by Deja Voss
“Well, sushi is out of the question,” he says.
“And coffee,” I whine.
“Pizza and root beer are still on the table, though.”
“Yeah. Do I have to wear my tooth?” I ask, holding up the fake tooth on a retainer the dentist gave to me for the time being. I’m going to have to get a dental implant, but it could take up to six months, and he highly advised against having it done during pregnancy because it wasn’t an emergency situation.
“I don’t care what you do with that damn thing,” he laughs. “I wouldn’t leave it laying around the bar though. You might creep some people out.”
“Fine,” I say dramatically.
His hand hasn’t left my body since last night. It’s kind of sweet. I know that the last few days have been full of drama and chaos and unexpected turns of events, and the way that he’s caring for me makes me feel safe. It almost makes me feel like we’re a normal couple and if we were to just go on our life journey like this, we could be perfectly content.
Still, I’m struggling with keeping the other man off my mind. I should hate him. I should want nothing to do with him, but for all I know, we’re going to be bonded for the rest of our lives by this child. I know it sounds terrible, but I’d give anything to see him right now, or at least talk to him.
I know it’s not the smart thing to do. I know it’s not the right thing to do. I don’t think there’s any greener grass than the pasture I’m standing in with Tank, but these what ifs plague my thoughts. I’ll just have to bite my tongue.
By the time we have lunch, I’m exhausted. I can barely keep my eyes open on the ride home. The doctor suggested making sure I eat small meals at least every two hours to keep my nausea down, and I don’t think I’m going to have any problem with that.
We spend the rest of the evening watching TV and lounging around the house. No one calls. No one stops by. It’s like we are the only two people in the world, and it’s kind of awesome.
We go back to the bedroom and he passes out almost instantly, squeezing my body to his, his lips pressed into my back. While I love being so close to him, the heat from his skin is making mine crawl. I guess my hormones are doing exactly what they’re supposed to be doing, reminding me every second of every day that I am pregnant. I can’t get comfortable. The room feels like it’s spinning and I can’t stop sweating.
I sneak out of bed, trying not to disturb him and go to the kitchen for a glass of water.
I must be losing my damn mind in the process, because I hear a chirping sound coming from one of the drawers. Maybe my ears are just ringing. Is that a normal pregnancy side effect?
I chug the water, and the chirping doesn’t stop. I turn on the kitchen light and start tearing through the drawers, looking for whatever it is I’m hearing.
When I hit the junk drawer, this flip phone that looks like it’s at least twenty years old is vibrating all around, lighting up. The number on it is random, but I have a feeling in my gut I know exactly who it is.
I pick it up from the drawer, holding it in my hand, staring at it, trying to think of what the right thing to do would be. Should I wake Tank up?
Should I just put it away and ignore it and pretend like this never happened?
Should I answer it, just in case it’s not who I think it is, and instead is Tank’s secret girlfriend looking for a late-night booty call?
“Hello?” I whisper, my hands trembling.
“Olive, is that you?” The sound of his voice makes my heart beat so fast I think I should probably sit down. I slide to the floor.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Are you ok?”
“I’m fine. Everything is fine. You can come home now.”
The silence is deafening.
“Red,” I plead. “Everything is under control. Nobody pressed charges. The DA dropped the case. The man was just some random creep who was spying on us. Please come back.”
“I’m sorry, Olive,” he says. “It’s more than that. I love you, girl, I always will, but I can’t do this with you anymore. You need to forget about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I gotta go,” he says. “I’m sorry about everything.”
Just like that, he hangs up the phone.
I feel this overwhelming urge to scream building up in my lungs, as if maybe if I yell loud enough he’ll hear me from wherever he is and come running back, telling me he was just kidding, everything can go back to good again.
Instead, I grab the phone and throw it on the floor as hard as I can. I pick up a frying pan out of the sink and just start wailing on the phone, shattering it, shards of plastic flying as the tears begin flowing.
“Ollie, what are you doing?” Tank is standing in the doorway of the kitchen, just watching. I can see his face sink into sadness when he realizes what’s going on.
I fall to the floor and cry.
Cry because I’m being shitty and selfish, hating myself for letting this person get inside me. Cry because there’s a man I love, a man who would do anything for me standing right in front of me and I can’t just let go of Red. He holds me in his arms and doesn’t say a word, just lets me cry it out, kissing my forehead and squeezing me tight, and all the while I just feel terrible for even putting him through this. What must be going through his mind right now is enough to make me start dry heaving.
I have to stop hurting this man.
There’s only one way to do that. I’m going to redirect my love for Red into hate. He’s dead to me.
“Are you alright?” he whispers. I press my lips to his, needing to feel him, needing to remind myself that what we have is real and it’s not going anywhere.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go back to bed,” he suggests, helping me up off the floor.
“You got anymore secret phones I need to know about?”
“We’ll talk about that in the morning. I think you murdered this one, though.”
