Mike Arman wasn’t exactly daddy material. Her parents didn’t like him, especially not her dad. Which was odd, given that Mike’s best friend Kian was her father’s business partner. It was an odd and somewhat confusing arrangement, but it worked for her father nevertheless. He made a good living running the club that he most definitely did not allow Savannah to get into, even with her fake ID. He’d never taken her there, wanting to protect her from what he considered the evils of life. If only he knew what kids got up to these days…
He might have been able to keep her away from the club, but he’d made the fatal error of inviting Kian Boychuck over to the house for dinner over the years. The man was a god. Savannah had never seen a more beautiful, sexual, striking man in her life. She’d been instantly smitten. She’d loved him since the time she was what? Fourteen? Fifteen? She wasn’t even sure. He was the reason she’d met Mike. She did almost anything to be around Kian. Running errands for her father, visiting his tattoo shop. Mike worked with Kian. He was a great artist. At first she’d been with him in hopes of getting closer to Kian.
And then it hadn’t been that at all. Somewhere, during the six months they were together, something shifted. She realized that she loved him. Not just a little bit, with some girly infatuation. No, it was deeper than that, the abiding kind of love that could have lasted for years. Which, of course, scared the hell out of her. She didn’t want to make the mistake of falling for someone or getting married young, wasting the best years of her life and getting a divorce twenty or thirty years later, starting her life over as some bitter, dried up old hag.
She hadn’t told her parents about Mike because she hadn’t wanted to. She hadn’t told him about the baby because she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with him. She’d broken up to give herself a fighting chance, to protect herself as well. She was far too young to have her heart broken.
“Savannah Fiacco! Where are you? Carter is already in the car!”
Savannah started. She grabbed up the handle of the diaper bag, spun around and nearly flew head over heels as their tiny Yorkie, Melly, scurried into the kitchen. No doubt frightened by the beast her mother could be. God, Gianna Fiacco could put the fear of god into anyone.
“Oh my god, Melly!” Savannah muttered under her breath. She checked to see that the cowering dog was alright, giving her a few pets on top of her soft head. “Coming!” She yelled as she stomped through the house.
Her mother was standing in front of the open door, one eye on the car, which had every single door open, as though the AC blasting inside wasn’t enough to keep her son alive for all of ten seconds while her mother came back into the house to yell at her to move her ass. God, it reminded her of high school.
As she climbed into the backseat, smiled at her son and handed him a stuffie from his diaper bag, she wondered if she hadn’t made a mistake. Over the past year, throughout the pregnancy and after Carter was born, she’d thought about telling Mike.
The thing was, even if she wanted to, even if she wanted to complicate her life even further, even if she missed seeing him, missed the way it felt when she was with him, she knew it was probably far, far too late.
Chapter 3
The News
Mike
“And where would you like the heart and the butterfly?” Let me guess. Right ass cheek or left tit.
Mike’s client, who had to be all of a whopping eighteen or nineteen, with the hugest breasts and most supple, overflowing curves he had seen in a while, coupled with an impossibly dainty waist, a waterfall of blonde hair, huge blue eyes and a pink glossy smile he could almost see his reflection in, laughed like he’d just said something hysterical.
“I was thinking, um…” she lowered her voice, dangerously low, like a conspirator in a deadly plot. “I was thinking right on my bum. Like a little above my hip.” She tittered away like she was being so naughty.
Mike smiled right along with her. Hell, it was part of his job. Putting up with all kinds of people. As long as they had money and they parked their ass in his seat and let him do his work, he didn’t often complain. He could handle obnoxious women far better than he could handle asshole dudes. Or worse, the ones who cried and begged him to stop. As if tattoos really hurt? Please. Okay, well sometimes maybe it’s legit painful, but jeez. Have some pride. He’d once tattooed himself for over twelve hours. It killed his back as he tore up his own leg, inking most of it in one shot. He only dished out what he himself could take.
“I can do that. Why don’t I close this door here and I’ll put the stencil on? You can have a look and tell me if you’re okay with the positioning and then we’ll start.”
“Alright.” Despite her eagerness to tramp stamp herself up, the girl looked momentarily uncertain.
“This your first time?”
“Yah. How- uh- I mean, I know it hurts, but how much does it hurt?”
Mike grinned confidently and he literally watched the girl’s rigid posture relax. “Trust me, we’ll make it through it. This is only going to take about twenty minutes.”
“Okay.” The girl slowly lowered the waistband of her black yoga pants. She was, because it was just so damn obvious, wearing a neon pink thong. “Like, right here?” She pointed to the fleshy spot.
Hell, this isn’t going to hurt her a bit. “Sure. Just let me get the stencil. I’ll just be a minute.” He puttered around the back of his small private room. He was already set up, he just had to print off a few sizes of stencils and he was good to go.
When he turned back, a few different sizes in hand, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see the girl’s huge blue eyes welled up with tears. Here we go. Not even started yet and the waterworks are flowing.
“It’s okay. I promise this is going to be easy and of course, since everyone says it’s addicting as hell, you’ll be right back in here a few months from now, wanting a sleeve or something.”
The girl laughed. She reached up and swiped at her eyes. “I’m Allison, by the way.”
