One Secret Night, One Secret Baby

by Charlene Sands

  Once the meal was set to reheating, Dylan leaned against the granite island, folding his arms across his torso, and pinned her down with those baby blues. “You’re forgetting how I grew up. Mom and Dad expected us to do everyday chores, just as they did. I washed cars, cooked meals, did laundry, made beds, and good God, I even scrubbed toilets.”

  “I bet you don’t anymore.”

  He shrugged and slid her a crooked grin. “Not if I can help it.”

  Thinking about her recent toilet incidents, she didn’t blame him. “Your mom and dad were wonderful people. They taught you well.”

  “Yeah, but at the time I didn’t think so. I did more work than any of my friends. Before I could go out and play ball, I had a list of chores to get through. Weekends were especially gruesome.”

  “They were building character.”

  “Yeah, now I play characters on the screen.”

  “And you still wash dishes and make your own meals. The last conversation I had with your mom, she told me how proud she was of you.”

  “She is now, but when I left college in my sophomore year to pursue an acting career, my folks were both pretty bummed. Especially my dad. He had high hopes of me going to medical school. He lost his chance at being a doctor and tossed all of his hopes and guilt onto me. He wanted to be a pediatrician.” He made a noisy sigh and scrubbed at the dark blond stubble on his chin. “I guess I really disappointed him when I ran away with Renee.”

  Renee had been no good for Dylan. Emma had heard that a zillion times from Brooke and Dylan’s folks. Emma hadn’t been too happy with her, either. At the tender age of fourteen, Emma’s heart had been crushed when Dylan had fallen in love with a cheerleading beauty who’d convinced him he could make it big in the movies. She had connections. She could get him in to see all the right people.

  “Maybe it wasn’t in the cards for you to be a doctor. Your dad lived long enough to see your success. He had to know you made the right decision for yourself.”

  “Dad didn’t think I knew what I was doing. And maybe I didn’t. Renee was my first girlfriend and I was crazy about her.” He pumped his shoulders a couple of times, hopelessly, and something faint and hidden entered his eyes. “But enough about ancient history. How about a soda?” He opened the fridge again. “Lemonade? Wine or beer? Anything else? Maisey keeps the fridge pretty stocked.”

  “Water sounds good.” It was safe. She couldn’t trust her stomach right now, and even before she’d found out about the baby, she’d given up alcohol.

  He handed her one of those cobalt blue water bottles that cost more than a glass of fine wine and then plucked out an Indian Brown Ale for himself. His throat moved as he tipped the bottle to his lips and took a swig. She looked away instantly. She was never one to hide her emotions and the last thing she needed was to have Dylan catch her eyeing him.

  They’d had their one night. Unfortunately neither of them remembered it.

  Dylan’s cell phone rang out the theme song to his latest action flick. How many people actually had their very own ringtone? He grabbed it off the counter and frowned at the screen. “Sorry, Emma. I have to get this. I’ll make it quick. It’s the head of the studio.”

  “Go right ahead. I’m fine right here.” She gestured for him to take the call.

  He nodded, his eyes sparkling with gratitude as he walked out of the room, the cell to his ear. Emma grabbed the salad from the refrigerator, set it on the granite island and then scrounged through drawers to find tongs. Coming up with a pair, she leaned against the counter as Dylan’s voice drifted to her ears.

  “It’s Callista’s thirtieth birthday? Yeah, I think she’d love a party. Up at your house?”

  And then after a long pause, “I’ll do my best to be there, Maury. Yes, yes, I’m recovering nicely, thank you. I’m back at work on Monday. Thanks for the call. See you soon.”

  He walked back into the kitchen, frowning and running a hand down his face. “Sorry,” he said. “Business crap.”

  “Sounds like Callista’s having a party.” She tilted her head. “Sorry, I overheard.”

  “Yeah, she’s turning thirty. Maury likes to remind me he’s not getting any younger. He expects me to be there.” Dylan sighed.

  Maury Allen had power and influence. That much, Emma knew. According to Brooke, he’d been pushing for Dylan to make a commitment to his daughter, but so far, Dylan had resisted. Their relationship had been on and off for three years. “And you don’t want to go?”

  Dylan leaned back against the counter, picking up his beer. “Maury’s been good to me. Gave me my first break. I sort of owe him my loyalty. If he wants me at his daughter’s birthday celebration, I’ll go.”

  Dylan McKay and Callista Lee Allen made a gorgeous couple. Whenever they were together, there were headlines. To all the world they probably seemed like a perfect match.

  Which made Emma’s predicament suddenly jump to the forefront of her thoughts and curdle her stomach. She was feeling a little weak-kneed anyway and needed to sit down.

  Dylan’s hand came to her elbow and his eyes locked onto hers. “Emma, are you okay? You’re looking pale. I need to get food into you. Come, sit down.”

  Why was he always touching her? She had enough to deal with right now, without getting all fan crazy over Dylan’s slightest brotherly touch. “Okay, maybe I should sit.”

  He guided her to the outside patio table closest to the kitchen. “Wait here. I’ll get some plates and bring out the food.”

