SEAL's Secret Baby

by Ivy Jordan

  “I want to see dad after school,” she said sternly.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” I advised firmly.

  I wasn’t about to have my eleven-year-old daughter dictate anything, especially when it concerned Liam. She didn’t know the pain he could cause. I didn’t want her to ever know.

  “That’s not fair. I miss him,” she whined.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” I demanded.

  “I want to talk about it now,” she insisted.

  “Do you want one egg, or two?” I questioned, ignoring her demands.

  “I’m not hungry,” she hissed, stomping out of the kitchen.

  Fine.

  I put the eggs back in the fridge and grabbed a coffee cup from the top shelf above the maker. I poured myself a full cup and then sat down at the table.

  Her phone was beeping loudly, and I was certain it was Liam. I didn’t want to start a fight so early, especially with the mood she was already in, so I decided to deal with her phone—and him—later.

  I finished my coffee and yelled for Holly to get to the car. She stomped past me to the door, giving me a sour look as she walked outside.

  I wasn’t going to let her intimidate me. I was the mother, the parent: not her, and not Liam. He hadn’t been there long enough to claim the role.

  I was protecting her. She’d see that eventually.

  I tossed a granola bar in Holly’s lap as she slid into the passenger’s seat.

  “Aren’t you working today?” she asked, her tone less than sweet.

  “Nope,” I smirked and pulled the car out of the driveway.

  I knew she’d rather ride the bus or even walk if it meant getting away from me at that moment. I didn’t want to chance her stopping by Liam’s since his house was on the way to her stop.

  The short ride to the school was silent and tense. It was a relief when I pulled up to the drop-off position. Holly rushed out of the car, quickly mumbling she loved me but slamming the door like she didn’t.

  I knew this was hard for her to understand. It was hard for me.

  My phone lit up, buzzing in my purse. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. Bruce. Ugh! He was the last person I wanted to talk to.

  I pulled away from the school, ignoring the call, and drove straight to my mom’s. I parked my car, stared at the little yellow house where I grew up, and just wanted to turn back time by going inside, having my mom make me food and comfort me while I cried.

  “You look a mess,” Maria said as I walked through the front door.

  She was sitting on the couch, watching one of her morning shows, fully dressed, makeup applied, and ready for her day, even though she was retired with nothing to do.

  “Thanks,” I grumbled, falling into the armchair by the door.

  So much for comfort.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

  “Holly hates me,” I mumbled.

  She rolled her eyes, let out a sigh, and shook her head.

  “That’s not true,” she spat.

  “It is,” I moaned.

  “Why does she hate you?” she queried.

  My phone started ringing again. Bruce, again.

  “Who is that?” she asked.

  “Bruce,” I groaned.

  “Is that why she hates you?” she pushed, her eyebrows raising high on her forehead as she spoke.

  “No,” I sighed, sliding my thumb across the screen to ignore the call.

  “How long has he been calling?” she questioned me.

  “He’s called a few times over the last week. I told him I swore off men,” I chuckled.

  “Really?” Maria laughed.

  “I should,” I sassed.

  “Sometimes, I think we all should. But that isn’t gonna happen. What’s going on with Liam?” she asked.

  “Ugh,” I grumbled, curling up in the chair and tucking my legs to my chest.

  “I think we need a margarita,” Maria announced, getting up from her seat.

  “It’s early, a Monday,” I protested.

  She just laughed and made her way into the kitchen.

  It wasn’t long before I heard the blender grinding ice. The sound was obnoxious for being so early, but the smell of limes was inviting.

  “Here,” Maria pushed me a glass with a tiny umbrella sticking out of it.

  I had to laugh. It was ridiculous, but my nerves were shot, and a drink sounded good, even though it was so early on a Monday morning.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  I nodded. I was starving.

  I took a sip of the drink and followed my mom into the kitchen. I sat at the table while she pulled out leftover burritos and rice.

