Accidental Baby

by Banks, R. R.

  “Jessa – my roommate – should be home soon,” I groan. “We should probably get dressed.”

  He nods. “Do you want me to leave?”

  “No, it's okay,” I reply. “I just don't want her walking in on us naked.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea.”

  I laugh. “Oh, she'd love it. She’d probably suggest a three-way.”

  Aidan gives me a crooked little smile. “Well hey, give me half an hour and –”

  I laugh and slap him on the chest. “Pig.”

  “You’re the one that mentioned it. I was just trying to be compliant.”

  We climb out of bed and get dressed. As we do, I revel in how much easier it feels to be around him now. As much as I'd relished the mind-blowing sex, something about that newfound feeling and ease between us is even better.

  With those thoughts running through my mind, I watch him dress, admiring how his muscles ripple as he moves. I stand there, quietly observing, until I realize I’m staring like some kind of pervert. He looks over and catches me, setting off a warm flush in my cheeks as a wide smile spreads across his face.

  “Enjoying the view?” he asks.

  I clear my throat and do my best to look indignant. “Yeah, it's okay, I suppose.”

  He laughs, and I can't help but join in. He pulls me to him and kisses me deeply, gently. There's a lot of emotion behind that kiss – not just lust and desire anymore. There’s more. And when I pull back, I can see a painful mix of emotions on Aidan’s face. I can only guess what’s going through his mind, and my heart goes out to him.

  But, as quick as that flash of genuine emotion appeared, it’s gone again. Aidan composes himself and is back in the moment. With me. His smile melts my heart and the sparkle in his eye that set my insides ablaze returns.

  Yeah, this is really dangerous. But, for the first time in a very long time, I’m not afraid. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it yet, but for now, I'm content to live in this moment here with him.

  But, I know the ease I feel in this moment might change. I still have to tell him. Jessa is right; Aidan deserves to know. We have some serious decisions to make – together – and I can't control whatever happens after that any more than the sun rising and setting.

  The mere thought of actually having that conversation makes my pulse race, and my heart stutter. It's filling me with an anxiety I've never known before, and suddenly, all I want to do is crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and wish it all away.

  * * *

  “Oliver,” he says sternly. “Bad, bad dog.”

  Oliver is laying on the couch, looking incredibly uncomfortable, his belly very full. The spread Aidan had laid out on the coffee table has been decimated. The peanut butter crackers, croissants, bagels, lox, and half of the danishes he brought, were all wiped out by Hurricane Oliver.

  Oliver rolls over onto his back and groans, but wags his tail, and I can't help but laugh. Aidan looks at me, a stern expression on his face, doing his best to not laugh along.

  “You're not helping,” he says. “You're only encouraging him. He should know better than that.”

  I shrug. “Well, it's not entirely his fault.”

  “No? How do you figure?”

  “Well, if we hadn't been so – distracted – he wouldn't have been so tempted,” I say, and give him a knowing little smile. “I mean, I can't really blame the guy. I know what it's like to want something so bad, you can't resist the temptation.”

  Aidan grins at me, obviously catching my meaning. “Yeah, I suppose I can understand that too.”

  Oliver gives us a half-hearted groan as we clean up the mess he left in the wake of his food orgy. Once we have everything cleaned up, I take a seat next to the big dog and idly stroke his belly while Aidan stretches out in the oversized leather recliner. He looks over at me, and I can see there's something he wants to ask.

  “What is it?” I ask. “I can see it all over your face, so you might as well spit it out.”

  He grins for a moment, and then it falters and fades away completely. I can tell that something is weighing heavy on his conscience, though for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is. And I wonder if it's remotely as serious as what's on my mind right now.

  “The knife,” he finally says, interrupting my inner monologue. “Under the couch cushion. What's it for?”

  Oh. That. That is a conversation I want to have only slightly less than the one where I tell him I’m pregnant.

  Idly stroking Oliver's bloated belly, I let out a long breath and lean back on the couch, debating how much I should tell him. Or whether I should say anything at all. I rack my brain and try to come up with something plausible but can't form a convincing lie fast enough.

  But when I look up into his beautiful blue-grey eyes and realize that I don't want to lie to him. I have no idea why but I feel like I can trust him with the truth; maybe it’s because he carries similar scars and pain.

  I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly.

  “Remember the ex-boyfriend I told you about?” I finally ask.

  “Yeah, I remember.”

  I look down at Oliver who is happily wagging his tail as I rub his belly. I can't bear to look at Aidan as I tell my story. I don't know why, but I can't meet his eyes. Not right now.

  “Well, there's more to the story than I told you,” I say.

  “I know,” he replies.

  That does draw my attention, and I look up. “How could you possibly know?”

  “I can see it in your eyes,” he says. “But, I wasn't going to press you on it. I figured you'd talk to me about it when the time was right. Or not. Either way, it's your story to tell – not something to force out of you.”

  It's amazing how perceptive he is. Or maybe, I'm just lousy about hiding my emotions, and give away more than I think. Either way, I appreciate him not pressing me to talk about something so deeply personal. I think that says a lot about him as a person, honestly. It shows a level of respect for my privacy that I appreciate – something I haven’t found common in men. At least, not the men I've ever known.

