Sweet Trouble

by Sasha Gold

  The sound of a zipper draws me from my fretful thoughts, and I open my eyes just as Nick picks me up.

  He looks down at me, his grey eyes cold and angry. “Don’t scream.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Nick

  Owning several roofing companies is rewarding. In my early twenties, just out of prison with nothing more than a few tools and a work ethic, I started my first business. I put in long hours and did the work of three men. By the time I was twenty-eight, I was netting a quarter of a million a year. At thirty-two it’s twice that.

  Not bad for a felon.

  One of the perks is that over the years, I’ve done favors for a few people. One of them is Judge Harding. People call him Judge Hard Ass. While the man is a son of a bitch in the courtroom, he’s a teddy bear everywhere else. He presided over my case and sent me to prison, but he intervened when new evidence turned up. The man who put me behind bars is going to marry me and Bailey. Life changes. That’s for sure.

  As I drive down his long, tree-lined driveway, the house comes into view. The metal roof glints in the afternoon sunshine.

  “Now that’s a fine roof,” I say.

  Bailey’s not saying a word and hasn’t the entire four hours it took to drive from Leandro to Fulton. The trip took five times longer than it should have because we had to backtrack a few times to avoid washed out roads, but we’re here now and Harding is ready for us. He stands in his doorway, waving. His wife stands beside him with a big smile on her face.

  I can tell she loves weddings the way Gran and Olivia and just about every female does. Too bad this isn’t going to be one of those weddings. I pat my pocket and feel the outline of the ring I bought this morning. I have no idea if it will fit but at least I have one to put on her finger. Platinum band. Oval diamond. Four carets.

  Bailey glances at me. Her expression is taut. Wary.

  I get out, circle the truck and open her door.

  “Bailey,” I say quietly. “If something happens like you get sick or hurt who would talk to the doctors?”

  She shakes her head, staring at me in bewilderment.

  “Sydney?” I ask.

  “No.” Her voice is small and she looks a little offended by my questions.

  “Your mother?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s see, she’s in California. Am I right?”

  “Yes…”

  “And she’s not exactly crazy about you being pregnant. Right?”

  She draws a sharp breath that sounds almost painful. Her shoulders heave and her eyes fill with tears. “No. She isn’t.”

  I lower my voice. “So, that means you have no one.”

  A few tears spill and roll down her face. She swipes them away looking at me with pure fury.

  “And if you have no one, the baby has no one.”

  She squeezes her lids shut and presses the palms of her hands against her eyes.

  “Which is why the two of us are going into this nice man’s house and we’re going to say our vows.”

  She’s shaking her head and her breathing is coming faster, like she’s sobbing.

  “I don’t want to do that,” she whispers.

  I wait, glance back at the Judge and Mrs. Harding who have the good manners to act like they’re chatting about something terribly interesting and not witnessing a couple having a fight. I sigh. Wait till they see my bride, barefooted in mismatched pajamas with a tousled bed-head.

  I should give her a moment to change into something a little prettier, but I don’t want to give her time to think about any of this. I don’t know how close I came to losing her. If Olivia hadn’t said anything, I might never have known about the baby. Bailey might have done a disappearing act on me. The idea makes me sick to my stomach.

  Turning back to her, I speak with more force, because I need to fast-track this thing. “You don’t want to get married? Well, tough shit, Bailey. It’s a little late for thinking about what you want and don’t want. We’re going to do this. Right here. Right now. Because that’s what needs to happen for the sake of our baby.”

  “Olivia told me what you did to David Voss,” she throws the words in my face. “That you wanted to destroy the family.”

  I knew this was coming. Olivia tried to explain my behavior and my past to Bailey, the last person I wanted her to talk to. She tried to make things better with a little my-brother’s-not-that-bad explanation. Olivia would never in a hundred years imagine that Bailey had been the girl I’d called her about at one in the morning, a few weeks back. That stormy night seems so long ago.

  Lifting her chin, I coax her to meet my gaze. “Bailey,” I soften my voice as much as I can. “All I want to do is take care of you.”

  She doesn’t say anything for a long moment but I think I see her relenting.

