by Frankie Love
But it doesn’t matter anymore. Now, only one thing matters— this baby.
“Something like that. Someone new could enter my life at any moment and change things forever.”
I don’t add, that special someone already has.
But it doesn’t change the fact that this baby is my world now, coming into my life unexpectedly. Not a traditional love story, but it’s my love story.
And that is more than enough for me.
Chapter 9
Charlie
We’re standing in our office on Main Street, closing up for the day, when I decide it’s time to break the news to Clive.
“I need to talk to you about Maggie.”
His back is to me as he closes this laptop. “I thought we covered that pretty damn well when I punched you in the face.”
“I’m serious,” I tell him. “I am in love with her.”
Clive turns to face me. “It’s not happening.”
I snort. “It already happened.”
Clive scowls. “What happened, exactly?”
“I finally came to my goddamn senses.”
“Meaning what? You sleep with her once and then decide you love her? That isn’t coming to your senses. That’s letting your dick take the fucking lead.”
I don’t want to yell, not now, not when I’m talking about Mags. I’ll target him where it will hurt the most. “And what exactly led when you decided you loved Hazel after knowing her a week?”
Clive runs a hand over his beard. “It’s not the same.”
“Like hell, it ain’t.” I shake my head. “Actually, you know what? It’s not. I’ve known Maggie my whole damn life. I know what I’m getting with her, You didn’t know Hazel’s favorite movie or earliest memory when you asked to marry her. You just knew she was the one.”
“Exactly. I knew it from the moment we met. You’ve known Maggie forever and what? You just now decided she’s worth your time?”
“Fuck no. What happened was… I just now woke the hell up and saw what I’ve been missing my whole damn life.”
“My sisters have been through so much after losing Luke, I don’t want them hurt anymore.”
I clench my fists tightly. He’s hitting me where it hurts. “You don’t think I’ve struggled since Luke died? You know I have, brother.” I press my fist to my lips, choking back tears. “When you got hurt on the mountain back when you were running from Hazel; when I came and picked you up, you remember what you said to me?” I ask. “You said we can do better, be better men. Let me be better, Clive. Give me your blessing and let me be the best man for Maggie.”
Clive nods, slowly, then pulls me in for a hug.
After we’ve bro-hugged it out, he leans back on his desk and asks if I want a word of advice.
“Give it to me,” I say.
“If Maggie goes for this—the whole thing where you guys make a go of it, don’t rush into having kids. Don’t get me wrong, Hazel and I are pumped for our baby, but we missed out on any sort of honeymoon period, you know?”
“Don’t worry about that,” I tell him. “I’m in no hurry for a family. Hell, I just figured out how to be a real fucking man this week.”
Clive shakes his head. “That’s not true Charlie. You’ve been a man for a long time. You just lost your way there for a while.”
“So now I just have to win her back.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” he asks.
“I’m gonna start by baking her favorite cake.”
“She’ll like that. It’s thoughtful,” Clive says. “And then what? A cake only lasts for so long before it’s gone.”
“Then I’m gonna give her the engagement ring I bought.”
Clive cocks an eyebrow at me. “And what if I hadn’t given you my blessing?”
I laugh. “Then I would have said it’s been good ass ride, Clive.”
“You’d give up everything we’ve been through for my sister?”
“Sorry man, but it’s the truth. She’s the one for me.”
Clive nods, and it’s like I’ve earned his respect on a whole new level. “Then what are doing standing here for? Go tell her that.”
Chapter 10
Maggie
I’ve eaten more cake today than I ever need to eat again. At least I’m not dealing with morning sickness. Or, I guess, early evening sickness, considering it’s five o’clock.
I’m in a new pair of LuLuRoe leggings—in a cute cupcake print, obviously— and have my laptop open, reading Yahoo answers on what to expect when you’re unexpectedly expecting.
The next comment is written by a woman in Memphis who says, “Buy cat food.”
I just feel like no one understands me.
Not that I’ve tried. I feel shitty about lying to my sister and terrified to call Charlie. Normally when I feel alone, I call up some friends and throw together a night out, but I’m not up for it. I’m not up for anything. I’m having a baby and have never even kissed the father.
I wipe the tears away with a tissue.
Is this depression?
No. I can’t be depressed. I ate an entire celebration cake today, save for the slice Greta took. That’s it. I’m just coming down from a sugar coma.
Maybe I should brush my teeth.
With a toothbrush in my mouth, I stare in the mirror, trying to see myself with a baby belly. Which leads me to think about how Charlie will look at me when I have a baby belly. And as I spit out my toothpaste, I am once again left near tears.
This is not the order things should go.
I can be a mom, in fact, I can be a great mom. That isn’t my hang up. The hang up is carrying the child of the man I have always loved, who has never loved me back.
The knock on the door jostles me from the staring contest with myself.
Padding down the hallway of my little house, I yell, “Who is it?”
I pull open the door, not waiting for an answer.
It’s Charlie.
