“For what?”
“Everything,” he states simply, moving his hand up to my stomach. “All this.”
The door opens and the doctor walks in, lifting his eyes from my chart to greet us.
“Good afternoon, how are we doing?” he asks, extending his hand to Jack. He lifts his hand from my stomach and shakes the doctor’s hand. The doctor takes a seat on the stool in front of me and signals for the nurse to hand him a new pair of gloves.
“Good, the morning sickness finally eased up,” I tell the doctor, watching as he fits his hands into the gloves and turns on the sonogram machine.
“Very good, the urine sample you gave showed everything else is fine.” He grabs the tube of gel and the sonogram wand. “How about we take a look at this baby and hear that heartbeat?”
“Yes, please,” I say, my voice catching as Jack grabs a hold of my hand and leans forward. I stare at his face and watch his eyes become glued to the screen as the doctor squirts the blue gel over my stomach and presses the wand against my skin.
Kaboom, kaboom, kaboom.
“Is that the heartbeat?” Jack rasps.
“It sure is,” the doctor confirms. He pauses to measure the beats before a smile spreads across his face. “Nice and strong.”
Kaboom, kaboom, kaboom.
I divert my eyes from Jack’s face to the screen as he squeezes my hand and the image of our baby fills the screen.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Jack mutters.
“That’s the head,” the doctor points out, moving the wand around my belly and laughing. “Well now, look at that.”
“What?” I ask, wiping the tears from my cheek.
“Do you want to know what it is?”
I turn to Jack, his eyes widen as he peels them from the screen and lifts them to mine.
“Do you?” he whispers.
A part of me did but the bigger part of me wanted to be surprised. I don’t know if he read my answer from my eyes or if he felt the same. He turned to the doctor and replied.
“Let’s keep it under wraps, doc,” he states, lifting my hand to his lips.
“Nothing wrong with a surprise,” the doctor says. “Everything checks out. The baby is right on target,” he announces removing the wand from my belly and wiping away the gel. “The nurse will print you out some of the photos and I’ll see you next month.”
“Thanks, doc,” Jack says, handing me my clothes and helping me sit up. The doctor exits the room, and I dress as the nurse prints the photos and hands them to Jack before she leaves us alone.
I am putting on my shoes when I lift my head and see Jack staring down at the photograph in awe. He reaches into his jacket and pulls out his pack of cigarettes. I open my mouth to object but before I can he turns around and steps down on the trash can, opening it and throwing the pack inside. He shoves the photos into his jacket pocket and holds out his hand for mine.
“I quit,” he states.
“Just like that?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
He lays his hand over his chest, over the pocket where the pictures are safely tucked inside of and shakes his head.
“Don’t want to miss a goddamn thing, Sunshine. So, yeah, just like that,” he says, pulling me to my feet and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, he bends at the knees and claims my mouth.
He kisses me thoroughly as the sound of our baby’s heartbeat echoes inside my head and I silently thank God for the first time since the tragic fire.
I thank him for letting me survive.
Because surviving wasn’t so bad.
Especially when I had so much to live for.
No, surviving was a blessing, the first of the many I have been granted.
Chapter Fourteen
I dare someone to tell me that being a mom is an easy job. While it is the most rewarding job I’ve ever had, it is also the most exhausting. I’m fucking tired as hell and if I’m being honest, I have no idea how my mother did it. I mean she was by herself with two kids and always seemed to hold it together. Me? I have a gallon jug of Carlo Rossi Sangria in the fridge at all times.
Eric is perfect.
The best little boy in the whole world—when he’s sleeping. The first few months was easy, he ate, slept and pooped. Then he turned eleven months and found his legs. Eric took his first steps and life as we knew it changed forever. He’s constantly running around, getting into things he shouldn’t be—hence the wine.
Between the work out I get from running after a toddler and the one Riggs gives me every night, I’ve officially lost all my baby weight. Don’t get me wrong there is no denying my body has changed from my pregnancy. I still have that bitch of a pouch above the scar from my cesarean and the stretch marks over my stomach never really faded much either. I’m okay with the changes though and that’s mainly because of Riggs. He calls my stretch marks my colors and tells me to own them. He tells me the scar hidden under my panty line is my patch, branding me Eric’s mom. He takes the MC thing a little too far but with him it’s go big or go home. It’s all part of his larger-than-life personality.
