. I had no idea he was out there keeping you from talking to me,” especially when I’d been waiting for a month to see her again. “And he’s going to hear from me about this,” I finish in a low tone that conveys my anger at the kid.

  Annie blinks, and looks down at the floor. “Sorry, I… I was pretty much running on pure adrenaline at that moment. I was freaked out, nervous to tell you, and here was this punk trying to dismiss me…” her words are coming out in a nervous flow and I rush to settle her.

  “It’s okay,” I lean forward and reach my hand out, stopping when it hovers just over hers, unsure if she wants me to take it or not. I end up curling my fingers back in and join my hands together. “Really, I get it. It’s okay. No worries, let’s just… move forward.” We both let out a sigh that fills the silence in the room for a moment before I speak again. “Do you want to tell me what forward is? What’s the next step? Please tell me what you want to do so I can be there for it.”

  She leans into her hand and rubs it over her face. “I guess tomorrow I’ll call my doctor’s office and set up an appointment, just to confirm everything and find out how far along…” she trails off and waves a hand over herself. Since she told me the news, I’ve noticed we’ve both avoided using certain words like pregnant and baby. It’s like we’re trying to exist in this small space where nothing is real until you make it so with your words.

  “I’d like to be there,” I tell her as I move over to her and get down on my knees in front of her, resting my hands on her legs. She looks me up and down with interest but doesn’t push me away. I’m not even thinking about my actions, they’re just happening, as they often do when I’m with her.

  What’s happening is so surreal. This is not something I ever thought I wanted for myself, yet here I am, deep in the reality of it and I’m completely blown away by how not afraid I am. I feel this intrinsic need to be the strong, stable rock that she needs, more than I need to lose my mind. Beyond that, I feel like some sort of bond has been forged and thrown around us like an invisible lasso, holding us together, and I’m absolutely astonished at how I’m not hating the feeling of it. It’s something I’ve gone to great lengths to avoid with everyone else, but right now with her… it’s not terrifying. It’s not stifling or confining. It’s just… nice. Never in a million years would I have thought…

  “Okay,” she nods. “And after that?” I can tell by her searching eyes that she’s trying to have trust in this. In me. I guess I can’t blame her. Here’s a man that’s been living his life all fun and no drama, no ties and no commitments, sitting here telling her he wants to
step up and do his part. It’s going to take time for her to see that she can count on me, and I can be patient for that.

  “After that, I’m going to be there for the next one. I’m in this with you.” God, I can’t believe how easily these words are coming out of my mouth. No hesitation; no wavering, no uncertainty. I mean every one of them.

  When she walks me to the door, I turn towards her. Standing in the darkened doorway, I can just make out her features in the fractured rays of streetlights through the trees. In the time I’ve spent with Annie, I’ve seen different shades of her, but all in the brightest hues. I’ve seen her be zesty, friendly, sassy, and always self-assured. What I’m seeing now is a darker shade. Though she’s doing her best to keep up a tough exterior, she appears lost; scared. It makes me feel both sad and privileged to be seeing it.

  I move once again, with no thought involved. I bring my arms around her shoulders. Her hands come up between us and press against my chest, not trying to push me away, but trying to keep me from coming too close. I rest my chin on her head and let out a sigh.

  “Please,” I say in a way that’s firm but still pleading.

  She blows out a breath and it feels like one of cleansing relief rather than exasperation as she turns her head to rest on my chest, her hands sliding down to the sides of my ribcage inside of my jacket. I can feel their warmth through the material of my shirt and it brings a flood of emotions through me, entangled with memories of our incredible night together. I close my eyes and welcome the images of her smiling at me in the bar, pressing her against me on the dance floor, her panting beneath me, falling asleep next to her, her look of content and focus as she milled around my bar with her camera, yelling at me that she’s pregnant before stalking off, opening her door to me tonight, to this moment right now.

  I know I should probably let go of her and not overwhelm her with my need to envelope her in my arms and hold her without ever letting go. She’s processing a lot, and while we need to stick together, I should probably respect that she needs a little time and space if she’s going to trust me.

  10

  The next morning, yet another roadblock keeps me from talking to Mayzie. I dialed her first thing when I woke up, even though I know the band tends to keep late hours while on tour and that she might still be asleep. I took a chance and sure enough, her doting, attentive rock star husband, Jack, answered her phone and told me that they’d “had kind of a night” and he didn’t want to wake her.

  Hey, Universe! You were supposed to get me one of those, and then knock me up!

  Fortunately, I only spend about half an hour working on photo edits without actually working before she calls.

  “Hey,” I greet nervously when I pick up.

  “Hey, just returning your call, what’s up?”

  “Have you had your coffee?” I ask. I need her alert for this.

  “Yeeaahh…” she draws it out, letting me know she’s curious where I’m going with this. “I’m having it right now. Why?” she asks, skeptically.

  “Put it down,” I order her, calmly.

  “Oh, dear God…” she says, but I hear a faint clunk of her coffee cup being set down on some kind of surface, before she blows out a breath. “What’s this all about? Hurry up and spit it out. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Fine. I’m pregnant.” And actually, I’m pretty thankful she made me pull the Band-Aid off like that. I’m relieved already. I should get her a present.

  My proclamation is met with a few seconds of stunned silence, followed by Mayzie attempting to speak.

  “Wh-what?” she asks, and I can practically see her forehead crinkle in confusion and her eyes get all squinty.