With a pile of brown frosting on top of what looks like a chocolate cake but could more easily be classified as a disaster.
Now I feel nausea.
“Excuse me,” I say, holding up a finger, and running to the bathroom.
I make it in time, but once there I find I can’t heave like I want to. False alarm I guess. Maybe it’s just a stress-sickness. Is that a thing? Like I’m physically making myself ill because of the anxiety over telling Charlie about our new, forever, responsibility.
You know, the one he never asked for.
“You okay, Mags?” he asks from down the hall. I gargle with a glass of water and then return to him. He’s set the cake-aster on my kitchen table. I try not to look t it.
“Did Greta tell you to come over?” I ask. When he looks at me with confusion, I realize I never told my sister the reason I needed to talk to Charlie, or even that it had anything to do with Charlie.
I am a certifiable basket case right now.
“Are you alright?” Charlie asks, stepping toward me. He presses the back of his hand to my forehead. When he touches me, I remember the last time he touched my forehead. Ours pressed together and we looked into one another’s eyes and—
I have got to pull it together.
“Mags?” he asks again. “Do you need some water? Are you hungry?”
“Cat food,” I sigh, pulling away and leaning against my kitchen counter. “I need to buy cat food.”
“You don’t have a cat.”
I look up at him. His chocolate eyes are so warm and yummy. Like chocolate chip cookies, straight from the oven. When I look at him I get all gooey and I forget. I forget everything. Especially my filter.
And why would I have a filter anymore? I should just lay it all out on the line. I literally have nothing else to lose at this point. I love Charlie and I always have and I am having his baby.
“I used to have a cat. A kitten.”
“I remember. Her name was Petals.”
I close my eyes, feeling both emotion
ally charged and drained all at once. “You remember Petals?”
Charlie closes the distance between us. “I remember a lot of things, Maggie.”
“Like what?” I don’t want to believe it, or to get my hopes up. To think he sees me as more than Clive’s little sister, or worse, a hook-up that lasted just one night.
“I remember when you learned to bake. You’d make apple pies when you were ten years old. You would get so mad when the crust didn’t roll out right.”
I swallow, remembering.
“You’d throw it away, then try again and again until you perfected it. You never quit on a recipe, and you never quit on people.”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I feel my skin prick at his touch. I don’t want to crave him, but I do. I’ve been addicted to him since I was a little girl.
“I think you loved to bake because it meant people were always around. Your life was always full as long as food was in it. You’d bake a few dozen cupcakes and invite Clive’s Little League team over. You’d make cherry tarts and walk around the neighborhood, passing them out. Your baking is what made you so outgoing, so good with people. It made you who you are.”
He just keeps going. “But there is more to you than cake. You’re such a good sister, such a good aunt. You remember everyone’s birthdays and anniversaries and bring flowers to meet your neighbors. Hell, Maggie, you’re the complete package and your only twenty-three. I don’t understand how someone like you hasn’t been snatched up yet; why there isn’t a ring on your finger.”
I shake my head, unable to believe his words. That he was really watching, listening. That he knows me.
I don’t want to believe it because what if it isn’t true. What if he isn’t here for me? Then what?
Then I’m back where I started, except my heart will be in shreds.
I can’t be the best mom to this child if I’m heartbroken.
“It’s too late, Charlie. Things are changing for me.”
“Changing how?”
I leave the kitchen and fall down on the couch. The one thing about knowing someone for more than half your life is that there is no pretense here. Charlie knows who I am, better than I ever thought. I don’t have to pretend I’m something I’m not with him.
“Everything’s changing,” I say, my face burrowed in a pillow.
He kneels beside me, and I turn to face him, my cheek squished and my hair a mess and I don’t care. This is who I am. I was never enough to attract his man cake before now, why would it be different now? He filled me up with his baby batter but I’m not naive enough to believe he’ll want to raise this bun in the oven with me.
I’m knocked up but that doesn’t mean I want to be his backup plan or second choice. For me, it’s all or nothing. I don’t want to be anything besides his number one.
And that feels like I’m asking for a lot.
Like asking for all I’ve ever wanted.
“Is there someone else?” Charlie asks, looking at me intently.
I never see him like this… so serious. Or at least I haven’t in years. Before Luke died there were many glimpses of a more grounded Charlie… but not in years.
“Mags,” he says more quietly. “Are you running away with one of your blind dates? Marrying some guy you barely know?”
I bury my face back into the pillow, not trusting myself to look at him.
“Mags,” he says again, and this time I can’t help but turn and look at him. Who am I fooling? I’ve never been able to resist Charlie.
He has always, always, always had my heart.
“None of my blind dates were you,” I tell him plainly.
He closes his eyes, exhales as if he’s been holding his breath for weeks.
“You mean that, Maggie?” he asks, looking so completely raw.
I nod. Because I do mean it. I could go on a hundred dates, sleep with a dozen men, and none of them would ever, ever be like Charlie.
And when I look in his eyes, I think for a hopeful second that maybe I could be the one for him.
