Say You Want Me

by Corinne Michaels

  Say You Want Me

  Copyright © 2016 Corinne Michaels

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-1-942834-20-5

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written consent of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or publisher.

  Editor:

  Ashley Williams, AW Editing

  Proofreading:

  Kara Hildebrand

  Janice Owen

  Interior Design & Formatting:

  Christine Borgford, Perfectly Publishable

  www.perfectlypublishable.com

  Cover Design:

  Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  www.okaycreations.com

  Cover photo © Embry Allen Lopez

  www.embrylopez.com

  Table of Contents

  Say You Want Me

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Letter to the Reader

  Books by Corinne Michaels

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  To the creators of Netflix, I blame you for my unproductive days when I’m on deadline. We should break up, but I can’t seem to do it. You’re welcome.

  “Jump, and you will find out how to unfold your wings as you fall.”—Ray Bradbury

  “HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN feeling like this, Angie?”

  Long enough for me to finally get my butt here.

  I hate doctors. Motivating me to finally go to see someone is like getting a bill through Congress. I’m stubborn, but more than that . . . I’m scared. My two cousins battled cancer in their early thirties, and my mom is an ovarian cancer survivor. Each time I have to go for a checkup, I end up convincing myself I’ll be next.

  It’s crazy and irrational, but it’s a genuine fear of mine. I remember the hell they all went through.

  “I don’t know. A few months . . .” I got a crazy cold when I got back from visiting my sister-in-law, Presley, two months ago. Her now fiancé asked me to come when he knew he was going to propose. Even with my deep hatred of flying, I went. I knew it meant a lot to her and my insanely amazing nephews. Although, I never need an excuse to go see them. Cayden and Logan are the closest things I’ll ever have to kids. I spoil the crap out of them, and hate that I barely see them now.

  But my brother made that my reality when he chose to leave this world two years ago.

  “What other symptoms do you have?” the older doctor asks me.

  I pull my long blonde ponytail to the side and start to play with it as I run through the laundry list of ailments. He doesn’t need to hear about how Presley threatened to kill me herself if I didn’t get checked, so I leave it out. It’s all minor stuff, but it’s affecting the way I live. This week was the worst. I went from vomiting to feeling like I was going to die. I’d had enough.

  “Let’s do some blood work, get a urine sample, and see what the results bring. In the meantime, I’m going to look you over.”

  The exam doesn’t last long, but since I’m very tender, I spend the few minutes debating whether to kick him as he hems and haws. I hate when doctors do that. Either clue me in or shut up. It’s annoying. He finishes looking at everything, and the nurse enters with the vials to collect blood.

  Great.

  The second most dreaded thing.

  “Hi, Angie.” The nurse smiles. “I’m Nicole, and I’ll be drawing some blood.”

  I return her smile and nod.

  “If I remember correctly, you own For Cup’s Cake?” she asks.

  “I do.” I can’t help but grin. I love my cupcake store, which is thriving like crazy lately. One of the local news channels stopped in about six months ago, ran a big story on it, and it changed my world. I’ve brought in a new partner to help with all the adjustments, and we’re talking about opening a second location. Never in a million years did I think that it would be like this.

  Presley and I had an idea that we should open the store, thinking that maybe it would give her something to do while Todd worked insane hours as a finance guru. It seemed like fun. And it was. Until Todd’s suicide wrecked everything we had built. The store was barely four months old, the company had no money, and Presley lost everything.

  I bought her out, even though the business was worth next to nothing, and she left for Tennessee.

  “I love it there,” Nicole admits. “My dress size doesn’t, but everything is so good. And different. How do you stay so thin?”

  I snort. “I wish you could see how much I weighed before the store. I’ve put on a good amount. I can’t seem to help myself with the tasting.”

  “Well, I can’t blame you.” She focuses on filling the vials.

  Huh. I didn’t even realize she pricked me.

  “Our head baker is amazing. And she doesn’t tell me or my partner, Erin, what the next day’s flavors will be. It used to drive me insane. Now it’s kind of fun. We go into work and she’s already redecorated the menu with the flavors of the day.”

  We chat a little more before Nicole puts the bandage around my arm and leaves.

  I grab my phone and text Presley.

  Me: I hate the damn doctor.

  Presley: Stop being a baby. You probably just need an antibiotic because you refused to go a month ago. Not everything is fixable with Motrin.

  Me: Whatever. I just remember this is how Mom started. One minute, she was run down, and the next, it was cancer.

  I sigh and fight back the tears. I was fifteen and remember each time she came back from chemotherapy. She was sick, tired, and literally pumped with poison. She had that look in her eyes when she’d glance at me or my brothers. It was a single moment, but it said so much about the reason she kept fighting. Until her fight was over. Then she no longer held the affection I once saw.