“Eric, no!” I groan as he grabs a handful of SpaghettiOs and flings them at me. He giggles mischievously. Yeah, there’s no denying Eric’s got his daddy’s personality.
Heaven help us all.
“That’s a bad boy,” I scold, wiping the spaghetti sauce from my cheek, sure I missed some as I dig the spoon back into the dish and try to feed him some more.
I try to make those silly airplane sounds and bring the spoon to his mouth only for him to smack it away with his chubby hand and shake his head.
Yeah, I was acing this motherhood gig.
I shove the spoon into my mouth and take a bite. Don’t judge me, at least it’s not one of those puff things that melt in your mouth. Usually, Eric and I share a tub of those for lunch.
“Okay, you’re done,” I declare as he smashes the few SpaghettiOs that fell onto the table into his shirt. I unclasp the harness from his body and lift him out of the chair, placing him down on his feet and watch as he waddles off into the unknown.
I take a minute to throw the bowl and spoon into the sink, figuring that’s how long I had until he made another mess out of something. Riggs baby-proofed the apartment, well, sort of. He bought those foam noodles you buy for the pool, cut them in half and duck taped them to every straight edge and sharp corner. I tried explaining to him they sold all sorts of gadgets, and he didn’t have to make his own but there wasn’t any way to convince him. The other day when Eric started opening the cabinets, I went to Babies R Us and bought the baby proof locks before Riggs engineered some sort of device to keep them closed.
The thing about baby proof locks is sometimes they work so well the adults can’t open them either. The locks went out the window when Riggs wound up pulling the cabinet off the hinge. Now, if you look at our kitchen, there are chain links tied around the knobs, and every cabinet is secured with a padlock. I don’t even remember the code to open the fucking things and gave up trying to figure them out.
I turn around just in time to watch Eric rip his diaper off and run around the coffee table naked.
Please don’t poop.
Please don’t pee.
The doorbell rings as I chase Eric around the table, attempting to put a new diaper on before I had a bigger mess. I’ve learned how to put his diaper on while he stands. I’m like a damn magician when it comes to those things, that Brady Bunch lady ain’t got nothing on me.
I grab Eric, lift him in the air as the bell rings again and yank the door open just as my sweet baby boy pees all over me.
“Oh dear Lord,” my guest screeches in horror, forcing my eyes away from my wet t-shirt to the couple standing at my door. The woman is immaculately dressed in linen pants and a deep navy, cowl neck, short sleeve shirt that matches her leather pumps. Her blonde hair perfectly drawn away from her face, fixed in a stylish braid, her face had minimal make-up. She didn’t need make-up, a natural beauty that didn’t ha
ve a wrinkle on her flawless skin. If I had to guess she was in her early fifties and that’s only judging by the man with graying hair that stood beside her, dressed in a three-piece suit.
I was used to the suit thing, my brother had spent most of his life hanging around mobsters dressed just like the man before me, but it was clear this guy wasn’t from that life. No these two people weren’t part of the get rich or die trying lifestyle, they were born wealthy; it was in their DNA.
What I didn’t get was why the hell they were here, looking at me and my son as if we were aliens.
“Can I help you?”
Mrs. Fancy Pants opened her mouth but Mr. Three-Piece Suit was the one who actually spoke.
“We’re looking for Robert Montgomery,” he declares, clearing his throat as he raises an eyebrow at Eric who is picking food out of my hair and flicking it at them.
“Riggs isn’t home,” I reply, swatting Eric’s hand from my hair as I narrow my eyes at the couple. What the hell did he get himself into now?
“Riggs? What is a Riggs?” the woman questions.
The man inches closer to the woman’s ear.
“That’s his alias,” he informs her.
“I’m sorry, who are you people?” I ask gritting my teeth as my son pulls on my hair.
“We’re Robert’s parents and you must be the girl he impregnated. Is this the child?”
