Born of Lies

by Sara Dailey

  “I love you too, Dad,” I started, and I wanted to say so much more, but the phone clicked and the line went dead. My father was gone, and the realization of that brought me to my knees.

  I dropped the phone, and it dangled from the cord as I sank to ground and sobbed. I was incredibly sad, but I also couldn’t believe it. Paul and I were going to make it. My dad was going to keep us safe. And he was proud of me for being who I am.

  Everything looked safe and clear for the rest of our life together.

  *****

  After a late night, the last thing I wanted to do was haul my dog-tired butt out of bed, but I needed to take my first official trip to the grocery store alone. Paul had car-pooled to Tracks this morning so I could pick up a few things before I had to go to work.

  The clock was ticking, so I hurried to get dressed and high-tailed it to the local Foodtown. My first stop was the produce aisle, and this might sound totally lame, but I felt so grown up, which was sort of odd, being that a few weeks ago I was planning a wedding and had a house with a fully decorated nursery awaiting me yet it wasn’t until this moment that I actually felt like an adult. There was just something about picking out fresh veggies that screamed, Hey, look at me. I’m living on my own and I plan on cooking real food in my very own kitchen.

  Yes, I was being silly, but I couldn’t help it. I was happy. Paul loved me, and there wasn’t a single part of me that regretted my decision. My life was working out just like it was supposed to. With each day that passed, our worries lessened that the pack might show up out of the blue and try to force me to go back. After I’d talked to my dad, I started to believe they really were going to let me go. Either that, or they had no idea where I went. Just to be safe, I used cash only and didn’t plan on opening my own bank account for a while.

  I followed my grocery list to a T, and by the time I crossed off the last item on the page my basket was full. Just before I headed to the checkout area, however, I remembered that I was almost out of face wash, so I took a quick detour to the toiletries section.

  Looking up at the signs overhead, I searched for the one that listed soap…then did a double-take when two words in particular caught my eye. Holy Mother of God! Feminine hygiene! I stood there frozen in the middle of the main aisle. Staring at the sign hanging from the ceiling, I tried to think back. How long had it been since I’d had my last period?

  There was only one answer. Too damn long.

  Suddenly I needed to sit down, and I did. I sank to the ground next to my basket, hung my head in my hands, and tried desperately not to have a panic attack on the dingy floor of Foodtown.

  Wait. How could this be? I’d been careful. Each and every time I’d made sure we were careful. Maybe I wasn’t pregnant. Maybe it was just the stress of everything that had transpired over the last month or so. Surely that could be it. But one way or the other I needed to be sure.

  I dragged my shaking body up off the floor and wiped away the tears I hadn’t even realized had fallen, and I reminded myself to breathe in and out as I wobbled over to the shelf containing the pregnancy tests. With a spinning head, I couldn’t read the tiny print on the back of the boxes, so I picked out three different brands and tossed them in the basket.

  Somehow I must have checked out, loaded the car, and driven home. I wasn’t sure how I even got back to the apartment. Everything was one big blur. As I unpacked and put away the groceries, I placed the tests on the counter.

  After everything was in its proper place, I stood in the kitchen and stared at the three little boxes. They might very well change my life forever. I glanced at the clock on the wall. I had to be at work in an hour. I also had to know.

  Completely numb, I grabbed all three boxes and a plastic cup and stumbled to the bathroom. I almost laughed when I thought that this kind of felt like doing a science experiment, which just went to show my mental state because there was not one single amusing thing about an eighteen-year-old runaway taking a pregnancy test.

  My eyes shifted back and forth between the second hand on my watch and the result screens on the tests. It was the longest three minutes in the history of man, but finally the results appeared, and I grabbed the directions, read and re-read the tiny print, and then sank to the floor once again. Tears poured from my eyes as I sobbed uncontrollably.

  How can this be? How am I going to tell Paul? Paul! Shit-shit-shit!

  I rose up from the floor, dashed into the kitchen, and flung open the door to the pantry. Inside hung a calendar with both of our work schedules penciled in. I pulled it off the tack that held it in place and flipped it back to May. I counted the weeks, recounted the days, and then found a pen to do the math on paper. The numbers didn’t add up. There was absolutely no way that the baby inside me was Paul’s, which could only mean one thing.

  I was carrying Marcus Walker’s baby.

  Chapter 18

  My head pounded as I sat on the couch in our apartment waiting for Paul to get home. From the second I saw the hot pink line appear in the positive window of the first test, I’d been in a constant state of shock. I didn’t freak out. I didn’t cry anymore. I’d just methodically packed a bag knowing that once I told Paul he would want me to leave.

  I called in sick to work and then called the bus station. There was a bus leaving tonight at 9:15 that made a stop in Santa Fe. From there I could call Marcus. No one on the estate would be thrilled to accept me back into the pack, but once they found out that I was carrying their alpha’s baby, they would do it. They’d have to. And Marcus, even though he hated me, would marry me.

  I had been sitting in the same spot for more than four hours by the time I heard Paul walking up the stairs to our apartment. I held my breath as I listened to him slip his key into the lock, and my heart nearly stopped as the knob turned and the door opened. Seeing his face, knowing that I would never be able to hold him again after today, sent me falling headfirst into reality, and the built-up tears flooded my eyes.