“I’m sorry,” I say with a sigh. For everything. For all the crazy I’ve put him through. There’s only so much I can blame on hormones. I can see the hurt in his eyes and I don’t know if it’s because he is mad at me or mad at Red or just plain tired and frustrated.
“Don’t,” he says sternly.
CHAPTER 33
T wo weeks of normal has been good for my soul. I’ve been back to work at the bar with very little incident, although I feel like I’m being babysat by at least three brothers at all times, and if one more of these jackasses asks if they can touch my belly I’m going to have to start throwing punches.
Thanks to the morning sickness, I haven’t put on much weight at all. Still, knowing that I’m carrying a child has changed my urge to wear high-heeled boots and strapless crop tops. I haven’t gone full-blown conservative, and you will have to pry my leather pants out of my cold dead hands, but there are a few things that are getting retired, at least for the next few months.
The ultrasound was basically magical for the two of us, that little bean on the monitor the most beautiful thing I know I’ve ever seen. The paternity test was uneventful, besides the fact that he made it clear he really didn’t want to do it. I gave some blood, he swabbed his cheek, now we wait a few days and I’ll have the peace of mind I need.
No matter what the outcome.
No matter what the outcome, this baby is mine. No matter what the outcome, I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this man. No matter how many envelopes of cash Red has his lawyer drop off at the clubhouse, he’s not entitled to any part of this, at least, not until he has the decency to show his face around here again.
The letter comes in the mail while Tank is at work. I’d already warned him I’m going to open it with or without him home and he just shrugged and said he didn’t care. He doesn’t. He’s made the fact that he’s going to treat this child as his own, regardless of the outcome of our paternity test, perfectly clear.
“Burn it for all I care,” he said when I texted him that the l
etter arrived.
He’s really put his foot down about this, and I’m flattered. I know I’m being kind of a handful right now.
I hold the envelope in my hands and take a deep breath. I know everything is going to be ok. This is just the last piece of the puzzle, the last thing I need to do to put my mind at rest.
“What do you think, tiny person?” I ask. “Who’s going to be your real dad?”
Nothing has ever come easy to me.
Even when things are supposed to, there’s always some sort of hitch. There’s always some sort of twist, but when I pull open the letter and see those words, I feel like things are finally turning around.
Thurston Ellis, paternity confirmed.
It takes everything in me to refrain from doing a cartwheel. I am pretty sure I’d probably lose the rest of my teeth if I tried that stunt right now. Instead, I start to cry. Tears of joy. I don’t know what I was worried about, but I am relieved. I am free from Red.
Now I just have to focus on this little Tank growing inside of me. Staying healthy. Keeping my stress levels low. It’s all going to be so easy for once.
My phone rings and I can’t help but laugh.
“What’s it say?” he asks.
“I thought I was supposed to burn it. Do you want me to get it out of the oven?”
“Quit playing.”
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, Tank. You’re going to be a dad.”
“For real?” he stammers. I can hear the excitement in his voice.
“I have it in writing. Sorry, bud; you’re the one who willingly let the doctor swab your cheek.”
“You know it wouldn’t have made a difference either way. This is great news, though.”
“You want to tell your parents?” I ask. I know it’s been hard for him to keep it from them. I just wasn’t comfortable until we got that first ultrasound. I’d hate to have to ‘untell’ them the news, should anything go wrong.
“We should both tell them. You know they’re going to want to know when we’re getting married, though.”
“Well that’s up to you, Tank.” I never in my life thought anyone would want to marry me. All these girls spend their time daydreaming about their perfect wedding, that was never something I let myself do. Girls like me don’t usually get that luxury. We usually end up being the fun aunt, forty years old with a house full of cats and a basement full of wine and a bunch of boyfriends, but never any that want to settle down.
“It’s kind of up to you, too, you know. You do have a say in this,” he says. “We’ll talk about it tonight.”
We gotta get through Gavin and Sloan’s wedding next month first, though. I know she’s my best friend and she’d never complain outwardly, but I can’t let all this upstage her big day.
“Did you take your vitamins?” he asks. “Did you eat some fruit today? The doctor said ten fruits and vegetables. How much water have you drank?”
“Goddamn, Tank,” I giggle. “Is this how it’s going to be now? You just don’t worry about it. I got this under control. Besides, the only thing this baby likes right now is ice cream.”
“I love you, Olive. I know you’re going to be a great mom.”
“There’s no doubt you’re going to be an awesome dad. I love you so much. Go get your work done. I want to see you.”
“I’ll be home soon,” he assures me.
CHAPTER 34
“T his is not good. Not good at all,” I whine, holding up the bridesmaids gown that is definitely way too snug for me now.
“You did this on purpose didn’t you,” Sloan laughs, “You wanted to get out of wearing this hideous thing so you went and got yourself knocked up. Come on in, sweetie. It’s going to be ok.”
“You bitch!” I tease. “You knew all along this dress was a nightmare. What did I ever do to you?”
“Aunt Ollie!” their daughter, Evie, squeals as she spots me. She comes bouncing over, her chubby little legs still learning how to navigate themselves in a straight line. “This my dress?”