  “I’ll heat ya something up,” she stated and started to make my plate.

  “Thanks, mom,” I sighed.

  “Did something happen between you and Liam?” she asked.

  “He left,” I muttered, taking another long sip of my drink.

  “But he came back,” Maria offered.

  “I was afraid he wouldn’t. I’d never been so scared in my life. I don’t ever want to feel that way again. I don’t ever want Holly to feel that way again,” I groaned.

  “So Holly was afraid he wouldn’t come back too?” she gasped, pulling the food from the microwave and placing it in front of me.

  I stabbed the burrito with my fork, shoving a large bite into my mouth. It was so good. Why was food so much better when she made it? I had the same recipe and used it dozens of times, but Maria’s was better.

  “No, she kept telling me the whole time he was gone that he’d be back,” I admitted.

  Maria sat down at the kitchen table. Her eyes lingered on mine as she watched me eat.

  “I don’t understand,” she sighed.

  I knew there were too many holes in my story for her to fully understand. I hated divulging the truth, but I didn’t see a way out of it at this point. I showed up here and dumped my crap in her lap, so now I had to explain, whether I wanted to or not.

  “We slept together,” I confessed, sucking what was left of my drink through the colored straw in my glass.

  Maria got up, grabbed the pitcher of margaritas, poured herself a glass, and then refilled mine.

  “After your date?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  A wild grin smeared across my face, and I let out a chuckle.

  “That night, when I went over there to tell him off,” I admitted.

  “Oh, Alyssa, I knew you did,” Maria laughed.

  “You did?” I questioned.

  “It was written all over your face. You’re not a very good liar,” she informed me.

  “And then again, when I tried to tell him I didn’t want to see him,” I continued.

  My mother didn’t seem to be shocked. She leaned back in her chair, her eyes laying heavily on mine, and just smiled.

  “Men are dogs. You should’ve known, especially after the first time, what he was after,” she scolded.

  I sucked half of my drink down, causing her to get up and start another pitcher.

  “It wasn’t what he wanted; it was what I wanted. I attacked him,” I slurred a little, and then hiccupped.

  The blender ground ice, screaming so loudly it made me dizzy. Soon, it was done, and Maria was filling my glass back to the rim.

  “You can’t blame yourself,” she comforted.

  “Oh, I can,” I gasped.

  I spilled the entire story of how I threw myself at him in the truck that first night.

  “In the truck?” Maria laughed, her eyes filled with surprise that her sweet little daughter could be so aggressive.

  I was shocked too. I was never that aggressive, not with anyone else.

  Bruce called again. I picked up the phone and answered it this time, feeling stronger than I had before the two drinks.

  “Leave me alone,” I yelled into the speaker and then hung up.

  Maria laughed.

  “Wow,” she gasped.
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  “The sex was amazing, hot,” I groaned.

  “With Bruce?” Maria asked, surprised.

  “No way. Sex was never that good with Bruce. With Liam, it’s just, mmm, it’s just the best sex ever,” I leaned back in my chair.

  “So what’s the problem?” she asked.

  “I ran,” I admitted.

  I told her how it scared me to feel so strongly, so soon. He’d been gone twelve years. He left me. I shouldn’t have gotten so close.

  “He ruined my relationship with Bruce. He was why Bruce was acting so jealous,” I snapped.

  “That’s not fair. Bruce was a dickhead way before Liam came back,” she defended.

  It was strange to have my mother defend Liam. I thought she hated him.

  “But then, I did it again. I went back to tell him to leave me alone, that we couldn’t do this because of Holly, and I did it again,” I giggled as I thought about our encounters.

  “You love him,” Maria sighed.

  It was true. I did love him.

  “But I can’t trust him,” I moaned.

  Maria made another pitcher of margaritas, and we moved into the living room where it was more comfortable.

  I finished my tale of how I couldn’t keep my hands off of Liam. We talked about our date, how sweet he was, how much of a gentleman, and then how I molested him on my front porch.