  “Baby, you fainted.”

  She actually flinches when I say that.

  “I’m doing this because it’s important to me. The baby’s important to me. You’re important to me.”

  She searches my face like she thinks I’m bullshitting. I don’t say another word. There’s nothing more I can offer but those simple words. The final decision is hers to make.

  “Okay,” she sniffles. She wipes her face with her sleeve and glares at me. “I’ll marry you.”

  Thank fuck. I take her hand and pull her from the truck. I’ve got to get her inside before she changes her mind.

  Judge Harding doesn’t bat an eye when we walk up the steps. A hint of surprise flits across Mrs. Harding’s eyes but she’s nothing but warmth and smiles for my tearful bride. The whole county is filled with emergency response teams, helping families who lost homes. The Harding’s probably assume she’s a flood victim. I didn’t give them a lot of information. Just that I’d gotten a girl in trouble and needed to do right by her.

  They usher us into the den. The judge has his secretary there with the paperwork and Bailey signs without a word.

  “I thought saying your vows over by the fireplace would be nice. What do you think, dear?” Mrs. Harding asks Bailey.

  Bailey doesn’t answer. She just shrugs like a sulky, little teenager. Which, at barely twenty, she practically is.

  “That’s perfect,” I say.

  She scowls, but follows me over to the fireplace. I turn her to face me and take her other hand in mine. The last thing she wants to do is clasp hands and look into each other’s eyes, but it’s just for a few minutes. Judge Harding takes out a book and begins the vows.

  Bailey looks up at me with her tear-stained face, her lips tightly pursed. Hostility radiates off her. I can hardly wait to kiss that mouth. She’ll probably sink her teeth into my lips. For some reason, that makes my cock harden. Even more. I’ve been suffering in a state of semi-arousal since I walked into her shitty hotel room. But I’m pretty sure Bailey and me aren’t going to be burning up the bedsheets on our wedding night.

  There’s a lull in the vows and I snap out of my thoughts.

  Mrs. Harding is beaming at me. She prompts me with a whispered, “I do.”

  “I do,” I say quickly.

  Then Harding says the part for Bailey. Half-way through, she jerks her head to look at him. “I’m not obeying him. Take that part out.”

  Harding’s brows shoot up and he sighs. The wife murmurs a few words of dismay. Bailey gives me a look like she’s daring me to insist. I don’t say a word, and the judge proceeds, reciting the vows without the offending words. And when he pauses, she parts her lips to speak but draws a shaky breath instead. I press her hands and wait.

  “Nick…” she breathes my name so softly I wonder if I heard it at all. Her eyes fill with tears once more and she blinks, trying to keep from crying.

  Finally, after what feels like forever, she whispers, “I do.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Bailey

  I wake up in Nick’s bed. Alone. The room is filled with what looks like late-morning sunshine. When I roll over and look at my phone I see that it�
�s only nine thirty. There are three messages from Sydney. None from my mother.

  The morning light catches the ring Nick gave me. Was that just yesterday?

  Pulling up to a sitting position I’m amazed to find that I’m not nauseated. In fact, I can smell bacon that Nick must have cooked this morning and my stomach doesn’t object. It rumbles. God, I’m starving.

  Nick fed me last night. We picked up some Italian food but I could barely eat. All I could think about was what would happen when we went to bed. I was sure he wouldn’t hurt me. At least I didn’t think so, but he might not treat me gently either. He didn’t even touch me though and spent the night on the couch.

  I wander to the kitchen and find a note. It’s a list of instructions. Call Dr. Weiss, the obstetrician Olivia works with. Eat breakfast. There’s something on the stove. Order maternity clothes on line with the credit card on the counter.

  I have to laugh at his suggestion I order clothes. How quickly does he think I’m going to get a tummy? I giggle and imagine greeting him at the door this evening with a pillow stuffed under my shirt. Nick knows nothing about babies. Except for how to make them. My amusement fades and I pick at the bacon on the stove. It’s still warm. He must have left less than an hour ago.

  My phone buzzes. Also – quit your job. I want u home.