  I don’t want to ever be like her. I don’t have anything to fight for.

  Presley: No matter what the doctor says, you have me.

  Me: In freaking Tennessee!

  Presley: I have a spare bedroom.

  Me: Over my dead body!

  No freaking way am I going to Tennessee. She’d have to drug me to get me to live there. I love Presley, but it’s not for me. It’s gorgeous and has picturesque landscapes and beautiful homes. But the main reason I won’t move there is because there are no Starbucks. The second, which is an equally compelling reason, is named Wyatt Hennington. His Southern drawl, insanely tight ass, and honey colored eyes turn me into a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl. I clearly have no self-control when it comes to him. What my best friend doesn’t know is that it wasn’t just the one tim
e that I found myself in his bed. No, I’m the idiot who went back for round two, only to have it end awkwardly.

  Presley: Bet Wyatt would let you use his bedroom.

  I roll my eyes. She’s like a damn Yenta trying to marry me off.

  Me: No. I’m back with Nate.

  Presley: Since when?

  Ohh, like this morning when he called and asked me to dinner. Maybe this will get her to stop pushing Wyatt.

  Me: It’s very recent. You never know, we could hit it off this time.

  Presley: Right. The last time worked out sooo well. He’s not your type.

  Me: He’s a good guy. We go out to the same places, and neither of us like eating alone.

  Presley: Oh, please. You don’t even like him!

  It’s true. I don’t like him enough to ever marry him, and he’s god awful in bed, which is why we’re not ever going there again. But he’s sweet, likes the same restaurants as I do, and we get along. He’s a cardiologist at the Children’s Hospital and works insane hours. So, we only see each other sporadically.

  It works for us.

  Presley: And they say romance is dead. Are you sleeping with him?

  Me: Nope. I’m trying out this whole celibacy thing.

  Presley: That’s comical. Looks like Wyatt ruined you, huh?

  Me: He wishes! It was good but not great.

  I’m so full of shit. It wasn’t just good. No, it was the absolute, hands down, most un-freaking-believable sex I’d ever had. The kind that ruined me for all eternity. Where any man who even comes near me won’t hold a candle to the things that man did to my body. He played me as if I were his personal instrument. Every touch, every kiss, every swipe of his glorious tongue was done just to please me. I don’t know how I managed to walk out of there. He rocked my world and then was gone before I woke.

  Not all of us have these epic love stories like Presley does. She fell in love with Zachary Hennington when she was still in the womb, I swear. They were kids, figured out they were each other’s lobsters, got engaged before college, and then broke up when Zach got a chance to play pro baseball. He took a contract and left Pres without a backward glance. That was when she met my brother. Todd loved her the minute he laid eyes on her. I threatened to disown him if he thought about it. I was not about to lose my best friend because my brother somehow screwed up. Regardless of my threats, which I thought were very convincing, they ended up married with twins.

  Then Todd destroyed everything.

  I still haven’t forgiven him for committing suicide, and I hate myself for that, but now I have a void in my heart that won’t ever be fixed because of what he did. He was my best friend and he took himself away without any answers.

  My phone buzzes after a few minutes.

  Presley: Sorry, I had to help Zach. I love you, Ang. You’re going to be fine. I’ll be waiting for your call.

  Me: Love you more. I’ll call with the fated news.

  Presley: Dramatic.

  I giggle as I hear a knock on the door.

  “All right, Angie. I ran a quick test to check your iron, which is a little low, but easily fixable. Your sugar levels are fine, and we’ll send the rest of your blood work out. However, that’s not what has you as sick as you’ve been.” He looks up, and I freeze.

  Tears form as I know the news he’s about to deliver. “You found something in my blood or is there something else?” The muscles in my body clench as I try to smother the fear that’s choking me. “Something abnormal?”

  The doctor steps forward with a warm smile on his face. “Relax, Angie.”

  “Please,” I plead. “Please just say it!”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  My jaw gapes as I try to reconcile the words he spoke. “What?”

  “You’re pregnant,” he repeats.

  No.

  No, no, no. Nope. I refuse. I can’t be pregnant. I’ve only had sex with one person in the last six months. Jesus Christ.

  I shake my head back and forth trying to unhear the words. “I had my period!” I finally shriek. “Last month! I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t had sex with anyone in months! The test is confused. You’re confused.”

  If there’s anyone in this world that shouldn’t be allowed to have kids—it’s me. I’ve killed plants, countless goldfish, my cat ran away, and I have never had that internal clock ticking thing.

  The doctor places his hand on my arm. “It’s not abnormal to have a period or two. But I checked it twice. You are pregnant. Congratulations.”

  The doctor pats my leg and leaves the room. Oh my God.

  I don’t even know what to think. I can’t be pregnant. I mean, I guess I am, but this is not okay. Not even a little bit.

