by Hart, Lane
Fucking great.
It only takes Malcolm a minute to spot me, and then he’s coming over, climbing up on one of the stools at the counter.
The sight of him sends butterflies soaring around my belly despite the fact that he’s a complete and total asshole who doesn’t deserve to look so good.
Clearing my throat and taking a deep breath to try and slow down my racing heart that’s also doing somersaults in my chest, I keep my eyes focused on the ketchup bottles when I tell him as calmly as possible, “I don’t know what you’re doing here; but I need this job, so you and your foul temper need to leave.”
My words may have sounded calm, but my hands are shaking so badly I have to put the ketchup bottle down before I drop it. How long has it been since I’ve seen Malcolm? Eight or nine months now? It’s been almost a year, and yet just the sight of him still gets under my skin worse than I thought possible. Time made me forget just how handsome he is. I could’ve done without that unnecessary reminder.
My pulse pounds in my ears so loudly, I’m not sure I could hear Malcolm over it even if he did speak, but he doesn’t. The entire time I avoid looking at him but can feel his eyes on me, burning me up as he drinks me in.
Finally, after what feels like years, his deep, rumbly smoker’s voice says, “You never told me what the money was for.”
And that voice…so demanding and rough, somehow hits me the hardest right between the legs. Then, his words sink in, and I go from hot and horny to annoyed in a second flat. Why is it always about money with this grumpy bastard?
Not a hi, how are you, good to see you, you’re looking tired and exhausted. Nope. He gets straight to what’s most important in his mind – money.
Sighing, I ask, “Could you maybe be more specific? What money are you talking about, Malcolm?”
“The money you owed your father and tried to steal from me.”
Oh, that money. The money that cost me my self-respect, my dignity, my heart…
“What does it matter now?” I ask in confusion.
“It just does. Tell me,” he demands, still as bossy as before.
“Fine,” I huff. “I needed it to buy my grandparents’ house after my Gram died.”
“That shithole you currently live in?” he grunts his disapproval.
“It’s not a shit – wait, why am I even wasting my breath discussing this with you?” I ask in outrage. “It’s none of your business where I live!”
“Just answer the fucking question,” Malcolm mutters, still as impatient and foul-mouthed as ever.
“Yes, the house I now live in used to be my grandparents’.”
“Why save it when it obviously needs a lot of work?” he asks.
“Cosmetically, sure, it needs to be painted and a few things repaired, but none of that matters to me. The happy memories I had there with the only family I’ve ever known is what I care about. And that’s what I want for…”
“That’s what you want for what?” Malcolm snaps when I pause.
Grabbing a rag, just to have something to do with my hands and something to focus on besides his handsome face, I tell him, “The happy memories are what I want for my daughter too, more so than a nicer, more expensive house that’s cold and unhappy.”
“I thought she was our daughter,” his deep voice rumbles over me like thunder.
“No, she is my daughter!” I yell at him while I scrub the counter so hard I may peel off the paint. “I carried her inside of me for almost nine months. I gave birth to her after six agonizing hours where I felt like I was being tortured, and I love her and care for her and-and provide for her, so she is mine and mine alone!”
“Why haven’t you taken me to court yet?” he asks. “You could get enough cash from me in child support so that you wouldn’t have to work here while some kid who doesn’t look old enough to drive babysits our little girl.”
Wow, so he’s been to the house recently if he knows that Nancy’s daughter Beth is my sitter.
“I told you I don’t want your money,” I remind him. “I would rather Honey grow up without a father than know you’re hers and that you don’t want her.”
“That’s pretty fucked up, don’t you think?” he asks.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Then how about this, how fucked up is it that after a year, an entire fucking year, I haven’t been with another woman because I can’t get you out of my goddamn head?”
He’s…what?
“Like I would ever believe that for a second,” I reply. “I saw the half-naked women at your house the day I came by to tell you I was pregnant. Are you really trying to pretend like you didn’t sleep with one or all of them, and then half the female population in Carolina Beach over the last few months?”
“I haven’t,” he grits out, green eyes blazing with the kind of heat that dares me to call him a liar again.
“Even if you’re telling the truth, that-that’s not my fault,” I say. I don’t believe that Malcolm Hyde has been celibate for a second.
“Yeah, Naomi, it is,” he argues. “And I’m sick and tired of missing you and wondering if I was wrong about you. I feel like… like an idiot, because I’m pretty sure I was wrong for thinking the worst about you.”
“Yeah, you were. Took you long enough,” I tell him as my chin trembles and throat burns from trying to fight back tears.
“I’ve just been burnt so many times before when it comes to people screwing me for money. After a while, it becomes harder and harder to trust people.”
“I know,” I reply. “You don’t want to look like a fool again.”
“Right,” he agrees. “And lately, I constantly feel like a fucking fool for letting you go instead of giving you the benefit of the doubt.”