  “Sure Nick. Who’s going to pay off my loan. The tooth fairy?”

  I’ve taken two weeks off work. Actually, they told me I was taking two weeks off. Once administrators found out I was pregnant and having morning sickness around the clock, they acted like I had MRSA or typhoid. I won’t be able to travel anymore, obviously. I can’t go into a disaster zone if I’m pregnant, but I’ll find some nursing job in Fulton. I have a five-hundred-dollar loan payment due the tenth of every month. I have to work.

  My phone buzzes again. I’ll pay tuition loan.

  What the hell? Is the guy spying on me? Hidden cameras or something? A weird feeling comes over me and my skin prickles. What sort of controlling bastard puts surveillance inside his own house? I spin, doing a three-sixty, shooting the finger to any device that might be recording me. I wait to see if he’ll respond. Nothing happens. I eat two more slices of bacon watching my phone, but there’s nothing.

  Now I feel sort of silly. Actually, very silly.

  I eat the rest of the bacon and head to the shower. What am I going to do with a whole day to myself? It feels lonesome. I strip out of my pajamas and freeze when I see the streak of blood. It’s on my panties.

  “Nick…” I whimper. I grab my phone and I want to dial but I can’t. I’m frozen with fear. I wrack my brain for a possible cause of the blood. I can’t remember anything. Is spotting early on in pregnancy okay or a tragedy? It’s like I don’t remember anything from nursing school.

  I rush back to the kitchen and dial the obstetrician’s number that Nick left for me. I tell them I’m only a month along but I’m bleeding. Instantly, I’m patched through to a nurse.

  “This is Olivia. I hear you’re having some bleeding. Tell me your name, hon. I’ll bring up your file.”

  Olivia… I close my eyes and clutch the counter for support. I’m standing in the middle of Nick’s kitchen stark naked, totally panic-stricken. If he actually has cameras on me and he’s watching me, he’ll have to wonder what the hell’s going on.

  “Hello?” she says. “Can you hear me?”

  I can’t believe it’s Olivia answering, but Fulton is small. There probably aren’t that many OB’s. Knowing the person helps me calm down. I shake off my panic. This is a medical situation so there’s a medical solution. That’s all.

  “I’m not an established patient, Olivia. This is Bailey…”

  Olivia recovers from her surprise quickly. I can tell she’s pleased I’m coming to see Dr. Weiss. She talks to me for a long time about how plenty of women experience bleeding. She says not to worry unless I have cramping too and tells me to abstain.

  Abstain. Yeah. Not a problem there.

  By the time I hang up, I love this woman. She’s kind and patient and I feel my heart rate return to normal. I don’t tell her the baby in question is her niece or nephew. Seems like a bad idea to break that sort of news over the phone. She gives me an appointment for the Monday after next.

  After I shower, I find Nick’s study, a door opposite the garage door. It’s a big room. Masculine with big, over-stuffed leather furniture. The cathedral ceiling soars overhead and the entire space is filled with light from the windows. Shelves line the wall. The books fall into two categories. Carpentry and Motorcycle Repair.

  His computer is on and I don’t even need a password to get online. I guess he trusts me not to snoop. Or he doesn’t care. I don’t snoop. Much. There’s nothing incriminating. No emails to women. His shopping history on retail sites is boring. I spend the day reading about the first trimester, refreshing my memory. And I nap. Twice.

  Nick comes home at dark, appearing in the bedroom doorway, silhouetted by the light in the hallway.

  “I picked up dinner. I already ate. I left yours on the counter.”

  And then he’s gone. I listen for his truck but instead I hear noises from his workshop. Saws. Hammers. I eat by myself, not tasting anything. After a few bites I feel warmth. It’s more blood, I’m sure. When I go to the bathroom I find it’s true.

  I sit on the couch, listen to the clatter and pounding coming from the workshop. Olivia eased my fears this morning but now they’re back, scarier than ever. My gynecologist swore I’d never have children. I’d grown accustomed to the idea, but now that I might be able to, it’s all I want. I realize this as I sit on the couch and stare into the cold, empty fireplace.

