Cocksure

by K. I. Lynn

“Baby, don’t even try to bring me down. You can’t. You’ve prayed for me, and I’ll make you pray again and again. You’ll worship me on your knees.”

  “Cocky fuck.”

  “Sure am.”

  She lets out the cutest giggle. “I’ll text you the information for the appointment.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, and Niko?” she says just as I’m about to hang up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Stay safe, okay? I need you.” The way her voice wavers is like a knife in my chest. Reminders of the dangers of my job suddenly mean more, make me want to be more cautious and less gung-ho because now I have someone who needs me. I have two who need me.

  “Always. Good luck tomorrow.”

  “Gym tomorrow?” I ask Cam, knowing full well he has plans. Fuck, I hate this lying shit, but Ev needs some time, so I’ll give it to her, but not too much.

  He shakes his head. “Sorry, man, got a family thing. Lunch with a side of revelation.”

  I scrunch my brow. “Revelation?”

  “Everly’s telling Mom and Dad.”

  I clap my hand down on his shoulder. “Better you than me.” And that’s the truth. Then again, I can see his parents handling the news a lot better than Cam will.

  “Why the fuck couldn’t you have a little sister so you could understand my pain?” he grumbles.

  “I’ve got sixteen cousins, nine of them boys that ask the same thing.”

  “Ah, the Callahan clan.”

  I punch his shoulder. “Dipshit, we’re Irish, not Scottish.”

  “No, they are Irish. You’re only half.” I shake my head at him because he’s an idiot. ”So how do family reunions and holidays go? Do you bring baklava to serve with the boiled corn beef and cabbage?”

  “Asshole. You know, you’ve been ragging on me a lot lately. Are you not getting attention down south? Ya boys lonely?”

  “Oh, I’m getting lots of action, unlike your celibate ass.”

  “Yeah, okay. If you say so, Cam.”

  “Which reminds me, can Niko come out and play tomorrow night? I need to let off some steam.”

  I shake my head. “Such a jackass, and no, I can’t.”

  Cam blows out a breath. “You were so much cooler when you were single. Come on, we’ve got the alarm inspection to do.”

  I get up and follow behind him. This is how our relationship has always been, and I want to keep it that way. But he needs to know about Everly and me. The sooner, the better.

  TELLING MY MOM AND Dad that I am pregnant is awful. I feel like a teenager. Just getting the words past my lips is the most strenuous thing I’ve ever done. Sitting across the table from them, watching their faces go blank in shock.

  “I don’t understand,” Mom says, blinking at me. Apparently, she doesn’t like the idea of being a grandmother yet. I thought, “I’m pregnant,” was pretty clear.

  “What is there not to understand, Linda? Our daughter is pregnant.”

  She shakes her head. “I spent years drilling into your head safe sex.”

  “Mom, it happened, and I’m not a teenager. I’m twenty-five, have a successful career, and own my own home. You and Dad were younger than I am now when you had Cameron. I was on birth control but didn’t use a condom. It’s rare, but it happens.” Not lies. I was on birth control, and that was my fault. The condoms, however, were an oops that shouldn’t have happened.

  “Watch it, Everly. We were also married when we had your brother. You’ve just told us that our only daughter, our very single daughter, is pregnant with her first child after abruptly moving across the country with no warning, selling her home there and buying a new one here, and taking a new job. Excuse your mother for being a little shell-shocked as this is a lot to take in. We expected Cameron to come home one day and tell us he got some poor young lady pregnant, but never did we expect this news from you.” I knew my dad would feel this way, so I’m not saying anything because he is right.

  “Is it Tate’s?” Mom asks, her brow scrunched.

  I steal a glance at Cam who quirks a brow at me. He doesn’t believe me, and with good reason. The problem is, I can’t tell anyone who the father is right now.

  “I’m not with the father, but that doesn’t matter. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of a child on my own. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Of course it matters! Everly, he has a right to know that he has a child coming. Is that why you came home?” my mother asks, but my father just stares over my shoulder looking out of the window behind me.