“Might as well be. It’ll probably look better on her than me at this point,” I say.
“More sparkles!”
“This child is pretty smart, Sloan. There is definitely not enough sparkles on this thing.”
Their Rottweiler, Rosie, nudges my hand until I pet her big head as she slobbers all over my foot. She probably weighs more than I do, but she’s the most docile dog I’ve ever met. Once she’s satisfied, she pitter-patters across the hardwood floor to her bed and flops to the ground.
Esther walks out of the kitchen with a sewing kit in one hand and what looks like a suitcase in the other. She unfolds it on the table, and it’s a little sewing machine.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” I ask. Esther seems like the last person I’d expect to sew as a hobby.
“Aunt Mary’s house was really boring. I spent that summer ripping up all her muumuus and turning them into really tacky miniskirts. It’s a good skill to have. Especially when you work with strippers and escorts. You never know when somebody is gonna need a rhinestone replaced on their G-string.”
“Sparkles!” Evie shouts, spotting the tackle box full of sequins and stones.
“Let me see that thing,” she says, and I hand her the dress. “If I cut this here and here, and we bring the waist up to here…” She demonstrates what she’s going to do to make the dress wearable, and I think I actually might like it better than what it looks like as is.
“That’s fine by me, Esther,” Sloan says. “Plus there’s the sash for the waist.”
“Why don’t you just put a big arrow on it that says dumbass while you’re at it.”
“You’re not a dumbass,” Esther assures me. “You’re a Misfit, and this is pretty much how we do things around here.”
“I’ve been really bothered about something,” I tell her. “That night you were mad when I stopped over. You said there was a mole?”
“It was looking that way.”
“Do you think it was me? Like something I could’ve said in front of someone at the bar that might’ve gotten into the wrong hands? Do you think that’s why Buzzy was hanging around?”
“I think it goes deeper than that. You don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I even said something in front of you.”
“What about Stacy?” I know she’s just a bartender at the Bucktail, hell, she doesn’t really even hang out outside of work, but the way she reacted the night of the incident is kind of bugging me. How did she know I was going to be ok?
“I don’t know enough about her to say. I trust my brother’s judgment in who he hires. I do know that girl could probably turn any of the men into a mole if they thought they had a chance to hit it,” she laughs.
“I think it might be time for Evie to go to bed,” Sloan says, raising her eyebrows.
“Oh, she doesn’t know what that means,” I say.
“More sparkles!” she yells, pointing to the box.
I hug my ‘niece’ and Sloan carries her up to the bedroom. I find myself feeling kind of excited that I’m going to get to do that soon with my own kid. I’m going to have my own little person, and hopefully they will be as in love with sparkles as Evie is, because I will Bedazzle every surface of the house if that’s the case.
Esther wraps the measuring tape around my waist and I groan.
“I’m turning into a total fat ass,” I whine.
“You are not. You’re fine. You’re allowed anyway. You should enjoy this time.”
“When are you guys going to have kids?” I ask. Her and Brooks have been married for over a year now, and I know that starting a family of their own is something that they both wanted, but it’s seemed to have fallen off to the side.
“We’re working on it. It’s probably just not in the cards for us right now. Between the stress of the club and opening the ranch it just doesn’t seem to be working, no matter how hard we try. But hey, trying is the fun part, right?”
I can hear the sadness in
her voice, and in this moment, I feel guilty that it happened so easily for me. That I wasn’t even trying. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like if I had actually been wanting to get pregnant and it didn’t work.
“Maybe my fertility is contagious,” I suggest. “You want me to cough in your mouth?”
She’s laughing, even though it’s really not that funny.
“Get over here,” she says, holding up the cut up skirt. “I want you to see if this fits.”
There’s a knock on the front door, and Sloan checks her waistband for her pistol. The men are out on a run tonight, and since we are down an enforcer for the time being, our usual babysitters aren’t here to keep an eye on us.
She peeks through the peephole and puts her head in her hand.
“Who is it?” Esther asks.
Sloan opens the door and steps out on the porch. We both just look at each other, knowing that something is up.
“She really didn’t think we were just going to sit here while she keeps us in the dark, right?” Esther asks.
We get up and go to the window, pulling the curtains aside. My heart nearly falls out of my mouth when I see who she’s talking to. I push Esther aside and throw open the front door.
“They’re not here,” she says to him firmly. “Do you want to use my phone?”
She holds out her cell phone, but he just stands there with his arms crossed. When he looks over at me, I don’t know if I want to cry, throw a punch, hug him, or just slam the door and lock it behind me.
“Olive,” he says, his expression turning to sadness.
“What are you doing here?” I mumble, not sure what else there is to say. He’s supposed to be in hiding. He’s supposed to be anywhere but here. He looks attractive as ever, a little skinnier than I’m used to, and I can tell by the lines on his face he’s not sleeping well, but underneath that, he’s still the strapping bad boy biker who took up space in my head and in my bed a few short months ago.