  I’m not supposed to be in my mid-thirties and pregnant. This isn’t part of the plan.

  Presley: Don’t forget to call me when you know something.

  I glance at my phone and try to figure out what to say. I guess this would be better in person, plus I need to tell Wyatt. Fuck my life. With shaky fingers, I send out a text.

  Me: Looks like I’m coming to Bell Buckle. Might want to make up the bed in your spare room.

  “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE CAPTAIN has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. We are now crossing a zone of turbulence. Please return to your seat and keep your seat belt fastened.”

  I cinch the belt so hard that I’m positive I’m going to pass out, then I loosen it as I worry it might hurt the baby. I hate flying. I hate being suspended in the air when, clearly, that is not how humans are meant to be. I’m in a tube of death.

  Calm down, Angie. You can do this. It’s no scarier than finding out you were pregnant forty-eight hours ago.

  “You okay, darlin’?” A nice man with a large cowboy hat resting on his knee asks.

  I nod because I can’t find my voice. My throat is dry and I’m pretty sure my face must resemble Casper’s.

  “You don’t look okay.” His drawl becomes deeper with concern. “You ain’t gonna pass out on me, are you?”

  “No.” I give him a tight-lipped smile. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  Understatement of the year. After leaving the doctor’s office, I took three home pregnancy tests because I truly thought the doctor was wrong. He wasn’t. So, I preceded to eat a gallon of Breyers ice cream. This at least explains the other week when I burst into tears while I was watching Something About Mary, though. I couldn’t figure out what had me so upset, but there I was . . . bawling. No wonder, I’m a hormonal lunatic.

  I’ve never been more freaked out than I am now. I’m not sure how the hell I’m going to do this. Any of it. First, I have to tell Wyatt, which is the point of this trip. Do I blurt it out? Do I get him a hat that reads: Daddy across the front? Maybe I should say, “Hey, partner . . . we’re gonna have a kid and we’re both almost forty, so get your walker ready for the high school graduation.” Not that he talks like that, but whatever. I don’t know how he’ll react, but the truth of the matter is—we’re having a baby, which makes me want to cry.

  Then I have to figure out how I’m going to be a single mom. I’ve never been more grateful for Erin right now. As soon as I told her about the baby, she immediately told me to take a few days off, and handle coming to Tennessee. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

  “I understand that,” the very handsome stranger says. “Are you visiting family?”

  “Yes. I’m going to see my sister and my nephews.” And the father of my kid. “They live in a tiny town somewhere in Tennessee,” I explain.

  “There’s a lot of those.” He chuckles. “Are you from Philly or just passin’ through?”

  “No, I live there. I have for almost twenty years now.”

  “I spent a week there, interesting place. I’ve been a Southern boy my whole life. I don’t travel much, but my brother got himself a job outside the city, so I helped him move.” My heart starts to fall back into rhythm as he tells me his story. “It’s definitely nothing like Nashville, that’s for sure.�
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  I giggle. “I’m sure it’s not. We do have Starbucks, though.”

  We talk a little more and then the plane lands without incident. Now is when the real shit starts. I’m going to walk off and come face to face with my sister and best friend. I’m going to have to admit what’s wrong and why I’m here. It won’t be my secret.

  It will be the truth.

  It all begins now.

  “Thanks for keeping me calm,” I say to the cute cowboy.

  “It’s not every day that I get to save a beautiful lady.”

  When the door to the plane opens, he grabs his bag from the overhead bin, and I realize something.

  “You know,” I say as he starts to walk off, “you never mentioned your name.”

  He smiles, extends his hand, and tips his hat. “My name is Wyatt.”

  Of course it is.

  I disembark the plane and head to the baggage area. I need Presley to tell me this is going to be okay, because I’m freaking the fuck out.

  Each year that passes, my desire for a family dwindles. The men I’ve dated look great on paper, but they end up not being what I need. They’re selfish, narcissistic, and I’ve never gotten close to being in a committed relationship. There was the one guy after college, but we dated for six months before I overheard him saying he was screwing someone else, so I dumped him. After that, it was random dates with casual sex.

  I’ve lived all of my thirty-six years content with being the friend who never marries—the eternal bridesmaid and never the bride. It works for me. I like to know I can go where I want, when I want. But now my days of being unhitched to anything are long gone.

  All because of one crazy amazing sexfest.

  “Ang!” I hear my best friend call out as she rushes toward me. “I’m so sorry I’m late!”

  Tears begin to form at the sound of her voice, and the second her arms enclose around me, a sob breaks free. Her touch unleashes the flood of emotions I managed to keep in check through my drive home from the doctor, the mindless packing, and the flight. Now though, I can’t stop them.

  “Angie? What’s wrong?” She pulls back and looks in my eyes.