  “Victor was abusive,” I say, telling him what he already knows. “But, I never told you how bad it actually was.”

  He remains silent and just watches me with not only a smoldering anger about my abuse in his eyes, but a genuine, sincere compassion that melts my heart. I tell him everything; I tell him about the mental, physical, and emotional abuse I endured at Victor's hands. And the story of how I escaped and ended up here in Ashton Mill.

  Aidan sits forward in his seat, his hands clasped in front of him. He never interrupts me. He just listens. Through it all, I notice his face is darkening. By the time I'm done, his eyes are narrow, and his jaw is clenched – he’s flat-out pissed.

  If his anger was directed at me, it would be terrifying to see such a large man on the verge of exploding with rage.

  “I'm sorry you had to endure that, Katie,” he says, his voice tight with anger. “It's – unbelievable.”

  I shrug. “At least I got away,” I say. “And I know some have it a lot worse than I ever did.”

  “That doesn't diminish your pain or suffering,” he says. “That doesn't minimize what you went through.”

  “Maybe not,” I say, patting Oliver's belly as he begins to snore. “But, I'm one of the lucky ones. I got out. I survived.”

  “Which shows just how strong you are.”

  “I don't know about that –”

  “I do,” he says. “Not everybody has the kind of strength you have, Katie. That kind of courage. Not everyone has the fortitude and strength to rebuild their life like you have. Don't discount that.”

  I feel a burst of heat in my cheeks when Aidan compliments me. I've never been very good at accepting praise. Especially, when I don't feel like I deserve it. It's not like I did anything all that heroic. I escaped. I ran away. If I truly had the strength and courage Aidan thinks I do, I would have done something about V
ictor. Somehow put his ass in jail. The fact that he's still out there, free to victimize another woman – and that he probably will – leaves me feeling unworthy of Aidan's words, no matter how kind and well-intentioned.

  “Why are you carrying around a knife though?” he asks.

  I let out a long breath. “Because he called me last night.”

  “He what?”

  A give him a grim smile. “I don't know how he found my number – I'm not listed anywhere – but he got it, all the same,” I say. “He called me. Made all kinds of vague threats.”

  “Son of a bitch,” he growls.

  “Jessa thinks he's just playing mind games with me,” I say. “That it's another form of abuse and manipulation. That he's trying to regain control. After giving it some thought, I kind of agree with her.”

  “If it's all mind games,” he asks, “then why do you feel the need to carry a knife around with you?”

  I look down at the sleeping dog, doing my best to control the wave of fear that’s threatening to crash over me, sweeping me out to sea. It’s stupid. I know the real story behind the clown-man in the parking lot now, but it's left me rattled. A rueful grin touches my lips as I recount the story to Aidan, telling him how I ran from the restaurant, and how the whole episode had shaken me to my core.

  Aidan nods slightly, deep in thought as he listens. And when I finish, he lets out a slight chuckle.

  “That messed with you, huh?” he asks.

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “And you're sure it was this kid? This – Hollins kid?” he presses.

  I sit back on the couch and shoot Aidan a wry grin. Honestly, I don't have an answer to that question. I really want to believe what Jessa said – that the clown-man was just the Hollins kid playing a stupid prank, totally unrelated to Victor's call. That it was all just a strange coincidence of timing, and one thing has nothing to do with the other. But, some small part of me still isn’t sure. That thinks it could have been Victor – despite all evidence to the contrary. This is the same part that still believes he’s eventually going to show up on my doorstep and kill me.

  “About as sure as I can be. Jessa had seen him do it before,” I say. “But, it's not like I talked to the kid myself.”

  I know my paranoia is a result of the abuse I endured. I've been conditioned to live in fear. To expect the worst and live my life in terror, jumping at every shadow, flinching at every sound. I know that's part of it, if not most of it.

  But, I also know that Victor doesn’t take rejection well. I know he won’t accept being rebuffed or walked out on. And he's definitely not going to tolerate being shown up by a woman. He's too used to getting his own way all the time. And when he doesn't get what he wants, when he wants it, his reaction is usually angry and violent. That's his nature. His default setting. I knew it when I was making my plans to escape. It's why I needed to fall off the face of the earth, and disappear entirely.

  “Are you okay?” he asks gently. “You look scared.”

  Yeah, I'm scared. I'm terrified of my psycho ex, and I don’t know how to tell you that I'm carrying your child. I'm experiencing a regular carnival of fear today, thanks for asking.

  “Call it PTSD or something,” I say, as a rueful grin crosses my face.

  Aidan's stormy eyes bore into me, his expression serious. “Do you believe Victor is going to show up here, Katie?”

  I shake my head weakly. “No, I don't. Not really,” I say, hoping I sound more confident than I feel. “For the most part, I think the piece of me that's still processing the abuse is what’s telling me otherwise. I don't think he actually knows where I am. Logically, I have to doubt he's going to just show up on my doorstep one day. It's just a matter of giving my heart time to catch up with my head.”

  He cocks his head and gives me a strange look – one I can't identify.

