by Danah Logan
"You did?" My surprise was audible. I didn't think he ever left Lilly's side.
"I was there for a few days before I came to pick you up." He turned his head and leveled me with a look that made me hold my breath. "Monroe, you are as fierce as they come, and you will survive this world no matter what happens. I don't know Wes—he's not been around for most of my time with Lilly—but I saw him before he left town."
He did?
"He came to the house. Lilly told him everything. Was he pissed? Hell, yes. Dude was fuming."
That was encouraging—not. My rapid pulse was making it hard to sit still.
"But who wouldn't be?" Marcus splayed his palms in a questioning gesture. "The guy didn't have a chance to get eased into either situation—your father or his baby."
"What if—" I started, but Marcus interrupted me.
"He will come around. Trust me. But even if his stubborn ass needs time, you can do this. Show the world who Kingsley Monroe is."
Show the world. A small smile formed on my lips. Who would've thought that The Shadow would give me a pep talk and be decent at it? I slanted my head and glanced at him. "Who is Marcus Baxter?"
He mimicked my expression, then patted my knee and stood up. "That, little fighter, is a conversation for another day. Let's go try on dresses. I'm not carrying them all back."
And try on we did. Thirteen dresses, each one more beautiful than the last. Mags and Lilly had to help me while Marcus lounged on the couch like a king—no pun intended—commenting as if he had a say. Though, I found myself agreeing with him whenever he scrunched his nose at one of the outfits. It was almost eerie how alike we were.
In the end, we settled on number seven: a black, sleeveless, floor-length, A-line dress. It was simple yet elegant and the fanciest dress I'd ever had.
"I still don't think this is a good idea," I confessed to Lilly as Marcus loaded the rest of the gowns back into their SUV.
Lilly faced me head-on, taking my hands. "I'm the bride. I want you there," she stated, then softened her features. "You won't be alone for a minute, I promise you. Wes can go suck a lemon." She grinned, and a laugh bubbled up inside of me. How did this happen?
After I watched Lilly and Marcus drive off, I went to find Mags in the kitchen. We stared at each other for a long moment before we both burst out laughing. The reaction made no sense, and at the same time, was completely reasonable.
"I should probably ask Grizz if I can have my job back." I sobered. "At least for a little while." I needed as much money as I could get to support us.
And that's how I ended up shocking Grizz into silence a few hours later. "Grizz?" I prod carefully.
Still no reaction. I lean closer to Mags. "Should we call someone?" I chew on my lip. This doesn't seem normal.
"Yo, boss!" a voice hollers from behind me, and Mags and I turn in unison. Dean stops in his tracks, his eyes bugged out. "Holy shit! You're back." Then, his gaze drops lower. "And with a carry-on."
Mags snorts, and from inside Grizz's office comes a barked laugh. I peer over my shoulder and see that Grizz has recovered himself. Facing Dean, I say, "I am." I place a hand on my stomach, glancing down to my daily growing Nugget.
"That is…wow." He props his hands on his hips. "Who's the father?"
"None of your fucking business." Mags steps in front of me. I'm grateful for her taking over. I have no desire to hash out my fucked-up situation with a coworker before I get to speak to the father of my baby.
Dean holds his palms up. "Understood, Drill Sergeant Mags."
She lifts her fist as if to punch him, but he sidesteps her. Focusing on me, he pleads, "Please tell me you're back. Mags has been a raging bitch for months, and your replacement is useless."
My replacement. God, I hate that word. Grasping how my life was intertwined with so many, after having been on my own for the better part of fifteen years—Kiwi excluded—my heart sinks. Heaviness pulls on me like a weight drags one to the bottom of the ocean. I hollow my cheeks and shrug, pretending that this didn't affect me.
Mags, still in charge, addresses Grizz. "What's the verdict?" This would be the first time she would give him any say in a decision.
"Are you good to work on your feet?" His concern chases the dark blanket of guilt away and turns my insides to mush. This tattooed bear of a man has never been anything but kind to me.
