Pretend I'm YoursA Single Dad Romance

by Vivian Wood

  He’d shrugged. “Just not what most people crave after a workout.”

  They’d taken the food back upstairs yesterday and eaten in near silence at the kitchen island. He’d watched her wrinkle her nose as she tipped the container of seaweed to one side.

  “What?” he’d asked as he’d dug into his own meal of packaged peanut butter sandwiches.

  “Look at all that oil,” she’d said. “And it’s full of sesame seeds.”

  “That’s what gives it any semblance of flavor at all.”

  “I don’t like it,” she’d said. Harper had pulled out some chopsticks from the plastic baggie and picked at the food like it was a science experiment.

  Now, Sean forced down the vegan wrap between generous dips in soy sauce. At least the smoothies they whipped up were on point. Thick with extra scoops of whey powder for extra protein. This would be his one and only reprieve from the coldest co-living situation ever.

  “Sean?”

  He looked up and peered over his open laptop. It took him a minute to remember their names. “Eli, Manny, what are you guys doing here?” he asked.

  “Post-workout smoothies,” Eli said. “Man, we haven’t seen you since … well—”

  “Since the accident,” Sean said. “I know.” He was used to those looks and those long pauses. Nobody seemed to know how to handle talking about the night his friend had gone into a coma.

  “We heard Ashton’s better now,” Manny piped up. His round, brown face glistened with sweat. “I mean, kind of.”

  “What’s that mean?” Sean asked.

  Eli and Manny approached Sean’s table with low voices. They’d been tertiary party friends, but never went as hardcore as Sean and Ashton. Still, Sean had glimpses of some nights with the four of them at rooftop parties and sharing bottle service.

  “I mean … he’s already addicted again, man,” Manny said. “I don’t know, I shouldn’t talk. It’s just what people are saying.”

  “People? What people? Addicted to what?”

  “People like the guy we get our party favors from,” Eli said. “I mean, he wasn’t overt about it or anything. Just said something like, ‘Ashton said it was for all of you’ when we showed up to get a little molly.”

  “Yeah, then kind of gave us shit about girly party drugs. That’s what he called it.”

  “So, what’s Ashton on?” Sean asked. Why do you care?

  “I dunno, man. I heard it was like coke and some kind of scripts. You know, the usual LA shit. You haven’t heard any of this?” Eli asked.

  “No. Honestly, I’ve been kind of …” he trailed off, unsure how much to tell them. Or how much they knew. It’s not exactly smart to go around advertising that you punched a cop or were in jail.

  “Hey, what’s that?” Manny asked. He pointed to Sean’s ankle.

  Fuck. “Uh, an ankle monitor,” he said.

  “For real? What for? The whole Ashton thing? Man, that’s bullshit—”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Not really. I uh, kind of got into an altercation a couple of weeks ago. With a cop.”

  “No shit!” Eli looked impressed. His eyes lit up. “What’d you do?”

  “Punched him,” Sean said with a shrug. “I’d been drinking, they showed up at my place, you know how it goes.”

  “Fucking A, man,” Eli said. He shook his head in wonder. “You’re my hero, you know that?”

  “Yeah. It’s not really awesome to be wearing this for the next however long,” Sean said.

  “So, wait. How are you here then?”

  “I live here.”

  “What?” Manny looked impressed. “In this building? Man, I saw this when I was looking for some new digs. It was crazy expensive even then. You’ve got some serious tricks up your sleeve, Sean.”

  “Something like that,” he said. “Hey, I gotta get going,” he said. He hoped, desperately, that they wouldn’t ask him where. It wasn’t like he had that many options.

  “Okay, cool,” Eli said. “You still got the same number? I’ll hit you up. Or just text me whenever your anklet gets off.”

  “Sounds good,” Sean said. “Later.”

  He grabbed his laptop, shoved it in his bag and made a beeline for the tenant entrance.

  As he took the elevator to the penthouse, he couldn’t help but reflect on everything that had happened. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d been in that car with Ashton, but it felt like a different person. A different life.