  I shake my head. “No. I left because Tate was a lying, cheating piece of pond scum, and I had to get away.”

  “He’s harassing her.” That has my father’s attention. He turns and looks at me and then my brother.

  “Cam!” I hiss, glaring at my brother. His intentions are good but unnecessary. Tate is harmless, just annoying.

  “Do we need to get the lawyer on the phone? File a restraining order? He has a legal right, but he has legal obligations as well. We can get our attorney on this right away. He won’t have a chance in hell if he’s harassing you while you’re pregnant.”

  I roll my eyes. “A restraining order? Dad, he’s over three thousand miles away. He’s just a pest. It will die down.”

  “Ev, it’s been over three months. How often is he contacting you?” Cam asks, and I want to kick him.

  My phone chooses that second to go off, and I let out a groan and look up at the ceiling.

  Thanks, Tate, you fucking asshole.

  Cam picks up my phone and turns the screen toward my parents. “Speak of the asshole,” he says and presses the green button on my phone, accepting the call. “Hello, Tate.”

  “Cameron!” I whisper-yell, trying to grab my phone from his hands. I can hear the tone of Tate’s voice, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

  “No, asshole. This is her brother, not that it would be any of your damn business who the fuck answers her phone. You lost that right when you fucked around on my sister,” he says, and again, I can hear Tate saying something, but I can’t hear what his reply is.

  I’m sure it’s bullshit, but I still want to hear.

  “Never mind all that shit. Save that BS for someone who doesn’t know shit when they hear it. Listen up, Tate, and listen good, because I’m only going to warn you once. Stay the fuck away from my sister. Don’t call, don’t text, don’t fucking email. She’s done with you. I know she’s told you because I’ve seen the text messages she sent you saying just that.” Cam’s eyes find mine, and he stares straight at me. “She doesn’t need the stress on top of being pregnant, so do us all a favor and cut the shit. When she decides to talk to you, she’ll contact you. Until then, fuck off, asshole!”

  He is still staring straight at me as he pulls the phone away and hits end call, holding the phone out to me. I can feel the blood drain from my face in horror before it floods back in from anger.

  “Cameron! What did you just do?” Oh my God. He just told Tate that I’m pregnant. He’s going to think this baby is his! “I can’t believe you just did that.” I drop my head into my hands. Jesus . . . He just opened a whole new can of worms now.

  Worst of all, Cameron is daring me to call him a liar, and I don’t flinch. Not that I have any reason to. He told Tate that I’m pregnant, nothing about Tate being the father.

  “This is ridiculous. We’re going to change your number. Right now,” Dad says.

  I shake my head. “Dad, I did that a few weeks after I moved here, remember? It didn’t do any good. Within a week he got ahold of the new number. Probably from one of my friends who believed his bullshit and felt sorry for him.”

  “Then we’ll get you a number under our plan.”

  “Richard, we can’t do that. He’s the father of our grandchild.” Mom turns to me. “You are going to give him a chance to fix things, right?”

  I shake my head almost vehemently. “No.”

  “The financial damage alone, Mom,” Cam says. �
��He knows how much money she has, and I would not put it past him to extort money.”

  As much as I hate to admit it, Cam’s right. It would get ugly, and he would use the child as a pawn.

  What am I saying? I’m beginning to believe what they believe, that Tate is the father. What the hell did I just get myself into? This isn’t good. This is getting worse by the second.

  “He knows how much money you have? What does that mean?” Dad asks, his eyes wide.

  I hold my hands up. “He knows I have a trust fund, but not the amount. But, Dad, I make six figures, which is about twice what he makes.”

  “She can leave the father part of the birth certificate blank; they’re not married. She has no obligation to list him,” Cam suggests.

  Dad’s eyes go wide, and he looks to Mom. Doing that spells scandal. People would find out, would talk.

  My head is killing me, and the stress of the situation is taking its toll. I’m almost to the point of screaming out, “Niko is the father, all right? Nikolas Callahan fucked me one night after a few too many drinks.” However, that wouldn’t do any good right now. It would only make this conversation worse.

