by Selena Kitt
Chapter Two
I’d never seen the ocean before. I stood there in wonder that first time, when Rob opened the French doors off his room, onto a patio, and I saw a dazzle of moonlight on the Pacific in the distance. The house wasn’t right on the ocean, but it made up for it by sporting an endless, “infinity” pool that surrounded the whole house, like a moat around a French fortress. We could look down on it all from our patio perch.
We went down a curved flight of stairs to sit near the pool to talk, me wrapped in a silk robe Rob plucked from a hook in the bathroom—I wondered, briefly, how many women before me had worn it—and Rob still barefoot and shirtless, wearing just jeans in the warm California night air. Even as close as we were to the city, the stars were plentiful, and we sat together on one of the outdoor couches, his arm around me, my head tucked under his chin.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” That’s what he kept asking, like the fact I was carrying his child was irrelevant, or maybe just not quite real. But keeping something from him? That seemed far the worst sin.
“I was scared,” I admitted, which was the truth.
I’d spent most of my teen years terrified of getting pregnant until I had a talk with my mother about my “irregular menstrual cycles” during my freshman year of high school, which she understood as code for, “I’m sexually active,” and took me to her obstetrician to put me on the pill. But I’d gone off it just before college because it messed with my hormones too much—Katie said I was Bitchzilla during my periods when I was on the pill—and relied on condoms from there on out. Besides, I reasoned, they were far safer when it came to all the other terrible things that could result from sex, aside from pregnancy.
And of course, I’d always seen pregnancy as a bad thing. I loved kids, of course—I wouldn’t have gone into elementary education if I hadn’t—but my own kids? That would be far in the future, when I had fallen in love, gotten married, settled down.
But I am in love.
One out of three.
Rob stroked my hair, sending goose flesh down my arm, and I knew it was true—I did love him. The moment I saw him again, face to face, the instant his lips met mine, I knew all the waiting had been worth it. I was in love with this man, had fallen increasingly in love with him, despite the distance, in the past two months, and was still head-over-heels for him now. I couldn’t deny that, as much as my practical side would have liked to.
So here I was in love—not married, not settled—but most definitely pregnant. Now what? I’d been asking myself that same question for a month as my body started changing, as morning sickness hit in the middle of class as I had to grab the trash can before I puked. I knew I had to tell Rob. Katie had suggested I “take care of it,” and never let him know, but that wasn’t an option for me. I wanted him to have a say, whatever that looked like.
“There’s still time.” I said the words slowly, closing my eyes against it.
I hadn’t decided, not fully. I didn’t want to make up my mind without him, without his input, so I’d tried to stay Switzerland about the whole thing. And aside from the occasional nausea and my growing, tender breasts, I could pretty much stay in denial if I wanted to. And I’d wanted to, until now.
“Time...” he murmured softly, stroking my hair, puzzling out the word, like he didn’t quite understand. And then, all at once, he did. He sat up straight, jarring us both out of position. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“You were perceptive enough to guess I’m pregnant, but you can’t cipher out the secret code for abortion?” The words were so cutting, I couldn’t even believe they’d come from my mouth.
We looked at each other in the moonlight, the ocean breeze lifting my hair, blowing it back from my face. He looked truly shocked, like the idea had never even occurred to him. But how could that be possible?
“Sabrina...” He shook his head slowly, his eyes pained. “I know I’m supposed to do the P.C. thing here and say it’s your body, your decision, something like that. But... I can’t do that.”
“Okay.” I swallowed.
“I know what I want.” He slid closer, turning my chin up to look into my eyes. “But I’m not sure that matters.”
“It does,” I insisted.
“Does it?” His thumb moved along the line of my jaw. “I don’t know.”
“I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t.” I didn’t have to say it, but he knew. Things could have gone Katie’s way. I could have just done something about this “problem” and never said a word.
He nodded. “What do you want to do?”