  A door opens and slams. Nick crosses the room, stopping abruptly when he sees me.

  “What’s wrong?” he snaps.

  “I’m bleeding. I talked to Olivia about it. It might not mean anything.”

  His lips thin and his gaze travels down my body as if he’s looking for some sign of what might be wrong.

  “Did you do something today? Something you shouldn’t have?”

  “No.” I let out a soft huff of indignation. “I didn’t cause this.”

  I can tell he’s not buying it. Like he thinks it’s my fault, that I accidentally hurt the baby. Shit, maybe he thinks I would put myself at risk so… I can’t even go where that thought leads.

  “I’m taking you to the Emergency Room,” he says. “Get your bag.”

  “They’ll just send me home.”

  He squints, like he’s trying to decide if I’m being truthful.

  “Call Olivia if you like. She promised me it would be okay. I’m not cramping.”

  Wincing, he shakes his head.

  “I’m being careful, but there’s always a chance that a pregnancy ends in the first trimester. I could be pregnant one day and not a few days later.” I explain in a cold, clinical tone. His eyes are hard and I can’t resist a biting remark. “And wouldn’t that be the answer to your prayers?”

  The instant I say the words, I regret them.

  His expression doesn’t change but it feels like the temperature in the cabin just fell about twenty degrees. He turns away, stalks down the hallway to our bedroom. A few moments later he emerges dressed in his leather pants and jacket. He leaves through the front door, slamming it so hard the windows rattle.

  For the next couple of hours, I hear the snarl of the bike’s engine. Sometimes it’s near and other times it’s far off. It can’t be a good idea to ride your dirt bike in the dark, but I don’t think he’s interested in my opinion. Just before bed, I wander to the front porch. The countryside is bathed in moonlight. At least he has some extra visibility.

  “Come back,” I say. A breeze carries my words away.

  I shouldn’t have said losing the baby would be an answer to his prayers. Guilt twists around my heart. What an awful thing to say. To anyone.

  “I’m sorry. So sorry. For everything.”

  Exhausted I go to bed alone,
for the second night. I wake to the sound of his footsteps nearby. His hand cups my shoulder and he nudges me back. Panic flares. Olivia told me I can’t have sex. Surely he wouldn’t ask. Not when he’s furious with me. I’m so startled I can hardly find the words to say. I try to push his hand from me, but he captures both wrists and pins them to the bed.

  He lowers and brushes his lips against my ear. “Don’t ever say that to me again. Do you understand?”

  My mouth is dry but I manage a reply. “Okay.”

  I wait, wondering how this is going to go, but he makes no move. He doesn’t come closer, but he doesn’t move away. His scent surrounds me. It’s sexy. Strong. Masculine. Everything about him feels threatening, and yet I want more of him. More of his touch. More.

  “You might know a lot of things.” His voice is a deep rumble. “But you have no idea what I’m praying for.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Nick

  After a week on the couch, I’m about as pleasant as a bear with a toothache. Mornings, I’m gone before she gets up. Nights, if I eat with Bailey, it’s mostly in silence. I ask her about the blood. She tells me it’s stopped and that makes me breathe easier.

  I ask her how she’s feeling. She always says the same. Fine. After, I go to my workshop and work on my new project. Even though I’m still beyond pissed at her.

  In spite of that I can’t stop thinking about Bailey, carrying our baby. At first, I wanted to make a rocker. I loved thinking about her rocking our kid to sleep at night, or before bedtime, or whenever you rock a baby. I had all the plans sketched out and had even cut a few of the pieces, but one night I came into my workshop, cleared the workspace and started on a whole new plan.

  I was going to give her something special, something that meant a lot to me, even though I was still mad as hell. I was still pissed she didn’t tell me about the baby, but then for her to suggest I would be happy if we lost the baby. The thought felt like being kicked by a mule.

  All the anger I hold inside vanishes in a heartbeat when she comes to me last night. She’s shaking and clammy and at first I thought something was going on with the baby. Or with her. She scared the hell out of me. But then she tells me it’s a dream she had. She wouldn’t tell me about the dream. Nothing, but she tells me she’s sorry. For everything.