  “When is the baby due?” Mom asks after a minute of silence.

  “Um, March first.”

  Mom blinks and looks at me. Stares at me more like it, her fingers ticking on the table. She’s counting, and I realize the problem with my lie.

  The numbers don’t match.

  I lock eyes with her, pleading not to ask, not to question.

  She purses her lips and gives a little nod. “Well, that leaves us plenty of time to figure out how to handle the situation.”

  Dad slams his hands on the table before pushing his chair back. “Cameron, let’s go make a drink.”

  Cam and I exchange looks before he pulls back and follows Dad to the parlor where his cognac supply is.

  Oh, boy.

  We watch them head down the hall before Mom gets up and sits in the chair next to me. “Everly, who is the father?” Mom asks in a whisper, making sure Dad and Cam are out of earshot.

  I shake my head. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

  “Everly.”

  “Please,” I stress. “I’ll tell you, I just can’t right now.”

  She nods and wraps her arms around me. “I love you, sweetheart.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  She pulls back, a forced smile below her worry-filled eyes. “Well, what’s done is done, so now we need to get ready for the coming bundle of joy.” A sharp “Oh!” combined with her eyes going wide and her mouth popping open means only one thing, and probably a lot of money. “We can get Clara Langley, you remember her, right? She designed your cousin Kiki’s wedding. Anyway, she’s a party planner, and I just love how she handled the wedding. After that, Sarah McMillan hired her for their annual season-opening party down the cape, and it was to die for.”

  “Mom, seriously? I haven’t lived here in almost eight years.”

  She blinks at me. “That doesn’t mean we don’t have family or friends we want to invite.”

  “Your socialite is screaming.”

  “Oh, hush,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Just answer me this . . . is there going to be an issue with the father?”

  I shake my head. “No. He surprised me. He was angry when I told him he didn’t need to be involved.”

  “Really? Do you love this man?”

  I roll my eyes. “Mom.”

  “I’m just asking.”

  “It’s complicated right now, and maybe in a few months it won’t be so complicated.”

  That seems to appease her, and for the first time since I told her our family is expanding, a genuine smile lights up her face. “All right, well . . . Where are you going to put the baby’s room?”

  “It’s a good thing I bought a three bedroom.”

  It’s been a stressful, annoying, lie-filled day, and I’m exhausted. This feeling of ick and disgust is why I hate lying. The only reason I’m doing it is for Niko’s sake. Not entirely accurate, but mostly. He’s the one who will be damaged the most when it comes out.

  “Oh, hi, Everly,” Grant says as he exits the door not ten feet from my own.

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  He nods, and I can hear Jojo whining on the other side of the door. It’s been a few years since I shared a wall with someone. “Good. You?”

  “Not bad. About to rescue your dog and take her upstairs for a snuggle.”

  He laughs, a sound that warms me. It’s smooth, natural. The fact that he’s handsome and sexy only adds to his appeal, but it doesn’t escape my mind that he doesn’t hold a candle, in my mind or body, to Niko.

  “Without me?” he asks, a shy smile on his lips that makes me miss the cocky one I dream of.

  “Girls’ sleepover. No boys allowed,” I say. It’s the gentlest way I can turn him down. My life is way too complicated right now to even entertain the idea of being with Grant. He’s the safe one, but I don’t want safe. I want cocky.

  Grey eyes, muscular arms, tattoos, and lips that make me weak.

  He nods. “Well, I better get going. Have to pick up Ella. Good seeing you.”

  “You too.”

  He jogs down the steps, then turns back. “Oh, I almost forgot, I’m having a party next weekend. Would love for you to come.”

  I give him a polite smile and nod. “Sounds great. Text me the details.”

  The second I’m through the door, I blow out a breath, lock the door again, and trudge my tired ass upstairs. The exhaustion sweeping me has been intense lately, coming in waves. More than once this week I found my head against my desk mid-afternoon and have been scared out of my mind when my phone rang, or someone knocked on my door, startling me awake.

