by S. M. Shade
Running my palm across my face, I sigh. “I do care about her. I’ll keep a closer eye. Thanks for calling.”
She hangs up without a goodbye. That woman really dislikes me, but I’m glad Melissa has her on her side.
Chapter Nine
Melissa
“Yoo hoo, it’s me and I brought a friend!” Agnes calls out as she walks through my front door. I hear it close behind her before her smiling face pops around the corner of my bedroom doorway. “Good, you’re following the doctor’s orders.”
Agnes has such good timing. She and Amos have settled into their condo in Florida, but they returned this week to attend Amos’s granddaughter’s wedding. We had plans to meet for dinner, but the baby had other ideas.
“It’s been a whole day and I’m already going crazy,” I laugh. The last two days were scary. I came close to losing the baby, but he pulled through. The doctors said it’s not terribly uncommon, and they’re hopeful I can still carry to term. “Thanks for coming. I’m going to hire someone to get groceries and stuff, maybe the kid who helped with the yard sale.”
“He’s back at school, but no worries. I found someone who absolutely insists on helping.”
A rough “humph” tells me she’s full of it. Frowning, she turns to grab someone, and a second later Jeremy stands in my room, a smirk on his face.
“Nice pajamas.”
Woody eyes him from his spot at my feet, but he’s at least stopped growling every time he comes near me.
Ignoring him, I regard Agnes. “Have you gone senile? Seriously, should I be worried?”
“He lives right next door, and from what I can tell, contributes little or nothing to society. I asked him if he could spare a little time, and he agreed.”
Ouch, Agnes. I know she thinks the baby is his, and that’s why she detests him, so it’s time to set her straight. “Jeremy, can you give us a minute?”
Before he can step out of the room, she hands him a list. “Here are the basics she needs right now.”
Jeremy takes it and nods. “I’ll be back.”
As soon as I hear the door close behind him, I tap the edge of the bed. Agnes sits, and I look her in the eye. “I know you’re trying to help, and I love you for it, but this isn’t his responsibility. The baby isn’t his. I was with a man just before you met me. He’s dead now, and that’s all I’ll say about him, but he was the father. Not Jeremy.”
Her face fills with doubt. “How can you be sure? That close together?”
“Because I didn’t sleep with Jeremy.”
Her eyebrows jump up. “Excuse me?”
“I spent the night, but he was too drunk. We didn’t have sex.”
“I-oh my-oh Melissa. I’m so sorry.”
I lay my hand on her arm. “You don’t need to be sorry for anything.”
“You don’t understand. When you first told me, and I mentioned him, and you didn’t deny it, I thought you just didn’t want him to know and.” She sighs. “I was worried about you and pissed he wasn’t doing his part so I confronted him. I told him you were carrying his child.”
Confused, I shake my head. “But, he knows we didn’t…how could he believe the baby is his?”
Excusing herself for a moment, she leaves and returns with a glass of water for her and juice for me. I swear she thinks babies require a ton of fruit.
“You said he was drunk. How drunk? Could he assume you slept together?”
Oh no. I think back to his reaction the next morning. It was strange for him to freak out over something that didn’t happen. I assumed he was embarrassed at his whiskey dick failure and taking it out on me. Does he actually think this kid is his? Oh God. The birthing and baby care class. That’s why he went. The way he touched my stomach, the unexpected awe and joy on his face.
“Oh god. That’s why he’s been hanging around and fixing stuff. He feels responsible. I have to tell him.”
“I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to add to your stress right now.”
“I’m okay. It actually explains a lot. But I can’t have him taking care of me now. I’ll tell him when he gets back. I can call a home health care service and see if they can recommend someone to help me with errands and stuff.”
Agnes hugs me. “Let me know. I can’t leave without knowing you’re okay.”
“I will. Now, get out of here. I’ll be fine until Jeremy gets back. I know you and Amos have stuff to do.”
“Call if you need anything. I mean it.”
“I promise.”
Once I’m alone and the house is quiet, I try to wrap my head around what I’ve just learned. I’ve been confused at the way Jeremy seems to keep his distance from me and care about me at the same time. Now, it makes sense. He cared about the baby. As soon as he knows the truth, that will be the end of all the house repairs and baby classes.
That’s not what’s bothering me, though. I can pay for my own repairs and chances are I won’t be going back to the classes now anyway. The truth is I like having him around. Even though he can be a major dick sometimes, there’s just something about him that draws me in, and it’s not just his good looks or lickable body. It’s always been my weakness, being drawn to bad boys, but really, how bad is he? He doesn’t seem to do much other than work on his house or mine. He’s so uptight that when he does let his guard down and relax a bit, it’s very endearing.
Maybe it’s only the mystery of him I’m attracted to, but it doesn’t feel like it. Yes, I want to know what thoughts go through his surly brain. I want to know him better. Mostly, I just don’t want to lose one of the only two friends I have, though I know he wouldn’t consider himself a friend.
Friend, yeah. The last few weeks he hasn’t been around much, and I notice there are even some nights he doesn’t come home. I try to lie to myself that I don’t care if he’s seeing someone, but the jealousy is real.