  “Why don't you come stay at my place,” he says. “Until your heart catches up with your head. I've got more than enough room, as you saw –”

  I shake my head again, this time, more forcefully. “No, that's okay,” I say. “I don't need you to protect me.”

  “I know you don't,” he says. “It would, however, ease my mind to know you're not down here with that stalker running around. I mean, not to sound too paranoid but if he has a number you haven't listed anywhere, what other information does he have?”

  “I'm not listed on any of the bills here,” I say. “My name isn't really anywhere to be found, and –”

  “I have people who work for me that can find any breadcrumb you leave behind,” he says. “Things you'd never even think about. We all leave a footprint, Katie. With the right tech guys...”

  He doesn't finish his statement, but he doesn't have to. I get it. I know he's right. In this day and age, unless you are truly living an eighteenth-century lifestyle, move to the middle of absolutely nowhere with no neighbors in a fifty-mile radius, and zero internet connection – you can be found.

  I’ve known that all along, and was banking on the fact that Victor's not smart enough to do it himself and doesn't have the right people who can make that fear of mine a reality.

  I laugh softly. “So, what? Am I going to stay with you forever? I mean, it's not like Victor is going away anytime soon. He's going to be messing with me for a very long time.”

  He sits back in his seat, and scratches his beard again. “Let me worry about Victor.”

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

  Aidan doesn't answer me. I stare at him, and a terrible premonition flows through me as I think back to Aidan's fight with Leon. Although I know he'd never hurt me, I know he wouldn't hesitate to hurt Victor – or maybe worse.

  In my heart, I don't believe that Aidan is capable of killing a man. But the truth of the matter is that I don't really know him all that well. For all I know, he could be a serial killer with a basement full of bodies.

  No, I don't actually believe Aidan’s got some weird sex dungeon. I know he's not like that.

  But, if he thought he was doing the right thing – like protecting me – would he be capable of the unthinkable?

  “Aidan, what do you mean by that?” I ask again.

  “Probably not what you're thinking,” he says and laughs. “But, believe me when I say I can definitely handle him. That I can make sure he never bothers you again.”

  I lean forward. “And how are you going to do that?” I ask. “Victor isn't one who takes hints very well.”

  He shrugs. “Not sure yet,” he replies. “But, I know some people. People who are very good at their job and… very persuasive. Who will make sure Victor gets the message. Until then, I just want to keep you safe. And I'd be able to do that a lot better at my place.”

  His words send a chill through me, and my head is flooded with images of Aidan and his “people” taking Victor out to some lonely old field and dumping his body in a shallow grave. Although I wouldn't mourn his loss, I'm not going to actively root for his death, either.

  Though, truth be told, I'm having a hard time reconciling that image – admittedly, I've probably watched a few too many mob movies – with the man sitting before me. With Aidan, who is kind and compassionate. The man who is such a generous and giving lover. The man who, despite his rugged exterior, is a genuinely soft and warm person.

  The two opposing images of the same man don’t connect in my head.

  “I appreciate it, Aidan. I really do,” I say. “I just – I think we can leave things as they are. It was one phone call, and I'm probably blowing it out of proportion. I let him get into my head and under my skin. I don't think he actually knows where I'm at. He’s not going to show up here. I don’t believe I’m actually in any danger. It just – it freaked me out, is all.”

  “I don't think I'm willing to take that risk, Katie.”

  “It's not your risk to take, Aidan.”

  Although his concern is well-intentioned, I'm growing a little frustrated with his insistence on protecting me. First with Leon
, and now this. I'm not his to protect. Hell, we're not even dating. Even if we were, I wouldn't be the damsel-in-distress type he has to protect from the world. I like to think I'm strong, independent, and capable of handling shit myself.

  And though, I appreciate him being concerned about my well-being, I don't like the direction this conversation is going. I don't like the dark, ominous feeling between us.

  “I know it's not,” he says softly. “I just don't know if I can live with myself if I – if I let it happen again.”

  I cock my head and look at him. Blended with the darkness in his face, there is a genuine pain in his eyes. The kind of deep, permanent pain that sears your soul. I get the idea it has something to do with his fiancée, but I don’t know that for certain. It's just a feeling I have. I don’t actually have any idea what he’s talking about. All I can gather from what little he's told me, is that he feels responsible for her death.

  “Aidan?” I ask softly. “Let what happen again?”

  He looks away and clears his throat, pulling himself back together quickly. And when he finally turns back to me again, the pain has disappeared from his face. All that remains is the anger simmering below the surface. That emotion, he can't seem to disguise. The rest of his emotions, he's mastered the art of hiding beneath a mask of cool neutrality.

  “I just don't want to anything bad to happen to you, Katie,” he says. “Even though I don't know what this is between us right now, I do know that we have a special connection – and I know you feel it too. And, ultimately, I don't want you to live in fear the rest of your life. I don't want you looking over your shoulder all the time because you're afraid Victor might pop up. You shouldn't have to carry that burden, Katie. I want to deal with this once and for all. I want you to live your best life – free and happy.”

  I feel like there's more he wants to say – something more personal, maybe. The fact that he even admitted to feeling a connection with me blows me away. I know he’s not really given to expressing his emotions.