  “Did you guys ever make it into the house?” she asked.

  “Nope,” I laughed.

  I sipped my drink, remembering how good it felt to be with him, how out of control he made me feel in every way. I wasn’t used to being out of control. It was scary.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re mad at him. It sounds like you’re the one that pushed things,” Maria questioned.

  “But the sex, oh my God, the sex is incredible,” I slurred.

  “Sounds like a keeper to me,” she laughed.

  “I can’t even be around him without trying to tear off his clothes,” I admitted with a chuckle.

  The second pitcher of margaritas was gone, and I was feeling lightheaded. I’d only picked at my burrito, so I knew I’d drank too much on an empty stomach. All the talk about Liam, the phone calls from Bruce, it was too much to absorb with all the alcohol and emotions.

  “Ya know, your dad was the best I’d ever had,” Maria divulged.

  I didn’t want to hear that. No part of me wanted to hear about my parents’ sex life.

  “Stop,” I laughed, holding up my hand like a stop sign in the air.

  “I’m just sayin’, he’s the only one I ever found myself in the back of a pickup truck with, or skinny dipping at the lake, or anywhere really. He made me wild,” she laughed.

  I didn’t want to picture my mom wild, young, and sexual. My stomach churned as I pushed back into my chair, resting my head against the soft cushion.

  “I don’t like how he makes me lose control,” I sighed.

  “I think you do,” Maria enforced.

  “I don’t want him to leave me, to leave us,” I said softly as my eyes started to shut.

  “He hasn’t. You actually ran from him this time: three times now,” my mother’s voice was both soothing and annoying.

  I gripped my phone in my hand, staring at the screen. He hadn’t tried to call again since our fight. No texts, no messages. The only thing on my screen was a text from Bruce. Ugh. I swiped quickly to delete it and then removed him from my contact list.

  I started to do the same to Liam, but I couldn’t. My eyes grew heavy, my mom had disappeared somewhere, and the room was slowly spinning, rocking, sending me into a slumber.

  The porch was spinning when I opened my eyes. Something woke me, but I couldn’t make out what just yet. I looked up to find Liam standing over my rocking chair. He had a strange smirk on his face as he shook his head. How did I get outside?

  “What are you doing here?” I questioned, trying to sit upright in the chair.

  “You don’t remember?” he laughed, shoving his phone towards my face to read.

  The screen was cracked, but I could make out my name. Texts. Several of them, all from me. Oh, God!

  “So, you’re giving up men, eh?” he laughed.

  I shook my head. Oh God, it hurt so bad.

  “And you want to know why I’m so good at sex?” he chuckled, showing me the text where I’d rambled on about his cock, his tongue. Oh my God.

  I leaned forward, my stomach churning, and the room still spinning. I couldn’t get up, and I couldn’t stop it. I threw up, right in front of him, on his shoes.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Liam

  Mascara was smeared down Alyssa’s face where she’d been crying, and her hair was a tangled mess. What the hell happened?

  As puke spewed all over my shoes, the texts began to make sense. She was drunk.

  I leaned forward, lifting Alyssa’s limp body in my arms. I pulled her up to her feet to help her inside to get cleaned up, when suddenly my feet slipped from under me, in the slippery spew on the porch, and I landed on my back, hard.

  Her eyes widened, her lips parted, and she mumbled that she still felt sick. Shit!

  “What’s going on out here?” Maria appeared on the porch, her face pale, and her eyes groggy.

  It was obvious she’d been drinking too. What on earth made these two decide to get drunk on a Monday morning?

  “She got sick,” I explained.

  “I’m gonna be sick again,” Alyssa mumbled.

  I scrambled to my feet, kicked off my shoes, and quickly lifted her into my arms and carried her to the bathroom.

  “You’re so strong,” she mumbled.

  I laughed. Now wasn’t the time for compliments.

  “I’d carry you anywhere,” I smiled.