“You are a fool,” I tell him as tears burn my eyes because he’s here, telling me the things I’ve wanted to hear from him for so long, since the night I left his house.
“So, what’s it going to take for you to give me another chance?” he asks.
“Another chance?” I repeat in confusion.
“Yeah, to be with you, to meet my daughter.”
“You want to meet her?” I say in surprise while losing the battle with holding back tears.
“I really do,” he says. “She looks like you.”
“You’ve seen her?”
“Yes. Not up close, but...she’s beautiful, and I think she deserves to have a father in her life. Even if he is a fool half the time.”
“Most of the time,” I correct.
“Fine. Most of the time. I think I can be better for her, though.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask.
“Yeah. I think I can be better for you too, Naomi.”
God, I hate the way he says my name, making all of my anger and hate melt away like butter. “Why haven’t you been with anyone else, Malcolm?”
“I dunno,” he says as he leans onto the counter and runs his fingers through the front of his hair that’s even longer than before. “Maybe because I didn’t want to knock anyone else up on accident, but probably because I missed you and knew there wasn’t another woman alive that I would fight my own brother to have.”
“How is Fiasco?” I ask, causing Malcolm to instantly narrow his eyes at me.
“When I told him you were pregnant, he panicked because he thought it might be his,” he admits.
“No, he did not! We never even…”
“I know,” Malcolm mutters.
“So why would he…”
“Believe me, I know!” he says with a hint of a smile curving the corners of his lips. “And I don’t need to hear the reminder of what you did with him that doesn’t make babies.”
“He may not be the brightest, but the man is very well-endowed.”
“Why did you feel the need to go there and tell me that shit?” he grits out.
“Because you deserve it,” I tell him. “You were an asshole, Malcolm. So don’t think that one conversation after months is going to c
hange things after what you put me through…”
Malcolm suddenly stands up and reaches across the counter to grab two handfuls of the hair on either side of my head. Before I know what’s happening, he’s crushing his mouth to mine, cutting off any words I was planning to say abruptly. His tongue invades roughly, demanding entry from my lips and taking what it wants, a swipe of my tongue, without asking, which is the epitome of Malcolm. I really wish I didn’t get turned on by this sort of treatment. But I do, unfortunately.
I don’t even realize that I’m kissing him back until he groans into my mouth. That’s when I finally find the strength to peel his fingers from my hair and take two steps backward, out of his reach.
“You-you need to leave,” I tell him, swiping my knuckles across my damp lips to dry them off. “I have to, um, get everything done so I can go home.”
“I’ll wait here until you’re ready to leave,” Malcolm tells me, taking a seat on the stool again.
“You’re not coming home with me tonight,” I warn him. I’m too off-kilter to have him in my house, especially near a bed. I could end up doing things that I regret tomorrow, if not immediately at the time they happen. Not to mention I’m not supposed to be engaging in any sexual activity before my six-week checkup.
Not that I’m thinking about sleeping with Malcolm.
I won’t do that again.
Probably.
“Fine,” he huffs. “Let me come over tomorrow so I can see the baby?”
“No. I’ll, um, I’ll bring her to your place.”
“My place?” he asks.
“Yeah, your place. Say around four, before you go to work?”
“Fine.” He forces the single word out like the place and time is not of his preference but knows there’s not a lot he can do about it.
He’s such a control freak, and I really do enjoy being able to throw him off balance any way I can. Serves him right for coming in here out of the blue and turning my world upside down.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Malcolm
* * *
I’m up at ten a.m. the next morning, cleaning my house like a maniac in preparation for Naomi and the baby to come over later.
Honey. My daughter’s name is Honey. My daughter.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited about anything in my life. At least, I think this feeling gnawing its way through me is excitement. It could be abject terror, as both emotions are not really in my normal repertoire. Whatever this new sensation is, it’s driving my body into frantic motion, and my hands are so dry the skin is cracking from all the Clorox I’ve been using to wipe down everything, even the ceiling of my bathroom.
Once I’ve moved all the furniture searching for any sort of debris, and wiped down every exposed surface repeatedly, I stop and force myself to calm down. This seemingly inexhaustible energy feels like it might be the precursor to some sort of anxiety attack, and the last thing I need to do before Naomi and Honey come over is collapse.
I lean back and close my eyes, trying to focus on my memories with Naomi, and will my thoughts towards reconciliation. What can I possibly say, what can I possibly do, to try to fix things with her and prove to her that I want…that I want everything the two of them have to offer?
Naomi
* * *
“Are you feeling okay?” Nancy asks at the beginning of my shift.
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“Girl, you’re shaking like a leaf. How do you plan to serve coffee like this?”
“Sorry,” I say as I clasp my trembling hands together and wring them, ordering them to behave. “This afternoon I’m taking Honey to Malcolm’s house.”