Dolt. “Sorry. I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m really good at art, but not always so good at being socially adept. I’m Mike, but you already knew that.”
“Yes. I looked at your work. No shit, you’re good at art. I’ve never seen anything like it. Is there anything you don’t do?”
Mike thought about the skateboards, oil and acrylic paintings, pencil sketches, oil pastel and charcoal drawings. Pictures of bikes and cars he’d airbrushed and his many sketch books, his sculptures in all different mediums, the murals he painted onto campers and building sides, all flashed through his mind in an instant. “Nope. Pretty much nothing. I guess I was born that way. Just crazy for art.” Fucked up as well. He used to wish that art and depression, or at least squirrely thoughts and killer anxiety didn’t go hand in hand. Now he just knew how better to deal with that shit.
“Wow.” Allison went rigid as he sprayed her leg and fitted the stencil on. He went with the smaller design, probably a fifteen to twenty minutes job at most. “I like it,” she breathed, as she sidled up to the full length mirror. It was a pretty funny sight, her ass hanging out like it was, but Mike was a professional. He didn’t look at flesh as flesh anymore. The body was a canvas and there was nothing embarrassing about it. He was as clinical as a doctor, really. He tattooed grown men’s asses as well, for goodness sakes.
“Great. If you want to jump up on the table, you can lay on your side and I’ll get started.”
“Really? Just like that?”
“Just like that. I promise this is going to look great.” As great as any tramp stamp could. Mike watched as Allison arranged herself on the folded down padded table. He scrubbed and sanitized his hands, gloved up and took a seat. Everything was pretty much ready to go. All he had to do was pick up his machine and he was ready to roll.
What do you know, Allison lived to tell the tale. She might have cried all the way through the damn tattoo, but she made it. Afterwards, she was all smiles, and like Mike predicted, she was
already talking about coming back.
After Allison was gone, he was so intent on cleaning up his room, getting it ready for his next client, that he almost didn’t hear Kian enter until he was standing right behind him.
Mike started when Kian cleared his throat. “Holy shit, man. Warn a guy before you ghost up on him.”
Kian grinned. “If you were paying attention, you would have heard me come in.”
“Yah, well, I was busy. As you can see.”
“I see that.”
“So?” Mike arched a brow. His hands flew over his workstation, disposing of ink cups and plastic wrap, detaching his machines. “What’s up?”
“I- uh- this is going to sound really fucking awkward, man. You might want to sit down.”
“This sounds like the kind of conversation that’s best uttered behind a closed door or over a beer, or six, and forgotten afterwards.”
Taking the hint, Kian walked over to the white door and shut it behind him. He turned and faced Mike again, his face a strange mask of indecision, as though he didn’t really want to be the bearer of whatever news he was about to share.
“You’re killing me here, man. What kind of horrible shit do you have to come out with? You have a wife and a kid to tie you down.”
“It’s not about me.”
“How are Katelyn and Isabella anyway?”
“You mean since the last time you were over, which was what? Two days ago? Good. Great. All Isabella talks about is her uncle Mike.”
“Good to hear!”
“I couldn’t say why. What is there about you to really like anyway?”
Mike grinned. “Shut up, fucker. There’s lots to like. All those horseback rides and pushes on the swings that you made me assemble. And then there’s the deck that you had me come over to build, the damn hot tub we got working, and all those renovations. Good thing you have me around to fix up your house and everything.”
Kian snorted. “You’ve been marginally helpful. Now sit the fuck down and listen to what I have to say.”
“Alright.” Mike slowly sauntered over to his table and sat down heavily. He didn’t like the way Kian was looking at him, as though he was about to deliver a death blow. He waited. And waited. Finally the guy opened his mouth and cut right to the point.
“Okay. Here it is. I went over to the Fiacco’s house to deliver a deposit to Jordan. I showed up an hour earlier than I said I would, since I had some plans I had to rearrange and thought it would be no problem. It wasn’t, except I saw the weirdest thing and it makes sense, given that I haven’t seen her in a while. Which is odd. She always was around whenever I went over there.”
“Savannah.” Mike knew right away that whatever Kian had to say couldn’t be good. His insides tied into a series of twisted knots which grew more and more painful as the minutes ticked on and the anticipation of that damn death blow nearly did him in.
“Yes. She had- uh- she and her mom were getting into a car. Gianna’s car. Which isn’t the strange part.” Kian cleared his throat and Mike wanted to yell at him to just spit it out already. “Savannah had- she had a baby with her.”
Mike stilled. Time itself stopped. The room closed in. Black spots danced in front of his eyes. Kian changed, morphed into a different shape entirely.
“What?” He choked out.
“Yes. She had a baby with her. Not very old either. I only know now because Katelyn has friends that have newborns and older kids and what not. And Isabella’s daycare. I’m better at guessing age now. I would say this kid is like fresh. Real fresh. A couple months old if that.”
Mike did a quick mental count and it definitely jived with the time he and Savannah had dated. “So what are you saying? That the kid is mine?”
“Hell no. I’m just telling you what I saw. It’s possible it could be someone else’s.”
“If she was cheating on me.”