  She sat, dumbfounded by her fatigue, and stared straight out to sea. The waves gently rolled onto the shore, and stars above lit the sky as low-lying fixtures surrounding the deck gave off soothing light. Fresh scents from the vertical garden on her right drifted to her nose and the whole effect made her feel somewhat better.

  Emma wasn’t a wilting flower. Nothing much rattled her, well, except being alone in complete darkness. Overall, considering her lousy childhood, she’d fended well in the world, but this whole Dylan thing—secretly carrying his child, losing her cookies every morning and not holding up her end with Parties-To-Go—overwhelmed her. The walls were closing in from all directions and right now her body wasn’t up for the fight.

  Dylan came back loaded down with food and went about serving her as if she was the Queen of England. Then he offered her the tan suede jacket she’d brought from home. “It’s getting a little cool out here,” he said.

  She nodded and he helped her put her arms through the sleeves. “There you go. Better?”

  She nodded. The jacket fit her snugly. She wondered how much longer she could wear it and then, just like that, tears welled in her eyes. Her mouth began to quiver.

  It had to be hormones.

  Dylan didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy making sure she had everything she needed at the table. “Eat up, Emma.”

  He finally sat and they both picked up their forks. The food was delicious and she managed to eat half of everything on her plate. An accomplishment, considering she hadn’t eaten this much in days.

  “You’re not worried about your girlish figure, are you?” he asked, eyeing her plate. His grin and the twinkle in his eyes were right on par for Dylan.

  “Should I be?”

  His lids lowered as he slowly raked his gaze over her body. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  She had no comeback. He’d once touched every inch of her and seemed to have no complaints that she could remember.

  She managed a smile, though suddenly her energy waned. “The food was amazing. I feel full and satisfied,” she fibbed. Actually, she wasn’t feeling so great. “Please be sure to thank Maisey for me.”

  “I will.”

  “Dylan?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I’m really exhausted. Would you mind taking me home?”

 
He hesitated and something that resembled regret flickered in his eyes. “Sure...if that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” She rose and pushed back her chair. Before she could take a step, heat washed up and over her, spinning circles inside her head. Her legs buckled and soon she was falling, falling.

  And then Dylan’s arms were around her, easing her to the ground. “Emma!”

  A sharp pat to the face snapped her eyes open. She’d been slapped.

  “Emma, thank God. You fainted.”

  Her head felt light and she saw two Dylans leaning over her on bent knee. “I did?”

  “Yeah, you were out for a few seconds. I’m going to get you inside and call 911.”

  “No, no!” His words were enough to rouse her and refocus her eyes. “I don’t need the paramedics.”

  “You do, honey. You’ve been sick for days now. You should see a doctor.” The resolve in his voice frightened her. This was going sideways fast.

  “No, no. I’m not sick.”

  “Something’s wrong with you, Emma. I have to get you help.”

  “Dylan, no.” She gazed into his worried face. “I know what’s wrong. I’m not sick.”

  “You’re not?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’m...pregnant.”

  Four

  “Pregnant?” Had he heard Emma right? He didn’t know she’d been seeing anyone. He softened his voice, attempting to keep his surprise concealed. “You’re pregnant, Em?”

  She nodded, chewing on her lower lip, her eyes down.

  Where was the guy? Did he bail on her? And why did he feel sharp pangs in his gut consisting of an emotion he refused to name? “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, still averting her eyes.

  It seemed that she hadn’t come to grips with it yet. Softly, he brushed fallen locks off her forehead, the tendrils flowing through his fingers like silk, which brought her pretty green eyes up to his. “Well, damn.”

  She swallowed.

  “Is it okay for me to lift you up now?”

  He was holding the top half of her body off the ground. Another few inches and she would’ve landed hard on stone.

  “I think so. I’m not dizzy anymore.”

  He knew something about getting dizzy. Luckily, that hadn’t happened to him for days now. “Okay, slowly,” he said.

  He brought his face close to hers, breathing in a sweet scent that reminded him of lavender. God, he liked her. There was something sweet and real about Emma Bloom. She’d spent a lot of time in the McKay household while growing up and he’d always looked upon her as a second little sister. But now he wasn’t altogether sure why he felt so close to her. Or why, whenever given a chance, he chose to kiss her. It was almost second nature with him lately, holding Emma and kissing her.

  Gathering her in his arms, he guided her up, keeping her body pressed close to his. Her breasts crushed his chest and he tried not to think about how soft and supple they felt. Once they were upright, he kept his hold on her. “Do you think you can stand on your own?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “I won’t let go of you completely. I’ll hold on to your waist, okay?”

  She nodded. Color had come back to her face. It wasn’t rosy, but she didn’t look like a sheet, either, so that was a good thing.

  She was unusually quiet and there was a stark look on her face. Stronger breezes had kicked up on the patio and it was getting chilly. “Let’s go inside.”

  He stood beside her now, wrapping an arm around her slender waist. “I’ve got you.” Shoulder to shoulder, they took small steps. They bypassed the kitchen and moved into the larger living room. Dylan stopped at his buttery leather couch, the most comfortable seat in the house, and helped her sit down. Her silence unnerved him. Was she embarrassed, scared, regretful? Hell, he didn’t know what to say to her when she was like this.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m feeling better, Dylan.