“He’s the biker who knocked you up and fled the scene?” she asks.
“Yes, pretty much.”
“Is that the same guy who came by the house yesterday when Beth was there?”
“Probably.”
“She showed me his picture. He’s good-looking.”
“Yeah, he is,” I agree with a grin.
“Hard to forget a man that big and menacing with long, brown hair,” she goes on to say. “Which is why I distinctly remember seeing him at the hospital…”
“What? When?”
“The day the baby was born.”
“No, that’s impossible. Yesterday was the first time Malcolm and I have spoken in months.”
“Well, he was definitely there, right outside your room. I didn’t know who he was there for at the time, but now…”
“He was at the hospital. You’re sure?”
“Yes. And Beth said he drives a black and yellow bike that I bet looks a lot like the one that’s always at the gas station across the street.”
“Really? You’ve seen a black and yellow bike across the street?”
“You haven’t noticed?”
“I guess I’ve been busy…” I trail off as I try to make sense of what Nancy’s telling me. Malcolm was at the hospital when I was in labor, and his bike is always across the street? Has he been checking up on me all this time without me knowing it?
“Mind if I take a quick break?” I ask her, knowing she won’t care.
“Sure.”
“Thanks,” I say while removing my apron. “I’m just gonna run across the road to talk to Greg.”
“Okay. Get those shaking hands under control while you’re gone too!” she calls out as I head for the door.
There’s not much traffic on the two-lane road this morning; so as soon as it’s clear, I rush across the pavement and across the parking lot to the door of the gas station.
“How’s it going, Naomi?” Greg ask from behind the counter as soon as I walk in. “Looks like you had the baby!”
“I did, and I’m good, thanks. But I do have a question for you,” I start when I walk up to the register.
“Okay?” he asks.
“Do you know Malcolm Hyde?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How well do you know him?”
“Pretty well.”
“Could you elaborate?” I ask.
“He comes in here most days.”
“Most days?”
“Just between us?” he leans forward on his elbows to ask.
“Of course.”
“The dude is in here all the time, usually once a day.”
“And what does he do when he’s here?”
Now Greg just blinks silently at me. “Greg?”
“He watches you,” he finally says. “But not in a creepy way! Well, maybe it is sort of creepy. Mostly I think he’s just been worried about you and the baby.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Not much to understand,” he says. “The man obviously loves you and wants you back.”
“He told you that?”
“Pretty much. He’s just been trying to figure out how to go about getting you back after he fucked up.”
“That’s what he said? That he fucked things up with me?”
“Yep. Almost verbatim.”
“Well at least he’s an honest stalker.”
“You’re not mad at him for keeping an eye on you, are you?” he questions.
“I don’t know,” I say on a sigh.
“From what I know about Malcolm, he’s not someone who enjoys admitting when he’s wrong.”
“No, he definitely does not.”
“So you should probably give him a break. Or not! Totally up to you!”
“You have no idea what he’s put me through,” I tell him.
“Maybe not. But he does miss you. And he hates that you’re working again so soon after having the baby. He’s worried about you, Naomi.”
“The grumpy bastard has a crazy way of showing it,” I say with a shake of my head.
“Yeah, he does. And he’s been so grumpy that he has to pay me for running off customers while he’s here stalking you.”
“He pays you to watch me from here?”
“Yep. Which is why I’ve been giving you free gas. It
’s the least I can do for all the money he’s giving me.”
“Now it’s all starting to make sense,” I mutter to myself.
After months of being angry at Malcolm and missing him, it blows my mind to think that he may have felt the exact same way about me.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Malcolm
* * *
“You came,” I say in surprise after the doorbell rings and I open it to find Naomi on the other side.
“Yep, I came,” she replies before I notice the baby seat thing she’s carrying that’s so heavy she’s leaning to the side.
“Here. Let me take that,” I tell her as I reach for the handle of the seat.
“Careful!” she warns me, refusing to let go.
“I’m not going to swing her around in the air upside down or anything,” I assure her.
“How am I supposed to know that, Malcolm?” Naomi asks, before finally releasing her hold and letting me take control of the heavy seat. “You told me to get an abortion, and then you forgot all about us until yesterday! Or at least I thought you had forgotten us, but maybe you didn’t…”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say as I avoid her gaze, staring down at the sleeping angel instead. She’s still just as tiny and beautiful as the day she was born.
“Yes, you do,” Naomi challenges. “Greg told me everything.”
“I’m gonna kick that traitor’s ass,” I threaten.
“No, you’re not.”
“Guess we’ll see,” I tell her even though we both know I’m full of shit. The fact is, Naomi and the kid have made me soft. I’m not sure how I feel about that yet. I do know that anything is better than being miserable and lonely.
“We can go sit in the living room,” I say as I start in that direction.
“I hope you’ve sanitized since your party,” I hear Naomi mutter under her breath.