  Those days of hardcore partying, of waking up with piles of naked women in his bed whose names he couldn’t remember, what the hell had he been doing? And Eli and Manny, what kind of assholes were impressed with an ankle monitor?

  He hung the bag on the bronze hooks as he stepped inside. Harper’s door was closed as usual, but he saw a dim light from below the door.

  Sean sighed as he filled a glass of water. Even now, in this apartment chosen by his brother with the monitor hugging his leg, he was so much closer to where he wanted to be than ever before. He had Joon-ki with his endless patience. Even though he’d started off as his sponsor, the relationship had quickly turned to genuine friendship. Joon-ki’s the kind of person you need in your life, he told himself as he downed the water. Eli and Manny weren’t the ones waiting for you at the jailhouse, were they?

  And Harper. God, he was lucky to have her. Not that you have her anymore, he reminded himself. But she was here. She’d given up her entire life to help him out. Even after everything she’d seen. Even after everything he’d put her through.

  Harper fulfilled every fantasy he’d ever had, and even those he hadn’t fully accepted until she came into his life. Sean had always imagined that if he found the right sub, the right sexual fit, he could compartmentalize. He could keep his sub at arm’s length, on call for his whims, and that would be it. Harper broke through those molds. She was the ultimate Madonna-whore, and he was infatuated with every facet of her.

  And then there was the job. Connor hadn’t spoken to him much about it since he’d bailed him out beyond a single whisper during move-in. “The job’s still yours if you want it.” Sean had looked at him with utter surprise. Who would keep a drunk on board, even if it was their brother?

  But Connor had just grinned, slapped Sean’s back and shook his head. “We’ll talk later,” he’d said.

  In fact, it was somewhat perfect timing. Connor was taking a hiatus from opening the business for paternity leave. As Sam got closer to her due date, reality set in harder. The last he’d heard, they both planned to take at least three months off post-baby, before making the move to California and opening up shop.

  A lot can happen in three months, Sean thought. Harper was proof of that. Three months ago, he’d been toiling away in the tattoo shop. Then one day, she’d just appeared, asking for that lower back snake tattoo with her idiotic friends.

  You never know when your life’s about to change. For better or worse. He hadn’t seen Harper coming, but he hadn’t seen that night with Ashton coming, either.

  “Jesus, Ashton,” he whispered to himself. How could he just go back to the same old lifestyle? Did he really think it was all on Sean, what had happened that night? “I wasn’t even driving,” Sean said. He’d said it so many times, but it was like nobody listened. He wasn’t the druggie, he hadn’t been snorting blow all night, he hadn’t had god knows how many pills. Why had it all come down on him?

  He felt bad for Ashton. For the first time, he felt compassion and empathy without a trace of guilt. No matter what anyone said, once Ashton was out of that coma all decisions were on him. It was proof for Sean he hadn’t been at fault that night.

  And now there was Harper. He looked to the closed door and the warm light that trickled onto the concrete floors. He had to make up with her, one way or another. Or at least try. Sean had never felt this way about anyone before.

  Besides, they lived together. As odd and unorthodox as the situation was, that had to be a sign. And it gave him an advantage, that closenes
s. How hard could it be?

  8

  Harper

  Harper wavered at the coffee table. In a peace offering gesture, she’d steeped tea for both of them. However, as she leaned over the steaming pot, it poured into her head and made the room spin.

  “Are you okay?” Sean asked. He reached forward from the couch to steady her.

  “I don’t—”

  That was the last thing she remembered before darkness fell over her. She had just enough sense and stamina to aim toward the soft sheepskin rug instead of the hard floors. Sean’s voice sounded far away as he called out for her.

  She felt pinching restraints against her forearms, which woke her up. “Sean?” she asked. “It’s too tight … ”

  “Your husband couldn’t come,” a strange female voice said. “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay.”

  “Where … where am I?”