I wanted to tell him I was scared, that I didn’t know what to do. One minute I was fantasizing about getting married and settling down and having his little rock star baby, and the next I was sure I couldn’t handle being a mother at this age, that I was crazy to even think of having a baby with a man who was not only a rock star but who was also, technically, still married. Was it fair to a child to bring it into the world under these circumstances?
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.” It was as close to the truth as I thought I could get.
“No, it isn’t.” Rob slid closer still, taking me into his arms. “You’re afraid to say it, but you know what it is.”
“So, you read minds now?” I rolled my eyes, trying to push him away.
“I read yours.” His words stopped me, and I let myself melt against him, let his arms comfort me.
“So, you tell me,” I said, meeting his gaze. “What do I want?”
“Close your eyes,” he urged.
I shook my head, biting my lip, knowing exactly what he was up to. I remembered the restaurant, in a dark corner of La Fondue, when he’d made me close my eyes and tell him what I wanted, when I’d confessed things I hadn’t ever admitted before, to anyone, even to my best friend. And he was right. I wasn’t just afraid to say it—I was afraid to know.
“Do it.” He pressed his forehead to mine, his face unfocused, swimmy, forcing my eyes closed. “Now tell me. What do you want, Sabrina?”
“World peace,” I snapped.
“That goes without saying.” He snorted. “What else?”
I swallowed and whispered, “You.”
“Good. What else?” His hand moved around the curve of my waist, coming to settle low on my belly, below my navel. “What do you really want?”
I felt tears welling and tried to stop them but couldn’t. They slipped silently down my cheeks. My head screamed at me that this wasn’t right, it wasn’t practical—it wasn’t even rational or smart. I couldn’t possibly want this, and yet...
“Our baby.” It wasn’t just the first time I’d said the words, it was the first time my mind had even created the concept. “I want our baby.”
I felt him let out a breath. “I want him too.”
“Him?” I sniffed, opening my eyes. He was smiling.
“Or her.” He rubbed my belly. It wasn’t growing yet, at least not that anyone else noticed. Only me and my skinny jeans could tell.
“Rob...” I swallowed again, trying to come to terms with it. I knew what had escaped my mouth in the moment, but just because it had been the first thing that came into my head didn’t necessarily make it the right course of action. “Are you sure?”
“I love you,” he said simply. “I want you. I want this. I’ve been telling you that since I met you.”
“I know but...”
He leaned in and kissed me to shut me up, and it worked. When I was in his arms, when we were together like this, everything else melted away. It was just the two of us—well, two and a half now, or maybe two and a quarter—and no one else in the world mattered. So, I was a school teacher from Detroit and he was a rock star who had platinum albums and traveled the world. And was still married. What did that matter?
What in the hell are you thinking?
My mind screamed, but my body simply refused to listen.
Rob kissed me and reality
, rationality, pragmatism, all of that vanished. Our heat dissolved it, eating away at ‘practical Sabrina’ like acid. She sizzled and faded and was no more. Rob brought out a darker, wilder side of me I hadn’t even known existed before he came along. He ushered in a sort of transformation in me I couldn’t halt, even if I wanted to. It wasn’t anything so slow and easy as caterpillar to butterfly though. It was more like a switch being thrown or being tossed into a fire. I was burned away, consumed, and reborn in his arms.
So, I didn’t ask him what this meant, this crazy, irrational decision. I didn’t ask him what it would look like, or how it would come about. I didn’t wonder about his job or mine, the fact that we lived two thousand miles away from each other, or that he still had a pesky wife to worry about. I couldn’t think about all of that when he was kissing me, touching, me, making me, as he had from that very first day, completely and utterly his.
The heat was too much for both of us. We couldn’t wait. There was no build up, hardly any foreplay. It had been too long. We both wanted it too much. I felt his erection through the denim of his jeans, straining against the fabric, and I had to free him. I worked at his button and zipper, distracted when he slipped his hands under the silk fabric of my robe.