  Paul dropped his keys and ran over. He knelt down before me and took both my hands in his. “Lillian, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  When I didn’t answer, he began to search the room with his eyes. I knew the exact moment when he saw my packed bag. “Damn it, Lillian, tell me what happened!”

  “Sit down, Paul,” I said, managing to pull myself together a bit.

  “Not until you tell me why you have a bag packed. Are you leaving me, Lillian?”

  I reached for his hand, and he let me take it. I could tell that he didn’t want to give in, but he sat anyway.

  “I have to go back to the estate,” I told him.

  “Why? Did someone find us? Did they threaten you?” Paul asked in a panic.

  “It’s not like that. No one has found us.”

  “I don’t understand, Lillian. Why would you want to go back there?” Tears darkened his beautiful blue eyes.

  “Because I’m pregnant,” I whispered.

  “You’re what?”

  I took a shaky, deep breath and repeated, “I’m pregnant.”

  Paul’s initial reaction shattered my heart into a million pieces. His smile was real, raw emotion; he was ecstatic. Then, it was like I could see him doing the same math in his head that I had done earlier, and his gorgeous smile started to fade. He stood up and began to walk out of the room. He was about to disappear into the kitchen when he turned to me and said, “I need a minute. Do not leave, okay?”

  I nodded. What else could I do? I had just ruined his life. I bet he wished he could go back in time to that music festival and do things differently. If I left now, he would recover. He may be sad and hurt, but he would move on. He would find someone else, and one day he would have his own family. He would have everything he deserved.

  All at once my stomach clenched, and I ran into our tiny bathroom. I wasn’t sure if my first case of morning sickness had struck or if it was purely from stress, but I was vomiting in the middle of the most important conversation of my life. Whatever it was
, it was definitely karma.

  After I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I stood in front of the mirror staring at a girl I hardly recognized anymore. I wasn’t sure what to say to her.

  I walked back into the living room, and Paul was leaning against the wall near the kitchen. He had a beer in one hand and a glass of water in the other. We both walked toward the couch, and he handed me the water.

  I thanked him without meeting his eyes. I thought he was going to sit beside me, but he didn’t. Instead, he picked up my bag and carried it into the bedroom. I sat there confused.

  Paul came back in and knelt in front of me. “Do you really love me, Lillian?” he asked.

  “You know I do, but—”

  “No buts. Just answer my question. Do you love me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you happy here?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then stay,” he said.

  “But what about Marcus? The baby?” I asked.

  “Call him. Tell him that you’re pregnant. After the baby’s born, you can work out some kind of custody agreement. People do that all the time,” he said rationally.

  That solution might have been perfectly rational for a human, but not for a werewolf. I tried to explain to Paul that things in a pack worked differently.

  “If I call and tell Marcus that I’m pregnant with his child, he would be here tonight. He would force me back on the estate,” I explained.

  Paul furrowed his brow. With conviction in his voice he responded, “He can’t do that. I wouldn’t let him.”

  I so loved this man, but he didn’t understand. I was carrying Marcus’s heir. There would be no way in hell he would share custody, much less allow another man, a human, to raise that child. If Marcus—or any pack member for that matter—knew this baby was his, I would be married to Marcus and living in that house on the estate in the blink of an eye.

  “I don’t think I have many options, Paul. And I’m not being dramatic when I say that Marcus would have you killed and drag me back if he found out. There will be no ‘talking it out,’” I said.

  Paul moved to sit next to me on the couch. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said, staring at the wall in front of him. “Ever.”

  “I don’t want to leave,” I admitted.

  “I’m in love with you, Lillian.”

  “I’ve never doubted that. And I love you more than I thought was even possible,” I said.

  “You have to do what you think is right, but if you stay, I will love you and your child for the rest of my life,” he said as he turned to look at me.

  “You would do that? You would love this baby?” I asked, overcome.

  “As my own,” he swore.

  As soon as the words left his lips, I crawled onto his lap and showered kisses all over his face.

  “Does this mean you’re going to stay?” he asked.

  “Forever,” I whispered, loving his smile. And I knew that I would. I would be with him forever, and there was no place I’d rather be.

  “Lillian,” Paul said between those passionate kisses that I loved so much. “Marry me.”

  Chapter 19

  The next few months went by so quickly that sometimes it felt as though I was barely keeping my head above water. The same day I told Paul I was pregnant I also told him that I wouldn’t marry him. But the truth was that I did want to marry him. I just didn’t want to feel as though we were getting married just because I was expecting. After my time with Marcus, I couldn’t agree to any marriage of obligation. I told Paul that if he still wanted to marry me after all the sleepless nights and dirty diapers to ask me again. He seemed satisfied with that, and since then our love for each other grew right along with my belly.

  Paul’s career really took off. He’d sold his first song back in October and a few more since. With the extra money we moved from our tiny one-bedroom to a tiny two-bedroom, and it probably wouldn’t be long before Paul could quit his job at the record store and write full-time.