  “Right now you’re in an ambulance. We’re taking you to St. Vincent.” The woman was all business in her white uniform. Harper lifted her head to look at her arms, but was immediately, gently, pushed back down. “You’re okay, sweetie,” the woman said. “We just strapped you in for cautionary measures.”

  “What happened?” Harper asked.

  “Your husband said that you fainted.”

  “He’s not my husband.”

  “Okay, well your boyfriend or roommate or whoever called 9-1-1. He said you fainted and he couldn’t wake you up. Has this ever happened before?”

  Harper considered how much to tell them. Of course I’ve fainted before, I’m a model. Get hungry enough, and your body will just shut down temporarily. But she’d never been out for that long. She’d only fainted a few times, but every time she was almost immediately alert again. “I don’t know,” she said finally.

  “Okay. Have you had any head injuries lately? A concussion?”

  “No,” she said, happy to be blunt and honest.

  “Is there any possibility you could be pregnant?”

  “I don’t … I don’t know.”

  “Alright. Don’t worry, we’re almost there. We have your purse here, is your insurance information in there?”

  “It should be,” she said. Harper couldn’t bring herself to admit to this stranger that she’d let it lapse. Screw it, you’ve already racked up an ambulance bill. How much would that be, a thousand dollars?

  The familiar street names and lights looked alien from this reclined angle. “Why aren’t the sirens on?” she asked.

  “That’s only for emergencies.”

  At least you’re not an emergency. Maybe that would lower the bill a little. When the ambulance pulled up to the ER entrance, the driver raced around back to help. “I can walk,” Harper said, suddenly embarrassed at the attention. Even as patients limped into the ER, they stared openly at the scene she’d created.

  “Sorry, that’s not allowed.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut as she was wheeled into the bright fluorescent hallway. There was no stopping at reception or filling out of forms. Apparently when you arrived via ambulance, you got the full star treatment.

  Harper was wheeled into a small exam room. Down the hall, she could hear the screams and belligerent cries of her fellow patients. It felt like an hour before a nurse finally came in. “Harper, my name is Joy. I’m just going to take down some information, get your vitals, and the doctor will be in as soon as she can, okay?”

  “Okay.” Harper knew it was the middle of the day, but she was exhausted. She was on autopilot as she answered the nurse’s questions.

  “Is the address on your license correct?”

  “Um, no. I just moved. I … I don’t remember the address.”

  “That’s okay, we can update it later.”

  God. You don’t even know where you live.

  “Who should we put down as an emergency contact?”

  “Sean Cavanaugh.” His name was out of her mouth before she could register it. Was he really the first one she thought of? She even knew his number by heart.

  “Okay, now I’m going to check your blood pressure, lungs, and draw some blood. Huh,” the nurse said. “Such slender arms. I’m jealous! Hold on, I’ll need to get a children’s cuff for this.”

  Harper smiled into the fluorescent light. You’re not fat, she beamed to herself. A children’s cuff!

  “Alright, that’s better,” the nurse said. The cuff looked so much less serious than the big, bulky black one—so big, Harper simply couldn’t fill it. “That’s … one-sixty over one-ten. Do you have a history of high blood pressure in your family? That’s pretty high for someone your age and weight.”

  “I think it’s just stress,” Harper said. Idiot. She’d lost count of how many times doctors and medical professionals were stumped by her strange numbers. Don’t you know being so thin gives you high blood pressure? Don’t they teach you that in medical school?

  “Could be,” the nurse said. “I’ll just make a note of it. You’ll want to follow up on that if it continues.”

  Yeah, that’s what I want to spend my no-insurance money on. Monitoring a so-called condition when I know perfectly well what the cause is.

  “And now the blood,” the nurse said. “Do needles bother you?”

  She almost laughed. “No,” she said. Needles are what brought me to Sean.

  “Okay,” the nurse said. “All done! We’re pretty busy today, but the doctor will be in as soon as she can. Just sit tight.”