“Easy,” I whispered when he teased my nipples with his thumbs, kneading my flesh. They were so tender and sensitive, it was hard to bear. Then his mouth was there, sucking and licking, making me gasp and thrash.
“Please,” I begged, arching my back and feeling my nipple slip from between his lips with a fat, wet popping sound. “I can’t...”
He groaned an apology, working his way down my belly, untying the robe and exposing me completely to the night air. My wet nipples pursed and pointed skyward as Rob moaned and parted my labia with his tongue. I was so wet and swollen, had been for hours just thinking about him, I couldn’t stand it. I wanted him inside of me.
“Please,” I begged, rolling and grinding my hips, thinking about him buried deep inside me. “Please.”
He tongued my sex as he unzipped his jeans, making me buck with pleasure before he knelt up and, without warning or hesitation, slid his cock into me. It went easy—I was slick, slippery, ready for him.
“Oh Rob,” I moaned, my fingernails digging into his biceps as he began pumping, kneeling on the ground between my legs as I wrapped them tight around his waist.
“Fuuuuck.” He grimaced, biting his lip as he bottomed out inside me.
He was a Greek god in the moonlight, every inch of him chiseled and honed to perfection. And he was mine. I ran my hands up his biceps, across the hard planes of his shoulders, snaking my arms around his neck and pulling him to me, capturing his mouth in a deep, dark kiss.
His tongue thrust in time with his cock, driving us both higher, making me dizzy with wanting him. I couldn’t hold it back, everything I felt for him, how much I wanted him. There was no barrier between us now. I was completely his in that moment and the way he looked at me when I broke our kiss, gasping for air, told me he knew it.
“Harder,” I begged, digging my heels into his lower back, driving him deeper. “Oh, baby, please, please, make me come for you!”
Rob let out a low groan, hips moving fast and hard, so deep it almost hurt, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t get enough of him. I felt him throbbing, every beautiful, glorious inch of him, and knew he was close. His body seemed to take over all on its own, like a machine, and I shuddered underneath him as I felt that first sweet, hot blast filling me.
“Oh God, Sabrina!” He called my name as he came and that pushed me right over the edge. I came too, trembling beneath him, satin walls clamping down on his length like a velvet vise. Rob grabbed my hips, thrusting like an animal, growling in my ear as he filled me.
The night air was filled with our harsh, ragged breath and I clung to him, like I couldn’t get enough. He yanked his jeans up over his hips and stretched out beside me. It was dark except for the ambient light from the infinity pool beside us and the moon high above. Rob stroked my hair, my cheek, the tops of my breasts, his hand finally settling, with a profound meaning, on my lower belly. We breathed together and kissed like we thought we might never get the chance again, our lips moving in whispers occasionally—his name, my name, and words like sweet and love and mine. We were lost in each other and found again. I don’t know how long it was, minutes, hours, before someone called Rob’s name from behind us.
Then a flood of lights poured over the patio.
I startled but Rob’s eyes flew open, brow knitted, jaw tight.
“Stay here.” He frowned, yanking my robe closed and cinching it tight before rolling off the edge of the patio couch, zipping up his jeans as he stood.
“I heard you were back in town.” It was a woman’s voice, dripping honey. “Didn’t waste much time getting back in the saddle now did you?”
I sat, gathering the robe closed at my throat, and watched as Rob approached a woman I recognized immediately from magazines like People and US Weekly. It was Catherine, his wife. She was some sort of lingerie model and they’d been separated for over a year now but, according to Rob, she had refused to divorce him until a few months ago. The papers had arrived as a welcome surprise to both of us at his tour date in Detroit. It had been the deciding factor for me when I told him yes—I wanted this, I wanted him. I would wait.
She was, hands down, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She made Celeste look like Shrek.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s still my house too, remember?”