  I placed her on the floor near the toilet and knelt down beside her, brushing her hair from her face.

  It didn’t take long for the second round of whatever she drank to make its way out of her, spewing loudly into the bowl. I held her hair back and rubbed her back while she coughed up the last of it.

  I found a washcloth under the sink and moistened it with cold water from the sink. I applied it to the back of her neck, causing her to let out a sigh of relief.

  “You don’t have to be here,” she groaned.

  “I know,” I continued, brushing her hair from her face and pulling it into a loose ponytail in my hand.

  “I don’t need your help,” she moaned, shoving her face back into the toilet.

  I didn’t want to argue with her, but I felt she did need my help, and I wasn’t leaving her.

  “I don’t need your help. You can leave,” she repeated, but with more aggression.

  “I already told you, I’m not leaving you again, ever,” I insisted.

  She finally quit gagging and leaned back against the tub. Her eyes were closed as she laid her head back against the cold surface. Even now, with her makeup running down her face and her hair in a tangled mess, she was beautiful.

  “Let’s get you to the couch,” I insisted, helping her up from the floor.

  She let me lift her into my arms, carrying her to the living room. I placed her gently on the couch; her mother stood over us with a blanket, ready to cover her up.

  “Did she call you?” Maria whispered as she spread the blanket over Alyssa.

  I followed her into the kitchen.

  “She sent a few confusing texts,” I admitted, leaving out the details of what they said.

  “I’ve never seen her like this,” Maria admitted.

  “What caused her to start drinking so early?” I questioned, still able to see the alcohol’s effects on Maria’s face.

  She sighed, leaned back in her chair, and pointed to the blender. There was margarita mix running down the side, a saucer with coarse salt on the counter, and a couple empty glasses with tiny umbrellas shoved inside.

  “She was upset about you,” Maria admitted.

  “She’s afraid I’m going to leave her a
nd Holly,” I sighed.

  Maria nodded.

  “You did leave her before. I don’t think she ever got over you,” she said.

  My heart ached at the thought of Alyssa suffering because of me.

  “I’ll never leave her again,” I promised.

  “I believe that,” Maria smiled.

  Wow.

  “I wished I never left in the first place,” I admitted.

  “You can’t beat yourself up over that. It was your dream, and you didn’t know. I think the hardest thing for Alyssa was that you didn’t even look back,” she pointed out.

  I had looked back. I just didn’t come back. My heart ached for Alyssa all the time I was gone. Relationships with other women were impossible because I hadn’t let her go, but I feared I’d destroy her life or ruin her chances at happiness if I barged back into her life. I didn’t feel I had a right to. I left. So, coming back only seemed cruel to me.

  Alyssa groaned from the other room. I quickly scooted my chair back and rushed to her side.

  “You’re still here?” she mumbled.

  “I am,” I said softly, stroking her back as she squirmed beneath the blanket.

  “I’m thirsty,” she moaned.

  “I’ll get you something,” I stated, quickly getting up and heading back to the kitchen.

  Maria was leaning against the doorway as I entered.

  “There’s Gatorade in the fridge,” she suggested.

  I opened the door, found a bottle, and started back into Alyssa.

  “Do you have any crackers?” I asked.

  She nodded, handing me the bag.

  “Do you care if I stay here and help take care of her?” I asked.

  “Not at all,” Maria responded.

  It was a long day. Alyssa ate a few crackers, drank most of the Gatorade, and threw up three more times before she finally started moving again.

  She sat up on the couch, just staring at me. I sat near her but didn’t crowd.

  “I hate that you saw me like this,” she whined.

  I chuckled.

  “You’re still beautiful,” I smiled.

  It was getting late, and I knew it was time to go get Holly. There was no way that Alyssa was in the shape to pick her up or even to meet her at the bus stop. Maria had left about an hour earlier, saying she needed to make a quick dash to the grocery store.

  “Do you want me to pick Holly up from school?” I asked.