Chapter 6
Valerie
“I’ve tried everything I can think of,” I say, keeping my voice low.
Liz, dressed in a flowing, floor-length bridesmaid dress just like the one I’m wearing, is sipping a glass of white wine. Charlie is at her elbow. The two seem to be glued at the hip these days, though they’ve only known each other for a month.
“I still can’t believe this. You, like, never hook up with people. And now, you’re pregnant?” Liz’s voice rises a bit at the end, and I hold my finger to my lips and look around.
It’s only been a day since I found out I’m pregnant, and I’m not yet ready to share my news widely. But when Liz heard me puking in Chrissy’s parents’ bathroom this morning, and was truly concerned, I admitted to her that it was morning sickness.
Now that the ceremony is over, I’m relieved to be talking to Liz so that I don’t have to make excuses for skipping out on the free bar.
“I know,” I say. “I can barely believe it myself. But it’s happening, and I only want to look forwards.”
“You’re sure you want to have this baby?” Liz asks, her voice hushed.
Charlie looks at me, as if waiting for my answer. Man, I wish he wasn’t here. This is so personal. But like I said, I can’t seem to get Liz alone these days.
Chrissy sweeps over to us before I can respond, holding onto two “hers” cocktails. There’s a sprig of lavender poking out of the sides, in-keeping with the lemon-and-lavender theme of the wedding.
“Valerie! Have I mentioned yet that you look gorgeous today? You’re absolutely glowing. Did you get a facial or something and not invite me?” Chrissy gushes.
We hug, and she kisses my cheek. Not waiting for an answer, she goes on to Liz and Charlie. “You guys! I am so glad you’re here to share this day with me. We should call you two Chiz…or Larlie, or something.”
Liz and Charlie crack up at that, and I feel myself scowl. These two met on the same night that Garrett and I met, and when I look at them, I can’t help but feel a little bit jealous. Not that their thing is perfect, but it’s still a harsh reminder of how different my situation is.
I join in on the laughter, but it’s forced.
Chrissy holds out the drinks, and I take mine with a feeling of obligation. I can’t drink it, but I’m definitely not going to refuse it—that would only make her suspicious.
“Val, can you do me a huge favor?” Chrissy says. “There’s a string of lights up around the dance floor that need to be connected to the extension cord coming out from behind the shed. Could you just plug them in?”
I nod, and soon, Chrissy’s off to receive congratulations from another guest.
Immediately, I return to the subject of Garrett. “I’ve tried police departments, because he said he was in criminal justice…”
“When are you going to tell the girls?” Liz asks.
“Soon, I guess. But not on Chrissy’s big day.”
“Good call. Okay, so you tried police departments—what do you mean? You just called them up?”
I nod, remembering the hours I’d spent on the phone the night before. Thank goodness for makeup artists and cover-up, or else the dark circles under my eyes would ruin Chrissy’s wedding photos.
“I asked for officers named Garrett. I also looked up probationary officers, security guards, and correctional officers—he mentioned that he protects people.”
“Hmm…” Liz scrunches up her face, thinking. Then, she gulps down some of her lavender drink. “Maybe he’s in the CIA,” she muses, her eyes growing wide. “Didn’t you say that he was kind of secretive about his job?”
“That’s right, he didn’t want to talk about work,” I say. And neither did I. As it turned out, both of us had been much more interested in doing other things besides talking.
“Or the FBI,” Charlie chimes in. He’s been pretty quiet so far, and the sound of his voice kind of takes me by surprise. Again, I wish that I was just talking to my girlfriend. But I set my resentment aside when Charlie adds, “You know, I have a buddy from Texas U who’s a private detective these days. You could call him and see what he could dig up… Here, I think I have his card.”
“Really?” I ask. That sounds so much more efficient than my haphazard late-night searching. I know that I’ll keep scrolling through social media feeds and web forums, but getting a detective on my side sounds like a wise move.
“That would be great,” I say.
He finds the card in his wallet and hands it to me.
“Thanks, Charlie.” I slip the card into the small, lavender clutch that I have tucked under one arm.
Liz gives Charlie a little squeeze. She leans her head against his arm and beams at me. “Isn’t he the best?” she asks.
I nod, reminding myself to be happy for my friend.
“Oh…” Liz looks up at Charlie. “Should we tell her, honey?”
Honey? When did she start calling Charlie honey? It seems a little bit early for that. But who am I to judge? I’m going to have the child of a man I barely know.
Charlie smiles. “Yes,” he says.
Liz looks back to me. “Val, we have some exciting news of our own. We didn’t want to tell anyone today—like you said, it’s Chrissy’s day and all—but…” she glances back up at Charlie. Still looking at him, she says, “We’re getting engaged. Charlie asked me last night.”
“Liz! That’s amazing!” I wrap my arms around my friend, careful not to spill my still-full drink as I do so. I make sure that I’m smiling as I pull away and congratulate Charlie, too.
Inwardly, I’m struggling to find genuine happiness. She’s only known this guy for a month, I think, as I shake Charlie’s hand. Sure, he’s got a great job and a house and he seems like a good guy, but how well can she really know him? I feel like I want to protect my friend from getting hurt, down the road.