Rob glanced back at me and I know he must have seen the pained expression on my face. I couldn’t hide it, not quickly enough. He shook his head, opened his mouth like he was going to say something to me, but didn’t. Instead, he turned back to Catherine.
“Inside. We’ll talk there.”
He held up a hand to me, one finger—wait a minute—as he filled the doorway with his frame, forcing her back inside. She glanced over his shoulder at me with a catty little smirk, but then the French door swung closed behind them and all I could hear was the muffled sound of voices.
It wasn’t cold, but I shivered. Without Rob’s light, there was no heat. Our fire had been extinguished by a tall, cool, blonde drink of water. Everything I’d been thinking about, dreaming about, had just disappeared in a puff of smoke. I’d been pretending Rob was mine, when all along, he still belonged to someone else. This thing between us, so bright, so new, had crashed and burned almost immediately once we came face to face with reality.
I put my head in my hands, trying not to listen and still hearing things I didn’t want to know. They even argued like a married couple.
Because they are.
My heart broke into a million pieces as I sat there and shivered on the patio, cold and miserable and wrecked.
Chapter Three
Daisy brought dinner out onto the patio. She introduced herself and chatted with me as she set the table and lit low candles while Rob and Catherine argued inside. Daisy was a rather voluptuous brunette with her hair pulled back in a ponytail and bright brown eyes that missed nothing. She knew exactly what was going on, I could tell, but she pretended she didn’t, making small talk with me as I padded over in my robe and bare feet and asked if she had anything non-alcoholic as she began to fill the champagne flutes. She said she did and went off to get it. I didn’t say why I wasn’t drinking. But, as I watched her go back into the house, the sound of Rob and Catherine’s argument wafting out loudly for a moment as she opened the French doors, some deeper part of me had just acknowledged the truth.
I’m going to have a baby. With or without Rob, I’m going to have this baby.
It was the first time I’d even let myself think it.
After Daisy left, it grew quiet—too quiet—and the perpetual thought-hamster in my head began to run even faster, turning wheels, grinding gears. Of course, they’d made up. She’d brought the divorce papers with her, so they could burn them in the fireplace and m
ake love in the glow. Rob would apologize and put me on the first plane home tomorrow. And that would be that.
I lifted a heavy, silver cover from one of the plates and peered at the scallops and lobster tail. There was also some sort of risotto and French green beans with slivered almonds. Fancy.
At least you’ll get a delicious meal out of the deal.
But I didn’t want to eat. In fact, I felt nauseous as I put the silver cover back on the plate.
Daisy returned with sparkling grape juice and poured that into my glass instead of champagne as Rob came out onto the patio. He’d thrown a shirt on and buttoned it halfway up, I noticed. Well, at least he wasn’t screwing Catherine in the blaze of their burning divorce papers, I consoled myself as he joined me at the table.
“Sorry about that,” he said, lifting the silver cover on his plate and smiling up at the chef. “Daisy, you are a goddess. I’m starving.”
“Enjoy.” She smiled back, glancing briefly at me. I knew she must be thinking how stupid I was to be there, caught in the middle of all of this. And she didn’t even know I’d gotten myself pregnant on top of everything else. “Just call if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Rob set the silver cover aside and picked up his fork. Daisy slipped back into the house without another word.
“Does she always work so late?” I set my silver cover aside and poked at one of the giant scallops with my fork. It was incredibly tender, and, despite my mind’s protest, my stomach growled again.
He raised his eyebrows at me. “Only when I’m planning candlelight dinners for my pregnant girlfriend.”
“Speaking of girlfriends.” I took a bite of the risotto and almost moaned out loud—rich, creamy, delicious. But I didn’t let it distract me. “How’s your wife?”
“Ex-wife.” He gave me a long look.
“Not yet,” I reminded him. The scallops were just as tender as they felt, melting in my mouth.
“Soon enough.” Rob made a face, cracking open his lobster tail.
“How soon?”