Gah, maybe I’m crazy, but the thought of telling him a truth I know will just release him from his perceived responsibility sends a wave of sadness through me. I’m totally going to blame the hormones for the brief urge I have not to tell him, to just let him keep believing the baby is his.
I’m not that type of person though. He’s already struggling after losing someone he loves, and I’m sure guilt has played a huge part in the things he’s done for me. I can’t let that continue.
Damn it. I hate this.
Lying back on the bed, I take a few minutes to wallow in my misery and feel sorry for myself before I try to put things in perspective.
Yes, I’m pregnant and alone.
Yes, I’m scared and lonely.
But I’m also free, which is miles ahead of where I’ve been in the past. I’m free to make my own way and follow my own rules. I can also raise my baby the way I was. With unconditional love and support. My mother died when I was a baby, but my father was always there for me, and while Kelly and I fought like most sisters, we were still close.
After all, I’m not really alone. I have my baby.
The pep talk I give myself seems to help. I swear, my emotions are all over the place. Apparently, hormones make me insane. But by the time Jeremy returns, I’ve got myself under control.
“What are you doing out of bed?” he demands as he strides through the door, laden with bags.
“I’m supposed to stay immobile as much as possible. I can relax on the couch. I’m just not supposed to be on my feet for longer than it takes to walk to the restroom.”
I’m rewarded with a grunt as he puts away the groceries. He returns to the living room, and I hand him a check for the groceries. “Keep it,” he mumbles, looking around. “Do you need anything else?”
Any social skills I’ve ever learned seem to have flown out the window when I blurt, “It’s not your baby.”
It takes a second for my words to sink in, then he whirls around to face me. “What did you say?”
“I’m not pregnant with your baby. Agnes just told me that she made you think it was yours. I m
ean, she thought it was, but I didn’t tell her it was.” Fuck. I’m babbling. “I didn’t know you thought it was your baby or I would’ve told you from the beginning.”
His chest rises and falls with a deep sigh. “You can’t know for sure. The timing has to be close, doesn’t it?”
“Jeremy, I’m twenty weeks. We hadn’t even met yet. What do you remember about the night I spent at your house?”
His lips press together. “Not a damn thing. I don’t remember being in the bedroom. Or us fucking.”
“That’s because we didn’t.”
The shock on his face would be comical under different circumstances. “What?”
“We made out and…touched each other, but when we tried to fuck, you couldn’t keep it up. Whiskey does that sometimes, you know. We were both trashed, so we just fell asleep.”
“Naked.” He gets to his feet and runs both hands through his hair.
“Yes. You were so eager to get rid of me the next morning, I didn’t realize you didn’t remember.”
Pacing, he says, “I’m not going to be a father.” It’s like he just needs to hear the words aloud to believe them.
“No, you’re not. I really do appreciate everything you’ve done around here, but if I’d known that was why you were doing it, I would’ve told you. I wasn’t trying to take advantage.”
A snort of disbelief leaps from him. “You’ve fought me every step of the way. You obviously weren’t taking advantage.”
“Anyway, I set Agnes straight, so she won’t be bothering you anymore. I’m going to contact a service tomorrow to get help for the next few months until the baby comes. Then probably a nanny service for the first few weeks after he’s born, so you’re off the hook. We’ll be fine.”
“He?” His gaze burns into mine. “It’s a boy?”
“Yes. When I started cramping and bleeding, they did an ultrasound. He wasn’t shy about flashing us.” I smile, remembering the joy I felt. Who knew a tiny penis could make a person so happy?
He doesn’t come off as particularly relieved, but I guess he’s overwhelmed. Anyone would be. After a moment, he picks my phone up from the coffee table, adds himself as a contact, then sets it back down.
He doesn’t look at me as he says, “I’m still your neighbor. Call me if you need anything.”
With that, he stalks out the door.
What the hell am I supposed to make of that?
#
The sound of the door opening wakes me, and I look around, confused for a moment. Exhaustion took over after Jeremy left, and I fell asleep on the couch. I must’ve slept the whole night through.
Jeremy stands in front of me, frowning. “Your door was unlocked.”
“I see that.” My back gives a satisfying crack when I stretch and get to my feet.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to pee. I’ll be right back.”
I feel a dull pain in my stomach when I stand up, but it fades by the time I get to the bathroom. After relieving my screaming bladder, I brush my teeth, put some deodorant on, tie up my hair, and change into clean clothes. I feel a little more like a person when I return to the living room.
Jeremy sits in the recliner, and I spot a box of donuts on the coffee table. “The doctors want you to gain weight, right?” he says, nodding toward the box.
“Yeah, I swear I eat like a pig, but it just doesn’t stick.” I grab an iced donut and take a big bite. Mmm, he’s my favorite person at the moment.
He goes into the kitchen and returns with two glasses of orange juice. “You do remember our conversation from yesterday?” I ask as he hands me one.
A smirk lifts his lips, and he sits back down. “Yeah, I remember. I haven’t gotten drunk since that night.”
“Thanks for this, but…I’m kind of confused about what’s going on here.”
He leans back in the chair, propping his foot on his knee. “You’re alone and I don’t like it.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. Okay then.