"Yes, I've been working twelve-hour shifts in…" I trail off. It's not important where I was.
Grizz nods. "Okay, but you take breaks whenever you need them. We'll keep Kira on as a backup. She can help you grab stuff, and you focus on mixing. No heavy lifting." As he speaks, he stands and comes around his desk. I can't help my emotions spilling out and launch myself at my boss. We had never touched beyond a handshake when I first started working for him. But this moment, right now, I'm wrapped around his midsection, and it's where I'm meant to be. The Grizz is home. He drapes his arms around my shoulders, holding on tight. "Glad you're back, King."
My door flies open, and I shield my eyes against the sudden glare coming from my ceiling light.
"Rise and shine, bitch!"
My pillow disappears from under my head and lands on my face. This means war. She has no idea what it means to assault a preggo with not enough sleep.
"WHAT THE FUCK?" I swat at the pillow.
My friend drops on the mattress next to me, propping her head with her hand. "We're going shopping. Get up!"
Huh?
"I don't need anything. I grow out of it in two days anyway," I grumble, trying to push her off my bed with my foot.
"Not for you, dummy. For your little bowling ball." Is dummy an up- or downgrade from bitch?
"I still can't believe you refuse to tell me the gender." Mags's toothy grin dims, and she juts her bottom lip out.
I push myself up to sit against my remaining pillow. I don't want to hope, but at the same time, I do. It's a constant tug-of-war in my heart. "Not until I talk to Wes, and who knows when that will be?"
My friend growls. "That drunk dimwit needs a good kick in the ass."
"Don't call him that!" I snap at her. I'm not happy with him running away either, but hearing her call him names instantly makes my body tense up. "Owww." I double over.
"WHAT?" Mags looks at me, alarmed. "What happened? Do you need a doctor?"
"Nugget didn't like you calling Wes names either." I grind my teeth as my baby goes to town on my full bladder. I don't even want to think about what she can do when she's bigger in there.
Mags leans close to my belly. "I'm sorry, little one. Your daddy needs to stop being a stubborn ass, though."
Kick.
"MAGS!" I wince and laugh at the same time.
She makes a zip motion over her mouth, eyes twinkling. Getting up, she scratches Echo's head, who lays in her bed in front of mine. "Get dressed. I want to buy my new little bestie some attire."
I blink several times. Damn hormones. "Give me a few. I need to shower."
"Okey dokey. I'll get your decaf ready," she quips, leaving my room.
"I hate you!" I want real coffee.
Mags buys every gender-neutral baby item she can find in the one store we have in this small town. Everything is absolutely gorgeous, but when the cashier gives her the total, I want to throw up.
"Mags, that's too much." I stare at her as she hands over her credit card.
"Shut up."
"Seriously, this—" I try again, but she cuts me off.
"Kingsley Monroe, if you don't stop, I will also buy that gigantic, life-size giraffe you stared at for seven minutes." The girl behind the counter snickers, and I want the earth to swallow me whole. I'm not good at accepting gifts. I'm used to earning everything I have.
We haul the nine bags—NINE—to my Jeep, and Mags deposits them in the back.
"Let's go have lunch with Kiwi," she declares as she lifts the last one in.
"He's with Zeke today." Kiwi texted that the guys were all playing flag football in the p
ark this morning, and he was going to watch.
"So?"
"They're Wes's friends." I fling my hands up. She can't be that dense.
"And Kiwi is your brother from another mother. Fuck 'em." That is the end of the conversation, and I know it. She'll drag me there by my hair if I put up any more of a fight.
Mags drives us to the park the guys are at. It takes less than ten minutes, but I can't help fidget with my Du Hoc the entire way.
She eyes me carefully. "We'll have to chat about your little tic when the baby is here. It's not safe."
"When did you become the mother hen?" I grumble, sheathing the blade against my urge to keep it out.