  “You really should see a doctor.”

  She looked down at the hands she’d folded in her lap. So unlike Emma. “I plan to.”

  “Does Brooke know?”

  She nodded. “I told her just recently.”

  “I don’t mean to pry, but what about the baby’s father? Does he know?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet.”

  Dylan didn’t want to stick his nose into her business, but Emma hadn’t led a charmed life. The kid didn’t deserve to go through this alone. Dylan wasn’t good with stuff like this, but she was here and had fainted in front of him. With Brooke gone for a few more days, Dylan had to step in. “I’m not taking you home until I’m sure you’re feeling better.”

  “Dr. Dylan,” she said, her lips quirking up. Signs of the real Emma Rae Bloom were emerging.

  “Your friend Dylan.”

  She looked away.

  “Let me get you some water. Hang on.”

  He left the room, and when he returned with a glass, Emma’s eyes were closed, but there was no peace on her face. He sat down beside her quietly and put the glass in her hand.

  She turned to him then and whispered, “Dylan...I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure. Okay. I’m listening.”

  Her chest heaved as she filled her lungs, as if readying for a marathon. And then she began. “You know how I was raised. My foster parents weren’t very attentive, but they gave me a home. They fed me and I had clothes on my back.”

  They were reckless and selfish bastards. Heavy drinkers. But Dylan wouldn’t say that.

  She sipped water, probably needing fortification, then went on. “I was about ten when Doris and Burt went out to the local English pub one night. You might remember the one on Birch Street.”

  He nodded. “Darts and hard ales. I remember.”

  She gave him a quick smile. They had the same roots. Only, hers were laden with weeds instead of the pretty poppies little girls deserved.

  “They’d put me to bed early that night and told me to stay there,” she continued. “I knew they probably wouldn’t come home until very late. What I didn’t know was that the electricity had been turned off that day. They hadn’t paid their electric bill, so when a bad storm hit that night I trembled every time there was thunder. And the erratic lightning really freaked me out. None of the lights in my room were working. I remember how black it was. And there were noises. Crazy, scary noises, shutters flapping against the house, wind howling, shrubs brushing against the outer walls sounding like devilish whispers. I ran downstairs, clicking as many light switches as I could find. Nothing worked. And then I remembered Burt kept a flashlight in a little storage closet under the stairs. S-somehow...s-somehow...as I climbed into that space, a gust of wind or something...slammed the door shut behind me. I was locked in that tiny dark space all night.”

  “Oh, man, Emma,” Dylan said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. Her face was stone cold, as if reliving this memory had frozen her up inside. He could only imagine her terror that night. He had no clue what this had to do with her pregnancy, but he listened. Maybe she needed to get this off her chest. She could use him to unburden herself if that’s what it took.

  “It was the longest night of my life. I sobbed and sobbed most of the night, quietly, though, in case those devilish sounds materialized into something evil. My folks finally came home. It was almost dawn when they found me cowering in that closet. They told me everything was all right and that I’d be okay. Only, I wasn’t okay. From then on, being in dark places has always screwed with my head.”

  “It’s understandable that you get frightened. Those memories must be horrible for you.”

  Her lips tightened as she bobbed her head up and down.


  He waited for more. A moment later, her sad eyes lifted to his. “Flash forward about sixteen years. It was the night of the blackout...my neighbor Eddie was having a big birthday bash on the Sunset Strip. It was one round of drinks after another. For the first time in my life, I indulged. In a big way. My friends kept my glass refilled until I was feeling no pain. My fuzzy head went on the blink, and unfortunately so did the lights. Before I knew what was happening, the entire club went black. I couldn’t see a thing out the windows, either. Then I heard the rain. It wasn’t a downpour, but it didn’t have to be, just the steady pounding on the roof was enough. I freaked and began trembling uncontrollably. Luckily, I had Brooke on autodial, or I wouldn’t have had the coordination to make the call. I couldn’t reach her... She didn’t answer.”

  Dylan leaned in, nodding his head. “Go on, Em. Then what did you do?”

  Her eyes squeezed shut. This was hard on Emma but it was probably good for her to purge this memory. “When I couldn’t reach your sister, I panicked and gave my phone to someone sitting on the floor next to me.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “My friend punched in your number.”

  “My number?” he repeated, and his forehead wrinkled as he scoured his memory for an inkling of recollection. Nothing came to mind.

  “Yes... I...I thought Brooke might be with you.”

  His mind was a blank wall when it came to those days. “I don’t remember.”

  Her eyes watered and she gave him half a smile, one of those unhappy smiles that tussled with his heart. “I was so scared.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. You came to rescue me. I just remember thinking Dylan will come. If he says he will come, he will come. He’ll get me out of here. I couldn’t wait to get out of that place.”

  He could’ve caught flies when his mouth dropped open and stayed that way. “What happened next?” And why didn’t she tell him this before? She knew he was trying to piece together those lost hours before the blast.

  “It’s fuzzy, but I remember you finding me in the dark and carrying me out of there. You drove me home and...and...”