  “You heard me right,” I say gently.

  “Oh my God, Annie. When did you find out? And who…? Oh my God. Tyler. Right?”

  “Yesterday, and yes.” I take her through every bit of my last twenty-four hours, and when I’m finished, a huge sigh of relief I had no idea I was holding in all that time blows out of me. While this is still happening and I’m freaked out as all get out, a huge weight has been lifted after unloading it all over the phone with her.

  “So, he’s in this with you?” she responds to the last part I told her about Tyler coming over last night.

  “Yeah… at least he said so last night,” I murmur, trying to fathom the words coming out of my mouth. “He said it a few times actually, and I… I think I believe him.”

  “With everything you said about how he was acting, I think I do too,” she states. “I mean, at the end of the day, we all know Tyler is a good person. It makes sense…” She has no idea how her sentiments are reassuring me right now.

  “Yeah. You’re right. It’s going to be okay,” I affirm, more to myself than to her.

  “It is. I promise it will be. Wish I was there with you though. I hate that I have to be so far away, right now of all times!” And this is why she’s my best friend. As I talk to her more, I feel my confidence, along with a positive light, start to seep back into me. I wish she was here physically, but I find myself not needing that so much. She’s thousands of miles away, but she’s here.

  Later that day, I manage to get a doctor’s appointment scheduled for Tuesday at eleven in the morning. The nerves shoot back into my system slightly when I pull up Tyler’s name on my phone. We’ve never had phone interaction before: should I call? Text? I bet he prefers text. I start tapping out a message, and keep it short and to the point.

  Annie: Doctor’s appointment made. Tuesday at 11.

  I watch for a second to see if he responds before setting my phone down next to my laptop. I’m starting to refocus on the wedding shots I’m trying to edit on my screen when my phone buzzes with an incoming call. I pick it up to see Tyler’s name flashing across the screen.

  “Hi,” I greet when I pick up, trying not to let the surprise show in my voice.

  “Hey, thanks for letting me know,” he responds.

  “Well… yeah, of course,” I say, shrugging even though he can’t see it. “I’ll text you the address.”

  “No need, I’ll pick you up,” he says casually.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I tell him, trying to sound carefree and not reluctant to be in his car again since the last time I was, I almost had sex with him in it because the fever and lust between us was on full torque, and we didn’t think we’d make it to my front door. I flush at the memory and pick up a stack of papers and start fanning myself. Pathetic.

  “Annie.” Oh, he’s still there. “I want to. I’ll be there to get you at ten-thirty.”

  My jaw hangs open and wavers for a second before I give in. “Okay,” I agree on a relenting sigh. “I’ll see you then, I guess.”

  “Hey,” he stops me before I can end the conversation. “How are you feeling?” His voice sounds almost tender.

  “Um…” I stammer, caught off guard. This is a totally new dynamic for us. “I’m pretty good. Sort of tired and not much of an appetite, but not sick or anything.”

  “That’s good. Try to eat when you feel like you can, okay? And let me know if you need anything.”

  “Uh… okay,” I answer awkwardly. This is so weird but… also nice. “I will,” I say more confidently. I’m actually happy he’s stepping up, even if I’m still a little uncertain about it. I have to give him a chance. I can do that and still keep my guard up.

  “M’kay, gorgeous. I’ll see you Tuesday.” I feel a zing shoot across my chest at the nickname. It’s the second time he’s called me this, and neither time has it been in a cheap, flirty tone. His voice is sweet and gentle when he says it now.

  “See you then,” I say ending the call before he can hear me get choked up. A breath blows out of me with a whoosh as I set my phone down. Fucking hormones.

  I’m trying to stay calm and still as I sit beside Annie in the waiting room of the obstetrician’s office. My knee wants to bounce up and down with nerves as I clench my hands together in my lap while she fills out a
form on a clipboard. I glance around the room for the hundredth time, but there is nowhere for my eyes to look without landing on one swollen stomach or another. I said I’d be here for Annie every step of the way, and I still mean it with everything I have in me. It’s just starting to get a little real. It will pass, it will wear off, it’s just a little daunting right now I tell myself. We’ll get used to this. I just can’t believe this is my life now, nor can I deny that it’s mildly terrifying. I never saw myself as being someone’s father, but that’s what’s going to happen. No matter what. I just need a small grace period to get my head around it is all.

  The door at the far end of the office opens and a nurse in purple scrubs with cartoon teddy-bears on them stands there, looking down at a chart.

  “Annie?” she calls, glancing up from it. Annie and I both stand, and like always, I don’t even consider my physical actions. My fingers lace with hers with no thought at all as we follow the nurse down a hallway and into an exam room.

  We sit down and the nurse takes Annie’s vitals before delving into some questions about her health history while tapping her responses into the computer. When she’s through the seemingly endless, mundane list of the most basic questions you could ask a person, she gets into the subject at hand.

  “Okay, and when was your last period?” she asks.

  Annie looks down at her hands and her cheeks stain just a hint of pink like she’s embarrassed. “Well, it’s always been a little irregular, and I’m not sure of the exact date but it was sometime in the last week of September.”

  “Okay,” the nurse nods, reassuringly. “That’s okay. Any idea when possible conception happened?” she looks between the two of us.

  “October eleventh,” I blurt out. What? It was a monumental night that sadly only happened once, and I just happened to glance at the calendar the next morning and may have committed it to memory. Oh sue me, I wanted to remember it.