  Then there’s the vomiting. I’m so tired of having my head stuck in the toilet or sink or trash can. I’ve lost five pounds in the last two weeks because I can’t keep any food down. Dry heaves are the worst. I thought it was called morning sickness, not all the damn time of the day sickness.

  It sucks. I just want to curl into a ball, pull the blankets over my head, and sleep until it goes away. I do just that when I hear my doorbell ring. I let out a groan and ignore it. No way am I getting up. I finally feel like I can fall asleep without puking myself awake.

  The bell rings again, followed by knocking. I take a deep breath in and pull myself up into a sitting position, waiting for the dizziness to pass. It doesn’t seem like whoever is at my door is going away. I toss my legs to the side of the bed and pull myself up.

  I don’t feel so bad right now, and so I make my way slowly downstairs to the door. I see his silhouette and know right away who it is. Even though I know it’s him, I’m still never prepared to see him, and as usual, my heart races along with those butterflies I get in my stomach that has nothing to do with morning sickness.

  “Niko? What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He pulls his arms up with a multitude of bags hanging from his hands. “Dinner.”

  I open the door and let him by. Was this planned and I forgot? Did he message me? I’m tired and confused and, after the day I’ve had, not sure if I’m happy or annoyed that he showed up possibly unannounced.

  “Seriously? What is all this?”

  “Well, I didn’t know what you’d be craving, so I kind of just bought a little of everything.”

  I can’t help the way my lips draw up. It’s sweet. It really is. Niko is trying; he’s just a little too early in the process for crazy food cravings.

  “Thank you.”

  He beams at me. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m not sure I can eat right now, but you can eat.”

  “Why?” He tilts his head to the side, inspecting me. A look of concern crossing his handsome face. “Now that you mention it, you look pale, Ev. You okay?’

  “I think so. They say it will pass hopefully once I’m out of my first trimester.”

  “What will? Looking like you’re d
ying? Whatever is going on, it can’t be good for you or the baby. You look really pale.”

  “Gee, thanks!”

  “I don’t mean it like that, babe, but you look like you feel terrible. If you’re not going to go in, at least eat something light?”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I concede before leaning over to look into the bags. “What did you bring?”

  He smiles and starts pulling containers from the bags he set down.

  “I’ve got a little of everything. Wasn’t sure what you’d be craving, so I even brought pickles and ice cream. Neapolitan, so you can pick a flavor.” He lets out a laugh.

  “Pickles? That doesn’t sound good with ice cream, Niko.”

  “What? I thought all pregnant women liked pickles?”

  “I don’t know about all women, but that doesn’t sound appealing at all. It sounds pretty gross.” I hold my hand over my mouth. “Yeah, no to the pickles and ice cream.”

  “Okay. It’s gone,” he says, throwing the pickles back in the bag and slipping the ice cream into the freezer. “Noted. Just don’t puke because I’ll likely throw up with you.”

  That makes me giggle. I start to walk to the kitchen, but my bell rings again. Who could that be? Then it hits me.

  Oh shit! “What if it’s Cam? Go hide!”

  “Everly . . .”

  “Please?” I plead. He blows out a puff of air before conceding.

  “I’ll go this time, but Everly, he needs to be told. This is my kid too. Things are different now, and I don’t want him to find out from anyone else. It’s only going to make things worse.”

  “I know. We’ll tell him. Just not yet, okay?” He doesn’t say anything, just walks from the room. I turn and go to my front doorway, but when I get there, I see that it’s not Cam, it’s Grant. I open the door to Grant and find his daughter, Ella, standing beside him, a wry smile on her dad’s face as he rubs the back of his neck.

  “Ah hey, Everly. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “Hi! Can you have dinner with us? We’re making burgers on the grill, and Daddy burns them.”

  I laugh at the little girl’s straightforwardness. “Hi Ella, right?”

  “Yes, and you’re Everly. Daddy said we could ask you to come over for our cookout. Can you come over? I just got a new Pinkie Pie. You can play with it if you want to.”