"Until you have a clear head, and you and asswipe sort out your differences, I'm your voice of reason. We also need to buy outlet covers and—"
"You want us to stay at your place?" I gape at her, my mouth hanging open.
Mags keeps glancing over while she maneuvers the Jeep into the parking lot. "I'm trying not to be insulted here. It is your place as much as it is mine."
I bark out a laugh. "You need to get your potty mouth under control then."
"Consider it done." She blows me a kiss, and my heart skips a beat. I am home. Now I hope Gray won't have anything to say against it.
The park actually goes better than expected. Kiwi and I lounge on a blanket, bundled up in coats with another blanket on our legs—April in Montana and all. As long as the sun is out, the temperature feels nice, but one cloud covering the sun, and it's freezing.
At one point, Zeke jogs over and drops down next to me. "It's good to see you, King."
His sincerity makes a lump form in my throat, and I croak, "You, too."
After a moment, he says, "Sheats will pull the stick out of his ass sooner or later." Before I can answer, he jumps back up and joins the game again.
Kiwi wraps his arm around my shoulder, and I lean into him, hiding in the crook of his neck. "Why is everyone so nice to me?"
A chuckle rumbles in his chest. "I'm not even dignifying that with an answer, Roe-Roe."
Buzz, buzz.
I'm sitting on my bed, sorting through everything Mags bought today. Every single item is more than I could've ever hoped to provide for my baby. I had prepared myself for thrift-shop bargains because, let's be real, a decent roof over our heads (in a safe neighborhood) and food are more important than a onesie Nugget would grow out of in a week. And I was okay with that. You can find great items in thrift stores.
Buzz, buzz.
Eyeing my phone on the nightstand, I contemplate what to do. It seems too far away. Being out all day after not enough sleep has taken its toll. I'm dead on my feet—or ass since I'm parked in the middle of the mattress.
Buzz, buzz.
Jesus, what does Kiwi want now? He left an hour ago, and Mags is at work. I shift onto all fours and crawl over. Before I can take the device, the screen lights up with the repeat notification, and my stomach drops. My arms give out, and I plop onto the bed, followed by jerking back up. The last thing I want is to pancake my baby.
I programmed his name in just because. I never gave him my number, though. In slow motion, I reach out and pick up my phone. Swiping, I hold my breath.
Wes: Hi.
Wes: U there?
My heart is pounding in my chest, and the flutter in my stomach could be anything from happiness (he's reaching out) to dread (he's finally going to tell you he never wants to see you or your baby again) to heartburn.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I don't know what to do. I type and erase the two words three times because I misspell at least one letter.
Me: I'm here.
The bubble pops up immediately.
Wes: Hi.
He said that already.
Me: Hi.
Nothing happens for two minutes, and the flutter in my stomach turns into a black hole. I place my hand over Nugget and rub circles. My phone goes dark, and I press my lips together to prevent them from trembling. I'm about to place it to the side when it buzzes in my hand. I don't think I've ever opened a message this fast.
Wes: How are you feeling? Is the baby okay?
"Your daddy is asking about you," I whisper to my belly. I don't want to get too excited, but the relief has me sagging against my pillows.
Me: We're good. Though, she doesn't like to sleep when I want to sleep.
I hit send and then realize my error. Shit.
Instead of another text, his face lights up the screen. He's calling—double shit. I had downloaded a picture of him from Kai's social media profile since Kai's is set to public. It is an old photo because, after I left, none of his friends shared one with Wes in it.
I swallow and answer the call. I can do this. I might throw up in the process, but I can do this.
"Hi." I hate how weak my voice sounds.
"I'm having a daughter?" His tone is equally low, but the awe and shock are coming through the speaker in waves.
"Yes." I haven't been this terrified since walking into The Pole that night.
Silence. Then, "Is she healthy?" I swear his tone cracks, and the stuffed animal I'm holding becomes blurry.
"She's perfect." I sniff and wipe under my nose.
I sit there, listening to his breathing on the other end, and watch the numbers on my alarm clock tick by.