  She dozed off even with the blinding lights. The gut-wrenching sobs of children worked their way into her dreams. Punctuated by the sounds of messy technical jargon, she dreamed of her childhood home and the time she’d split her lip open when she ran smack into the doorframe.

  “Harper! What are you doing?” her mom had rushed to her while Harper’s best friend from kindergarten was frozen with an open mouth. The taste of blood, coppery, filled her mouth.

  She’d started to cry, not from the pain, but for the attention and for the sheer wildness of it all.

  “I … I …” she’d stammered.

  “What the hell happened?” her mom had exclaimed and turned on her friend.

  “We … we were playing tag, and she …”

  “Harper!” her mom had said as she turned back to her. She examined the lip. “Do you know this might scar? Do you know how important your face is?”

  A girlish scream pierced her brain. “You’re scaring the other patients,” a stern voice said. Her mom was gone and a bright light flooded through her eyelids.

  Harper felt a firm, warm hand on her forearm. Her eyes fluttered open. A pretty Indian woman with tired black eyes looked down at her. “Sorry to disturb your sleep,” she said. “I’m Dr. Chatterjee.”

  “Oh. Hi,” Harper said, her voice thick with sleep.

  “Well, Harper, we have a few things to discuss.”

  I’m dying, she thought ridiculously. “What, uh … what’s wrong with me?”

  “If you mean why did you faint, I have a couple of theories. For one, you’re severely dehydrated. We’ll be getting a tube in you immediately to address that.”

  “A tube? Not like a feeding tube, right? I mean, it’s just water …”

  The doctor looked at her curiously. “Why would you ask about a feeding tube?”

  Harper blushed. “I don’t know, I’m sorry. I’m still kind of out of it—”

  “Harper,” the doctor said gently. “I see a lot of models and actresses. This is LA. I know it’s trendy right now to dehydrate yourself to get that toned look all the time now, not just for photo shoots. But it’s dangerous. Especially for someone in your condition.”

  “My condition?”

  “You … you do know you’re pregnant, right?”

  “What? How do you know? That can’t be—”

  “It came back in the blood test. We can retest, but blood work is very accurate.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” Harper said urgently. She grasped for the woman’s hands. “Please.”

>   “Harper, you’re a grown woman. And there’s doctor-patient confidentiality. I don’t intend to tell anyone, nor is it legal for me to do so. But … are you alright? I can have a nurse refer you to some pregnancy support organizations. All unbiased and many free or on a sliding scale.”

  “Okay,” Harper said. Anything to shut the woman up. How can I be pregnant?

  “Do you want me to call someone for you? Your emergency contact?”

  “No!” Harper said immediately. “No. Thank you. I … my phone should be in my purse. I’ll take care of it.”

  “If you’re sure,” the doctor said. “We do need to keep you here for awhile. Partially for observation, and partially to get your hydration levels back up. I’d also recommend you talk to one of the nutritionists on staff.”

  “Nutritionists?”

  “I can’t tell you much with just the blood work, but in my experience dehydration in a woman your age often goes hand in hand with malnutrition. It’s often an attempt to fit a certain mold of what women are supposed to look like. Given your height and bone structure … are you a model?”

  “Was,” Harper said glumly.

  “I know how demanding that industry can be,” the doctor said. “And I know what lengths women in that profession go to in order to maintain their figure. No matter what you decide to do about the pregnancy, I want you to meet with a nutritionist before you’re discharged.”

  “Fine,” Harper said. She forced a smile at the doctor, the looked away until the woman exited through the curtain.

  She dug her phone out of her purse. It was full of missed calls and texts from Sean. Hey, she texted. I’m okay, just getting fluids at the hospital.

  What’s wrong? What happened?? Sean texted.

  Her phone lit up with a call, which she silenced. Can’t talk now, nurses coming in, she said. Just dehydrated, that’s all. Should be released in a few hours.

  Call me when you can? Sean asked.

  Ok. Putting phone on airplane mode now to save battery.

  She turned off the phone and closed her eyes.

  What the fuck are you going to do now? she thought.