I didn’t even have a chance to dwell on the whole impregnated thing as my eyes bulged and threatened to fall from their sockets. Oh my God! These people were Riggs’ parents. Here I was with pee on my shirt, spaghetti in my hair and a naked baby on my hip.
Yeah, their son really struck gold with me.
I was the pick of the litter.
“Oh my God! I’m sorry, please come in,” I say, moving aside and glancing over my shoulder at the apartment. For fuck’s sake it looked like a tornado hit the place. Then I remembered what I looked like, talk about a twister.
They carefully step foot inside the apartment, stepping over toys and whatever else was lying on the floor. I watch as Riggs’ dad stares down at his shoes and my bra that lay beside his fancy loafer.
I shake my head, bending down to snatch the bra and sheepishly smile at my—in laws?
What a nightmare.
I try to balance Eric in my arms as he tries to wiggle free from them, reaching out to his grandparents.
“I’m Lauren,” I say hopelessly, forcing a smile as I glance at Eric and my hope becomes restored. These people came here to meet their grandson, they don’t care about what the house looks like or what I look like for that matter. I smile genuinely as I turn to Riggs’ parents.
“And this little guy is Eric,” I introduce. “Eric, say hi to grandma and grandpa.”
Riggs’ dad coughs or maybe he was choking. I couldn’t be sure but his mother looked as if she was having a stroke. Her whole face turned red like a tomato, and the drop out nurse within surfaced, knowing that was a sure sign of high blood pressure.
“Mr. Montgomery, can I get you a glass of water?”
The man continues to hack up a lung, and I extend my son into his grandmother’s arms.
“Hold him a second while I get him a glass of water,” I insist, placing Eric into her arms and watch as she holds him at arm’s length. “He doesn’t bite,” I add before taking off for the kitchen.
Well, except for that one time when he bit my leg and drew blood. I grab the first cup I see, a Mickey Mouse sippy cup and fill it with water. I didn’t bother screwing on the cap with the crazy straw, something tells me these people are the type who use the fancy crystal my mother only breaks out on holidays.
At that moment, Riggs comes barreling through the front door as I turn around.
“Kitten, I’m home!” He calls, kicking the door closed as he continues to look at something on his phone. “And I’m fucking horny as—” I cringe as the words fly from his mouth and thrust the cup toward Mr. Montgomery, spilling it all over the front of his suit.
“What the ever-living fuck is this?” Riggs stammers.
“Riggs! Language,” I scold, eying our son.
Mrs. Montgomery gasps as she peers over Eric’s shoulder and looks at her son for what I assume is the first time in years.
“What the hell did you do to yourself?” she shrieks.
Riggs pulls his sunglasses off and closes the distance between him and his mother, taking Eric from her before turning toward me.
“Are you off your rocker? Why did you let them in here?”
“You’re covered in tattoos!” His mother declares.
“They’re your parents what was I supposed to do? Slam the door in their face?”
“Yes, absolutely!” He hisses, shifting Eric into his other arm. “Are you okay? They didn’t try to sell you to the highest bidder did they?” he asks our son, examining him thoroughly before looking back and forth between his mother and father.
“Robert,” Mr. Montgomery starts, clearing his throat as he wrings out his suit jacket.
“Riggs, my name is Riggs,” he corrects, gritting his teeth.
“Fine, fine,” the father says, holding up his hands in defeat. “Lenore, stop gawking at his tattoos for heaven’s sake, you are only making matters worse.”
“It gets worse than a Satan tattooed on his arm?” she asks outraged. “Is that why you have an alias, are you part of some devil worshipping cult?”
Riggs turns to me. “I’m sorry, Kitten, but I can’t duck my way out of this one. No, this one deserves a good old fashioned fuck,” he grunts, whipping around to face his mother. “Are you fucking shitting me, lady?”
“Robert, Riggs, whatever the hell you’re calling yourself these days, we didn’t come here to cause any trouble,” Mr. Montgomery explains.
Riggs raises his eyebrows as he stares at his father incredulously before narrowing his eyes and pointing an accusing finger at his father, then his mother, the finger moving back and forth between both parents causing me to become dizzy as I try to follow it.