"I want to—"
"I'm sor—" We both start at the same time and then laugh.
"You first," I blurt out.
"I, um… I want to be in her life." He speaks slowly, and when his words sink in, it's like he's stabbed me in the heart.
Her life. Not yours. Not both of yours. Hers. I close my eyes.
You knew this was one possible outcome, I chastise myself internally.
Forcing myself to draw in a slow breath and swallow hard, I reply, "I would've never kept her from you."
"Thank you."
"Uh, you're welcome?" I have no idea what to say.
"Can we talk when I get back to town? Figure out logistics?"
"Logistics," I repeat. "Yeah, sure." All I want is to get off this call so I can properly break down.
"Okay, I, um…I'll text you."
"Oka—" I click the end button so he doesn't hear my voice crack.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Den sits across from me on the jet. She's had a frown on her face since the wheels left the ground.
"What is it, D?" There are several options, and I don't feel like guessing. The last few days have taken it out of me. Also, my adrenaline level has been off the charts since Rhys informed me that King would be attending the wedding—with Marcus. What the actual fuck? Three days and I regret my decision to slow my alcohol consumption.
She is Lilly's guest. The two bonded even more, and since King didn't have a date and Marcus would be off the clock, Rhys's treacherous fiancée paired them up. I have my suspicion that this is all a ploy to piss me off. A successful ploy, but what the hell? And why would King go along with it?
Oh, I know why. I told her that I didn't want anything to do with her—only our daughter. Daughter. Jesus Christ, I'm having a baby girl. I've been trying to wrap my head around it since I read her words. The multitude of emotions that crashed down on me ranged from the urge to fist pump to throwing up. I tapped the call button so fast I didn't think about what I was going to say to her.
After landing in New York—Den's current hometown—my first stop was a liquor store. I arrived at her place sometime close to midnight, and to say she was displeased was putting it mildly. I was halfway through my first bottle of amber liquid, wrapped neatly in a brown paper bag.
"Really, Sheats?" If looks could kill. She shivered in her sleep shorts and tank top, but propped the door open farther. I stumbled past her with my duffel slung over my shoulder and clipped her in the process. She hurled several very explicit curse words after me as I headed down the hallway, supporting myself against the wall.
"I hathing babeee," I stated loudly—or at least I tried.
"Excuse me?" her pissed-off question echoed from the entrance to the living room. Despite my inner turmoil, my pulse was steady. A result of the heaviness that had been weighing me down since I left Stonebriar? I didn't know, the confusion driving me to block everything out with the help of my favorite liquid friend. I fell on Den's ostentatious sectional and peered up at her. My brain was full of cotton, and I closed my eyes to put the words in the right order. Speaking purposefully slow, I repeated myself, "I'm having a baby."
Squinting at her, Den resembled a fish the way her mouth opened and closed—no sound coming out. I pointed at her with the neck of the bottle clutched between the rest of my fingers. "Exactly my reaction." Then, a laugh broke free, and I couldn't stop. How could this happen to me?
After my manic moment subsided, I leaned forward, propped my elbows on my knees, and covered my face, still keeping hold of my paper-clad companion. The cushion beside me dipped, and the bottle was pried out of my hand.
"Did you say you're having a baby?" Her disbelief was audible.
I turned toward Den. "King's pregnant." My nice and comfortable buzz was quickly evaporating.
"She's back? How? When?" She scanned my eyes back and forth.
"Lilly brought her back." I couldn't help but throw D's BFF under the bus. I didn't feel like being the only one that had been kept in the dark—well, technically, Rhys had been as well.
"Come again?"
I reached for the whiskey that was now sitting on the low glass table in front of us, but Den beat me to it. She snatched it up and chugged. Lowering the bottle, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I need you coherent for this," she exclaimed before she took another gulp.
Whoa.
"Oh, but you are allowed to get trashed?" I scoffed.
"Hell, yeah. That way, I can't be held accountable for what I say to Lilly." A smirk pulled one corner of her mouth up.