Then I remember the baby.
Our baby.
And a relationship has been too steep a commitment for Charlie for the last few years. I’d be crazy to think a baby wouldn’t have him running for the hills.
“I need to tell you something,” I say softly. “It’s important.”
He shakes his head sharply. “No, don’t tell me yet.” He stands, heading for the kitchen. I sit up. Watching him, not sure what he’s up to.
He walks back into the living room carrying that hot mess of a cake.
“It’s a German Chocolate. Well, at least kind of. This is my third attempt. The other two were worse than this if you’d believe it.”
I look at the coconut frosting and the crumbling layers and between them, I see a heck of a lot of effort.
But why?
“It’s your favorite. Your celebration cake.”
I cock my head to the side, not sure what the celebration is. And why we are celebrating anything together. And why he did this at all?
“Charlie—” I try, wanting to stop this before he says something he will end up regretting.
“No, Maggie. Let me say what I came here to say.”
I bite my bottom lip, resisting the impulse to say more.
“But before we talk, can we have some cake?” he asks.
I make a louder than necessary grimace.
He drops his head in defeat. “Really? That awful of an idea, to have cake with me?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just, I had a lot of cake already today. A lot of German Chocolate cake today. Like, an entire cake.”
“Did you bake it?”
I nod.
He sits next to me on the couch. It’s something we’ve done hundreds of times over the years, at Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas mornings and birthday parties. Being around Charlie has never been weird— of course, I’ve always dreamt of it being more—but just being his friend was enough.
And right now I am terrified that everything good we have is going to change.
Forever.
“You only make those for important occasions,” he says, our knees touching. The mood in my house changes. That moment in the bakery, when he took me against the fridge, when we stopped for a moment and looked so deep inside one another, that moment is back.
Charlie clears his throat. “What was so special about today, Mags?”
I squish my face, nervous to be so close to him for the first time in forever.
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”
“Oh.” His eyes flash with worry. “Well, can I go first?”
I close my eyes, not knowing what to expect.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
I squeeze my eyes closed tighter. I’m not ready for everything I’ve ever known to change. As long as the baby is my secret alone, the world around me doesn’t change, but the moment Charlie knows, nothing will go back to what it once was.
“Mags,” he says, and then his hand is on the base of my neck and he pulls my forehead to his and I open my eyes, scared to let this moment pass without looking into those panty-melting eyes.
He is going to kiss me.
For the first time, Charlie is going to kiss me. I lick my lips, lean closer, but he doesn’t kiss me.
Instead, he leaves me floored.
“Marry me, Maggie.”
Chapter 11
Charlie
She’s so damn beautiful. Seeing her here, in cozy clothes, so close to me, I can’t help but think that she and I could sit like this forever.
I could spend the rest of my life wishing I’d seen it sooner. Realized how good we could be together years ago—but instead, I’m going to hold on to the fact that I figured it out now before it was too late.
She looks at me with so much shock, absolute surprise, that I realize I really have caught her off guard, completely.
I’m hoping that since it’s what everyone s
ays she’s wanted forever, she’ll still want it now.
But by the looks of it now, with her face crumbling, tears filling her beautiful, wide eyes, I wonder if everyone got it all wrong all that time.
Especially me.
“Charlie,” she says, covering her face. “You have to take it back. Those words. You have to take them back.”
“Like hell I do,” I tell her, reaching for the ring in my pocket. Pulling it out I offer it to her. “Tell me one good reason you and I shouldn’t be married? Shouldn’t spend a life together?”
She lowers her hands, shaking her head, a flurry of tears staining her cheek. “I can think of dozens of reasons why not,” she tells me.
I clench my jaw. I am not losing this woman, not when I just figured out how damn much she means to me. “Starting with?”
“We’ve never even kissed, Charlie. You can’t marry someone you’ve never kissed.”
Without thinking twice, I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her to my lap. She sits down, just like she should, and I press my hands on the base of her neck, and I leave a trail of kisses on her ear, blowing warm air before reaching her mouth.
Her perfect, pink mouth. The mouth I’ve been dreaming about ever since I took her virginity. I’ve been dreaming of her lips as I jack off in the shower, as I lose a load when I wake up in the middle of the night, hard as fuck, with dreams filled with her.
I kiss her softly, her sweet lips part, and my tongue finds hers.
I don’t hold back.
I kiss her with all that I am and all I have. I kiss her, feeling her shoulders fall. I kiss her, soaking up the sounds of her moaning against my mouth. I kiss her, knowing she feels the current of power coursing between us.
She wants this as badly as I need this and I kiss her until we both forget to breathe and can only inhale one another.
“I fucking love you, Maggie,” I tell her, panting from the kiss that could fucking move mountains. Our foreheads touch again and I look in her eyes, the ones still filled with tears and she shakes her head.
“Don’t, Charlie,” she says, pressing her palm to my chest. “Don’t say that.”
My chest tightens, unable to imagine a world where Maggie and I don’t end up together.