But also, beneath that desire, there’s a more selfish feeling brewing. Liz was my last single friend. All of the other girls in my circle have tied the knot. Liz’s will be yet another wedding that I have to attend alone.
“Where’s the ring?” I ask.
Liz is beaming. “It’s at home. I couldn’t wear it today. Like I said, this is Chrissy’s day. Maybe we could all get together when Chrissy is back from her honeymoon,” she suggests. “We could do brunch, and you could share your news and I’ll share mine!”
My face is frozen in a smile. I’m trying to stay positive here, but it’s hard.
“I better go sort out those lights,” I say instead of answering. I know that the statement sounds odd, and that I’m acting like a total weirdo. But I can’t help it. I back away from the two slowly; the moment is truly awkward.
Before I turn and hightail it away from Liz and Charlie, I see them embrace each other and kiss, my odd behavior totally forgotten.
Chrissy’s parents have set up their backyard for the intimate affair. I almost trip over the dance floor, which has been laid over their manicured lawn. My heels catch the edge, and I have to flap my arms to catch my balance. My clutch drops, and the lavender cocktail splashes over my arm.
Shaken up, I move to an empty table and grab a napkin. Once I’ve cleaned up, I abandon the drink and pick up my clutch. I take out my phone and the card and start composing a message. I know that it’s probably rude to be typing on my phone in the middle of the reception, but I can’t stop myself.
I need to find Garrett. As soon as possible.
I don’t want to go to another wedding alone.
That might sound silly, but it’s the truth. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Beneath it lie all of my fears about raising a child alone. I know that I can do it, if it comes down to that. I will do whatever I have to do to protect this baby, and give him or her the best life that I can. But I don’t want to do it alone.
I glance across the yard towards Liz and Charlie. He’s whispering something in her ear.
I want that. I want companionship, love, a partner. I
want to wear a white gown at my own intimate backyard wedding. I want a little house with a white picket fence, where a puppy can play.
Can I do this alone?
Yes.
Do I want to?
No. Definitely not.
I type my message as fast as I can, listing what I know about Garrett (which is shockingly little) and send it off to the email address on the card.
With this done, I busy myself by plugging in the lights around the dance floor, as Chrissy asked me to do.
The wedding seems to last forever. I’m emotionally drained, nauseous on and off, and sad that I’m alone. On top of that, I can’t drink. Cicero once said, “No one dances while he is sober, unless he happens to be a lunatic,” and it’s my opinion that the guy was on to something. I barely enjoy dancing when I have a few drinks in me, and I find it impossible while I’m stone-cold sober. The only times I’m not shy are when I’ve got a few drinks in me, teaching math…or with Garrett, apparently.
I duck out at half past nine, before the really rowdy dancing begins. I manage to sneak out without being noticed, and I promise myself that I’ll make it up to Chrissy somehow.
Just before drifting off to sleep, I get an email notification. I peer at my phone, hoping that it’s a message from Charlie’s friend. It is, and I read it eagerly.
“Valerie, thanks for getting in touch. I would be happy to accept the job you are proposing, and I will contact you on Monday to discuss the details. Based on the information you’ve sent over so far, I’m sure that I can have results for you within the month.”
His message goes on to discuss his fee, but I’m barely concentrating on the words. Within the month! That would be excellent! I fall asleep, hopeful at last, dreaming about Garrett’s face when he finds out he’s going to be a father.
By the time late November arrives, the hope that I experienced after contacting the private investigator is pretty much gone. He was optimistic, but that didn’t help him dig up any information. After two months of looking, I had to admit that I couldn’t afford to keep paying him. I ended our contract and took matters back into my own hands. Not that I’m any more capable, but at least my hours of searching are free.
I step into the OB/GYN office and the front desk attendant greets me warmly. “Look at you!” she says with a smile. “How are you feeling?”
I smile as best as I can. “Pretty good,” I say, trying to sound bright.
“You’re right on time! In fact, the nurse just came through to say she’s ready for you in exam room two. Let me take you back.”
She ushers me into a small room, and within minutes, I’m with a nurse. This is my second ultrasound, and by now, I’m used to the feel of the cool jelly and the sensation of the wand that she rolls against my abdomen.
The first time, I thought that I’d only have to go to one appointment on my own, while the PI located Garrett for me. I remember thinking, Soon, I won’t have to do this alone.
Now, lying in the reclined chair for the second time, I’m not so sure.
What if I can’t find him?
It’s strange, but a part of me—a tiny sliver—feels relieved at this. Though I’ve been telling myself that the gorgeous stranger I met on that crazy night would be thrilled with the news of a baby, I also know that it might not be the case.
If I never find Garrett, I’ll never have to be disappointed with his reaction.
Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I should stop looking.
“There’s that nice, healthy heartbeat that we like to see,” the nurse says.
Her voice is soothing and gentle. I feel myself relax, just a little bit. She tells me about the fetus’s development, and her steady voice lulls me into a trance.
“Are you ready to know the sex?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
She gives me a kind smile. “You’re going to have a boy, Valerie! A healthy little boy.”