“No. She could have got pregnant after you broke up. It might not even be yours. I couldn’t get a close look. She saw me and panicked. Tucked that kid in the car pretty damn fast and her mom shot out of there like the hounds of hell were after her. She obviously didn’t want me to know, which makes me suspicious. I’ve never seen Savannah act like that before. She’s always friendly. Too friendly.” Kian coughed and glanced away awkwardly.
“You don’t have to tell me. I know Savannah. If the kid’s mine, why wouldn’t she tell me? Certainly she’d ask for child support at least or something. Who the hell gets pregnant and doesn’t tell a guy? It’s not like I wanted the breakup.”
“Okay, don’t panic here. Don’t jump to conclusions. Like I said, the kid might not be yours. It could be someone else’s.”
“How do we find out short of getting a paternity test?”
“I don’t even know if by law you can order that. I have no idea. I would say the best thing to do is just ask her.”
“And how do I do that? Show up on her front doorstep, demanding the truth? If the kid isn’t mine, she’s liable to call the cops.” The news hadn’t truly sunk in yet. Mike couldn’t even begin to process what Kian’s news meant. All he felt was a hell of a lot of pain, the same pain Savannah’s name always brought up.
“You’re right. That’s not going to help.” Kian ground his teeth together so hard his jaw clicked. “I suppose I could ask her dad. Jordan has never lied to me about anything. I have a meeting with him at the club in a week. If you can wait that long, I know I could get the truth out of him one way or another.”
“Why wouldn’t he have told you?” It really didn’t make sense. “The kid must not be mine. Savannah would have told me. Wouldn’t she?”
Kian finally shook his head. “I don’t know, man. She’s young. Flighty. She always was a little wild. I have no idea what she would do or not do. Although, she was never a bad person. Just young. It doesn’t make sense that she wouldn’t have told you. It’s probably not yours.”
“Probably isn’t going to cut it here. This is my kid we might be talking about.”
“Yah.” Kian nodded. “Fuck, man, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything until I talked to Jordan. I was going to anyway, since it was just so weird.”
“Maybe it’s just some kid she was babysitting or something.”
“But the weird thing is, I haven’t seen her around in like, six months. I thought she was just busy or in school or something. I never asked. What if she was purposely hiding away, so that I wouldn’t notice the pregnancy?”
Mike fisted his hands at his sides. He let out a frustrated sigh. “What a mess this is. If that kid is mine, this is going to be the most fucked up thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“It doesn’t have to be. I mean, kids change your life, but it’s for the best. Look at how much Katelyn and I love Isabella. I never thought I’d have room in my heart for another family after- after the accident, but I love them more than my own life. I don’t know what I would do without them.”
“I know you love them man, but this is different.”
“Not really. Isabella came into our lives unexpectedly. Katelyn and I hardly knew each other. We just made a decision to make it work. We were both older and more experienced. We knew what it would take. Having Isabella there definitely sped up the decision to get married, but honestly, I would have asked Katelyn anyway. I love her. She came into my life when I needed her most.”
“Yah, well, that is not going to be Savannah and I. Especially not if she didn’t tell me I have a damn kid. You’re dead right when you said she’s a child herself. I mean, dating her… wasn’t exactly the most- I don’t know- meaningful relationship that I’ve ever had.”
Kian shook his head slowly, disgusted. “Do yourself a favor. Quit fucking lying to me. Quit lying to yourself. If you have a kid, you’re going to need to grow up real fast.”
Mike barely managed to keep one of his fists from crashing into Kian’s face. God, he wanted to kick the guy’s ass. “Whatever. Can you ghost so I can finish up here? I have a client com
ing right away.”
“I’m going to ask Jordan, but be prepared, Mike. If that kid is yours, there is zero room for error.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. And by the way, aren’t you supposed to be cutting out the swearing? I know Katelyn has given you shit every time you drop an F-bomb in front of Isabella.”
“Shut up. This is what I get for trying to do you a solid.” Kian stalked out of the room, banging the door behind him. Mike knew he wasn’t really angry. Annoyed, maybe. He was probably just as unsettled as he was.
Kian had his own ghosts. More so than Mike. He’d had a pretty fucked up life, lost his wife and kid, never even told a soul until after he was married to Katelyn and Isabella was in his life. One night, over a beer on the deck of his new house, he’d just come out with it.
Kind of like he’d blurted the news that might change Mike’s life forever. Savannah as a mother. God, he’d spent nights imagining her, wondering what she was doing, pathetically hoping she was thinking of him.
The kid couldn’t be his. It just couldn’t, because he couldn’t believe that he had meant so little to her, she wouldn’t have wanted him in her life at all and worse, the life of his child.
Chapter 4
A Mother’s Love
Savannah
“Mom, promise me that dad won’t say anything.”
Gianna turned slowly away from the banana bread she’d been mixing in a large bowl. She held the wooden spoon in her hand aloft, almost like a threat. Little globs of sweet banana scented batter dripped off the spoon and landed in the bowl. Savannah was well aware what kind of threat those spoons entailed. She’d been whacked and paddled with them as a child more times than she could count, sometimes deserving, sometimes not.
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