“Wait a minute,” Riggs says. “Wait just one damn minute. What the hell are you two doing together in the first place?” he turns to his mother. “Shouldn’t you be chasing after, what is it you're up to husband number five?” he asks before diverting his eyes to his father. “And you, how come you’re not off striking oil somewhere in the Gulf or wherever it is you dig holes.”
“Fernando and I didn’t work out and your father doesn’t dig holes. If you paid any kind of mind to his business, maybe you wouldn’t be living like this,” She says, spreading her arms wide as she gestures to our apartment.
Well now, that was just mean. Sure, the apartment looked like it had been ransacked by a pack of ninjas but we had a rambunctious toddler running the show. Didn’t she remember what it was like when Riggs was a baby?
“It’s really not as bad as it looks,” I argue.
“Don’t do that, shit, Lauren,” Riggs interrupts, pinning me with a glare, shaking his head. My eyes widen at the use of my name and not the nickname he was so fond of.
The Tiger meant business.
“We don’t owe these people shit, least of all an explanation as to how we live,” he chastises before turning his glare onto his parents. “Now, you don’t get to show up on my doorstep and ridicule me and my family.”
“Robert if you would just let us speak—”
“Ain’t nothing you say I want to hear,” Riggs seethes as he caresses Eric’s back mindlessly. Eric leans his head against his dad’s chest and starts to calm.
“We don’t even know who you are anymore,” Lenore comments, shaking her head as she shoves a hand at him, letting her eyes travel the length of him. “You look like a street thug, not a Montgomery.”
“Lenore, that’s enough,” Mr. Montgomery shouts.
“You’ve got ten seconds to get the fuck out of my house before this street thug drags your ass down to the gutter,” Riggs threatens.
“I told you we should’ve cal
led,” Mr. Montgomery hisses, grabbing Lenore’s elbow before piercing his son with a look. “We’ll go for now, but we’ll be back. We came here for a reason, son.” He diverts his eyes to mine. “It was nice to meet you, Lisa.”
“Her name is Lauren,” Riggs hisses, grabbing my arm and pulling me to his side. “Get out,” he demands. “And do yourself a favor, forget the reason you came here. Neither of you are welcome in my house or around my son,” he grounds out.
I stare at Riggs’ parents, albeit they were rude and thought the sun shined out of their asses, but they were still his parents, still Eric’s grandparents. I kept my mouth shut and watched Mr. Montgomery’s face fall and Lenore’s remain perfectly frozen in place. She had a hard face, nothing inviting and loving about it and made me thank God for my mother. Maria Bianci was crazy as hell but she would give you the shirt off her back and was always there for me and Anthony. Lenore Montgomery, or whatever her last name was these days, was not the mother you rushed to in your time of need.
I glanced back at Riggs as he kept his eyes trained on the door.
“Out,” he hollers, startling Eric who was falling asleep in his arms.
Mr. Montgomery reaches into his pocket and extends his hand, offering me his business card.
“Lenore and I would like to get to know our grandson,” he explains as I take the card from him. “It was nice to meet you, Lisa,” he adds.
“Lauren, her fucking name is Lauren,” Riggs mutters, taking the card from my hand, before he walks toward the front door and pulls it open.
His parents hesitate a moment before starting for the door. Mr. Montgomery pauses in front of Riggs, lifting his hand to Eric’s head but deciding against it at the last minute.
“He looks just like you,” Mr. Montgomery says before walking out. Riggs slams the door behind them.
I stare intently at Riggs, watching as he takes deep breaths through his nose and releases them through his mouth, mindlessly running his hand gently down Eric’s back.
“Riggs,” I start, not really knowing what to say. We never spoke much about his parents but I knew enough to know they were estranged. Riggs washed his hands of them long ago and never looked back. He took his own detour away from the lifestyle of the rich and famous and found what made him happy. He found the Satan’s Knights and then he found me. Still, watching him interact with the people who brought him into this world, the resentment he harbored toward them so evident, it made me want to peel back the multi-faceted layers of him and discover who he was before the MC, before the name Riggs, when he was simply Robert Montgomery.
The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 168