My heart is hammering in my chest. I look up at the screen, to my right, which shows the ultrasound image. I would have never expected that I could feel so much love for a blurry, blobby, black-and-white image on a computer screen. But as I lie there, trying to wrap my head around my uncertain future, I feel myself fall head-over-heels in love.
Even if I never find Garrett, I’m going to have his child.
A healthy little boy.
A son.
Maybe he’ll have wavy brown hair and his father’s dark eyes.
I close my eyes and start to cry. I’m not sure if they’re tears of fear, loneliness, or the overwhelmingly infinite love that I’m experiencing for the first time. The nurse squeezes my hand, and I squeeze it back.
A boy.
I’m going to have a boy.
Chapter 7
Garrett
I type out a text to Clint on my phone, telling him the job is done. I press send, then lean my head back against the rental car’s headrest.
I’m in the motel parking lot. It’s the same motel I stayed in, over a year ago—the last time I was in San Antonio.
I look at the building’s exterior and my mind starts to drift.
Sweetheart.
I remember calling her sweetheart.
I remember the feel of holding her in my arms, after our night together. I remember pressing my lips to the top of her head and kissing her silky blond hair.
Most of all, I remember the way she looked at me.
No one’s looked into my eyes like that before. And no one’s done it since.
I sigh and reach across the compact car’s console. I lift my pack and drag it towards me as I open the door.
It’s October, and much cooler than the last time I was here. The air is a comfortable seventy degrees, yet I’m still soaked in sweat from my work. Killing off civilian criminals is less complicated than the ambush of terrorist cells that I did with the SEALs. But since I’m doing it on my own, it turns out to be just as difficult.
I’d stayed hidden in a closet, in this case, for over six hours before the bad guy returned home. When I came out, he barely knew what hit him. He was dead on the floor before he even saw me.
This time, I knew the dude didn’t have kids. He was too busy with his human trafficking business to raise a family. Motherfucker.
I gave an anonymous tip to the cops and waited outside until I saw them come to the ghetto apartment and free the eight teenage girls that the scumbag had kept in his place.
All in all, the mission was a success, and I feel good about what I’ve done. It’s the same feeling I used to get after capturing enemy fighters.
My body is exhausted from the long drive across the state earlier that day, but I’m too amped-up to go to sleep. I walk into the motel room and set my duffel bag down on the ground. As usual after a job, I strip down and step into my therapist’s office: the shower. I let the hot water run over my body, cleansing me of the kill. Then, I turn the water to freezing cold and stand under it, past the point of enjoyment. The cold-water challenge makes my blood rush and my breathing deepen. When I step out, I feel like a new man.
Sweetheart. I called her sweetheart.
And I wasn’t just saying it. I meant it.
I’ve thought about her so many times, this past year or so. I bring up the mental still shot that I created when leaving her room: her head resting on the pillow, her hair falling against her forehead, the curve of her perfect cheek. Her full, soft lips and her long lashes.
But being here, in this city, is bringing back more than just visuals. I feel the memory of being with her so intensely that I can’t focus on anything else.
I start sifting through my bag. I’m about to reach for clothes that I can sleep in—gym shorts and a tee—but then, my hand moves to a pair of jeans. Lifting them, I get an idea. Maybe I’ll go to the club. The same club where I met her. Maybe, just maybe she’ll be there. Sitting there, at the bar, alone…just like last time.
My rational mind knows that the chances are one in a million, but I li
ft the jeans, anyway, and pull them on.
I dress quickly and head out of the motel, careful as always to wear my helmet so the cameras can’t pick up my face.
My exit from the motel is just like everything else I do—anonymous. I have more fake credit cards and cellphone numbers than I know what to do with. It’s been almost too easy to erase myself from the modern world. Clint supplies me with fake IDs, throw-away phones, and credit cards. For personal transactions, I always pay in cash.
It’s almost as if Garrett Lawson—the identity I was born with—no longer exists. And maybe that’s the reason that I want to run into Valerie again so badly.
She saw me. She looked straight through me. She asked why I was hurting, and then she made me feel better.
It wasn’t just the sex—though, don’t get me wrong, it was the best sex I’ve ever had—it was more than that. It was the feeling of being seen.
I want to hear my name on her lips again. I want to see the look of concern and caring in her eyes. I want to tell her that I’m okay, and mean it.
I travel through the streets of the city without really noticing anything. I’m too deep in thought. By the time I pull up to the club, my hopes are sky-high. She has to be here. It’s Saturday night. That’s got to make my chances better…right?
I cut a straight line to the bar, ignoring the people that stand in my way. My mind is completely focused on getting to the bar, as if she might be sitting there in the same place, just waiting for me.
The place hasn’t changed much over the last fourteen months, but a few things are different. I notice that the staff behind the bar has changed. The busty brunette isn’t behind the bar, ready to lean over the counter and display her cleavage to me, like the last time. Instead, I see a model-thin woman with sharp features and a dude who looks like he spends every minute that he’s not making drinks in the gym, working on his pecs.
I scan the faces of customers waiting for drinks.
Secret Daddy Surprise - A Secret Baby Romance (Once a SEAL, Always a SEAL Book 4) Page 5