“And I figured you’d like some donuts.”
Munching on my unexpected breakfast, I chuckle. “But you don’t like me.”
“You’re not too bad.” There’s a twinkle in his eye I haven’t noticed before. He’s teasing me.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment. And you’re surprisingly thoughtful for an asshole.”
A smile breaks across his face. “Thoughtful asshole. Sounds about right.”
A knock at the door has him on his feet. “Are you expecting someone?”
I completely forgot they were coming from the gallery for my paintings. “Yeah.”
He answers the door and his jaw hardens at the sight of the two young men. “She’s not well. It’s not a good time.”
What the?
“Come in,” I call, and they walk into the living room.
“I’m sorry. I forgot you were coming today. The paintings are in the first room on the right, all wrapped up and ready to go.”
“Yes ma’am,” one of them replies. They skip the small talk and hastily load up my work.
“Tell Penelope I’ll be in touch. I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to attend the show. I’ll have to ask my doctor.”
“I’ll let her know.”
Jeremy sits down across from me. “You’re having a show?”
“Yeah, next month. I was supposed to make an appearance. Do a meet and greet, stuff like that, but it looks like I’ll have to cancel.” I’m glad I was able to finish the paintings that are being featured at least. Once Jeremy started spending more time away, my emotions were all over the place, and I threw it into my art.
He nudges the box of donuts toward me. “Have another.”
“Maybe later.”
Woody pads over and sits at his feet, begging. “Oh, now you want to be my friend, huh?” Jeremy breaks a donut in half and Woody takes it from his hand.
“He’s like you, tamed by food.”
Getting to his feet, he runs his hands through his hair again. “I’ll be back before seven with dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can still take care of myself. I have lunch meat and frozen meals in the fridge.”
“Dark and Unsolved is on at seven. See you then.” He makes a beeline out the front door, and leaves me staring after him, wondering what the hell to think.
My day is long and boring. I make a some phone calls and find a service to help me with a few errands here and there. I don’t need a nurse, just someone to go to the store or pharmacy for me occasionally.
For the first time in my life, I also need to gain weight, so I’m not worried about getting takeout or pizza often. I may as well take advantage of being able to eat whatever I want.
Moving carefully, I grab a few pillows from my bed, my tablet and phone, and both chargers. I place a basket on the floor that holds my sketchpad, pencils, and a few other art supplies. A few minutes later, I’ve successfully built myself a little nest on the couch, and the only thing I’ll need to get up for is the bathroom. I’m in for a long day of binge watching, so I choose a popular vampire romance I’ve always meant to watch and settle in.
It’s a great show, but there’s only one problem. It’s sexy, and I’m horny as hell. I got up the guts to ask the way too cute doctor about self-administered orgasms—his term, not mine—before I left the hospital. The rule is no penetration or sex because I’m not supposed to exert myself, but as long as I don’t have any cramps or contractions, an orgasm every now and then is fine. It’s a good thing because if I’m going to be chained to the damn couch I’ll need to relieve some stress.
My sweat pants make it easy enough to take care of myself. Closing my eyes, I picture one of the sexy scenes I just watched, but it just isn’t getting me there. Jeremy’s face flashes in my mind, wearing that little smirk I want to kiss. Screw it. He’s in the rub club now. He’ll never know. I remember the way the sweat glistened on his chest when he was working on my steps, and the
way he smelled when he came inside. Like sawdust and masculinity. With a little fantasy of his dark head between my legs, it barely takes me a minute before the sweet release washes over me.
Feeling so much better, I lie back and start the next episode.
It’s going to be a long nineteen weeks.
#
Jeremy has visited me every day for three weeks. He leaves late at night and every morning I get a text asking if I want breakfast. I usually say no. He’s been so great, and I don’t want to take advantage. He returns early in the evening and we watch TV, play cards, or talk until after midnight.
Neither of us have a job that requires us to be up at any particular time, and since my whole world consists of this house right now, it doesn’t matter when I sleep.
This time when he enters, he’s carrying two bags of Chinese food. He plops them on the table and frowns down at me. “Your door was unlocked again. Do you want to be murdered in your sleep?”
“Not particularly. I’d prefer it to being murdered while I’m awake, though.” His lips twitch as I dig into the bags, and munch on an egg roll. “I just unlock it when I get up to pee, so I won’t have to when you get here.”
He takes a seat beside me while I sift through the junk drawer in the coffee table. “Here,” I announce, handing him my extra house key. “You can lock it on your way out and get in without discovering my bloody corpse.”
He blinks, and hesitates a second before accepting it and adding it to his key ring. “You aren’t funny.”
“Ha! I’m hilarious. You just haven’t quite pulled that stick out of your ass far enough to appreciate my wonderful personality.” He snatches the box of noodles from my hand as I’m talking and shovels in a mouthful. “You’re getting better though.”
A pensive expression crosses his face. “I am getting better.”
My voice softens when I reply, “It takes time.”
We’ve gotten to know each other much better, but the subject of his ex is off limits, as is the story of my past. He knows the person I am now, not who I was, and I guess the same is true for my knowledge of him.