  He brought home a giant box one day and spent three hours in the baby’s room. He wouldn’t let me in, not even once. Finally, he came out looking very proud of himself, and when I saw what he did I burst into tears. Paul was used to all my crying by then, so he knew they were happy tears. And the crib was absolutely perfect!

  My first semester as a college student at ACC was incredible. I absolutely loved my classes and decided to major in computer science. I couldn’t believe that I’d ever considered not going to college, and I refused to let my pregnancy stop me. I was really good at school, too: straight A’s. Whenever I thought back to my life on the estate, and to the future I would have had there, I was doubly grateful for my one moment of bravery—and to Tiffany for ditching me for that hottie. I often found myself wondering if she ever made it out of Red Ridge like she planned. For her sake I hoped she had, and that maybe we would find each other again someday.

  Paul was playing his usual Thursday-night gig when the contractions started. I tried to call the bar, but no one was answering the phone. I was just about to bang on our neighbor’s door to beg for help when I heard Paul’s key slip into the front lock. It was 3:00 a.m. and the contractions were only four minutes apart. I was flooded with relief, but poor Paul freaked out!

  It probably didn’t help matters that I was lying in the middle of the living room floor with a bed sheet and a sheet of plastic underneath me. We were having this baby at home since there was no way I could have a nonhuman baby in a regular hospital; there was just no way to hide the fact that I wasn’t human. They’d know something was off the second they took my temperature, and the complications that could come with having a baby at home without a doctor were nothing compared to what could happen if someone found out about werewolves. Plus, I was healthy, so there was really no reason to think that everything wouldn’t go as planned.

  At least that was what I kept telling myself.

  As soon as Paul saw me, he slammed the door and slid to his knees in front of me. “Holy shit, Lillian. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. There’s still time to get to a hospital.”

  “Paul, you know we can’t. Look, we’ve planned for this. You’ve researched it for months. You know what you’re doing. You can do this! But you have to calm down.” He looked like he was the one in labor. Sweat dripped down the sides of his face, and he was breathing erratically as he hurried to the kitchen to wash his hands and get everything ready.

  By the time my body was telling me it was time to push, Paul was handling the pressure like a champ, and it was me doing the freaking out. I screamed so loud that I was sure the police would be banging on our door any minute, but thankfully the neighbors didn’t seem to notice. Paul assured me over and over that I was doing fine and that everything would be okay, and it all passed by in a blurry haze of excruciating pain, creative cussing, and a sudden rush of relief when we finally became the proud parents of a healthy baby boy.

  He was beautiful. He was perfect.

  With tears in my eyes I begged, “We can never tell him the truth. Promise me that he’ll never know. He can never know that I was only eighteen when he was born. That I ran away from home. He can never know that you’re not his biological father. Promise me.”

  Paul leaned in and kissed me tenderly, careful not to disturb the precious new life in my arms. “I’m his father. I always will be. That I can promise. And don’t worry. Everything will work out. From this moment on, you are twenty-one. A twenty-one-year-old woman who decided to leave home of her own free will. Don’t worry, baby. It will be our secret.”

  A few hours later I woke up from a small nap and saw the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Paul was sitting in the recliner rocking Aiden.

  Aiden Wright. Our son.

  *****

  Six months later we were standing in the doorway of Aiden’s bedroom watching our little man sleep, and out of nowhere Paul dragged me into the room. He said he wanted our son to be there for this in his “own little wa
y.”

  There, right there in the middle of the nursery, Paul asked me to marry him again. With overwhelming love in his eyes he pledged, “All the sleepless nights and dirty diapers in the world couldn’t keep me from asking you this a million times over. Marry me, Lillian Michaels. You are the strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and nothing would make me happier than to call you my wife.”

  He took my hands, sank down to his knee, and he held out a beautiful ring.

  This time I said yes.

  Epilogue

  Christmas morning, 2012

  Blinking back tears, I turn away from the window and from the memories of the past. I knew coming back here would be hard, but I never dreamed that it would take this much out of me. I know I did the right thing, though. Leaving this place all those years ago was the bravest decision I ever made. Coming back was the hardest. It was still right.

  I wipe my eyes and follow the smell of bacon, pancakes, and fresh coffee downstairs. When I reach the bottom step, I can see everyone gathered around the island in the kitchen. Paul is standing over the stove, trying to keep the bacon grease from spattering his arms. Those arms. Those beautifully tattooed arms that really once saved my life.

  Aiden is pouring a glass of orange juice for his mate, Teagan. She’s a sweet girl who will make my baby very happy. He loves her. That makes me happy. Regardless of whether or not he becomes the alpha here, he will never have to choose between loyalty and love. He will get to have both.

  Paul and our daughter Alli laugh as he tries to a stick a piece of burnt bacon into her mouth. As he wrestles her into a headlock, he sees me. My knees still go all wobbly when he smiles at me that way. That rock-star smile lights up his face and reaches all the way up into those swimming-pool-blue eyes of his.

  “Help me, Mom,” Alli screeches as she tries to wrestle away, which she could easily do if she really wanted, what with her werewolf strength and all.