I turn off the water and go to step out when I see it—a giant fucking spider blocking my way. I hate spiders. I instinctively scream and push myself back into the corner of the shower as far as I can. The bathroom door suddenly bursts open and a fierce, disheveled looking Ryan comes barging in.
“What the fuck? Are you ok?” He looks around wildly, fists clenched and ready, no doubt searching for the axe murderer my over-dramatic screams must have led him to believe was attacking me. When he realizes nobody else is here, he looks confused.
I try to cover myself as best I can with my hands and nod to the shower door just as the eight legged beast starts to crawl away. “There! Kill it! Before it gets away!”
Ryan holds the shower door open and squints at the floor. “Are you kidding me, Brooks? A fucking spider? That’s why you’re in here screaming bloody murder?”
I try to scoff indignantly, but the creepy crawly sonofabitch is on the move again making me shriek. “Please just get it!” I cower in the corner while Ryan grabs a wad of toilet paper.
He tries to squish it when it darts out from under him, making its way between Ryan’s legs. I yelp as Ryan swears and hops around, trying not to step on it with his bare feet. “Fuck you, you little bastard. Ah, shit! Goddamnit!”
Ryan stubs his toe before launching himself to the ground, barely getting his hand down fast enough to squash the spider beneath the toilet paper. He balls it up and forcefully throws it in the toilet, as if slam dunking a basketball. He flushes and as the water swirls around he extends both his middle fingers to the bowl. “Take that you little shit.”
Now that I know the spider is dead and can regain my composure, I can’t help but laugh at how completely ridiculous this situation is. I hold my hand to my mouth to stifle the giggles, forgetting I’m completely naked until Ryan turns and eyes me lustfully through the glass.
I quickly move to cover myself again. “Ok. You can leave now.”
Ryan crosses his arms and leans against the outside shower wall, facing away but making no move to actually leave. “Really. That’s the thanks I get for saving your life?”
I try to keep the smile out of my voice. “Nice try. That peek is the only thing you’ll get, so enjoy it, pal. Now get out please.”
“Well since you said please . . .” He heads to the door, but before he exits he turns his head to get one last look. I reach for the nearest object—a sopping wet washcloth—and hurl it at him. “Go!” I yell, just as the cloth misses his head when he slips outside and closes the door, laughing the whole time.
By the time I exit the bathroom a half hour later, fully dressed and ready, Ryan is no longer in the room. I pad out to the kitchen and find him looking at his phone. He smiles as he pours me a mug of ginger tea, which I kind of enjoy now.
I grab a yogurt from the fridge and try to open the counter drawer to get a spoon, but it’s stuck. I pull harder, frustrated.
Without saying a word, Ryan leans over the counter and flicks his finger to release a bit of plastic stuck inside. He casually goes back to what he was doing.
I remain still, looking puzzled. He glances up. “I couldn’t sleep last night and installed some baby-proofing stuff around the house.”
I pin him with an open-mouthed stare as I try to understand. “Is that what was in all those packages you’ve had delivered lately?” I grab a spoon from the newly opened drawer and point it at my belly. “You do realize this thing is the size of a lemon right now, right? I don’t think it will be reaching for kitchen drawers anytime soon.” He shrugs and returns to his phone.
I stroll to the living room to eat my breakfast, attempting to conceal a smile. I shouldn’t find this adorable . . . I mean, he’s crazy. I take a spoonful of yogurt and swallow it. I simultaneously try to swallow any feelings that make my heart want to melt. What right does he have doing cute shit like this? The guy needs to lay off the Internet research. I guess it’s nice he’s interested in helping and all, which is the point of me being here, but baby-proofing isn’t necessary for our charade—especially this early—so what kind of crap is he trying to pull? I bet he’s trying to mess with me . . . mock the fact that this is all a big joke. The thought makes me instantly angry.
“By the time our kid is old enough to get into things, this whole pretend family thing will be long over, anyway,” I call from the couch, simultaneously trying to remind myself while also attempting to get a rise out of him as pay back. “Way to go wasting your time and money on that one, pal.”
I can’t tell if he doesn’t hear me or purposely doesn’t respond. Either way I’m left to sulk, feeling lonely and upset.
Ryan
“Favorite movie?”
“Some princess bullshit.”
“Real nice. It’s called The Princess Bride. Favorite music?”
“Anything by Justin Bieber?”
“You really suck at this game, Blake.”
Kelley rolls her eyes as she looks out the passenger window. We’re on our way to her doctor’s appointment, and for some reason she feels the need to test how well I know her. Something about making sure we’re convincing as a couple. Like a stranger will ask whether or not I know her favorite food while we’re waiting in line at the grocery store or some bullshit.
It’s macaroni and cheese, by the way . . . the kind that comes shaped like cartoon characters. She eats that shit by the truckload.
I’m just happy she’s not actually upset anymore. I stopped and got her a strawberry milkshake, because that’s just what you do when you have a pissed off pregnant chick in your truck. That made her go from being the “Ryan is a complete douche who is ruining my life for real” type of mad to the normal “Ryan is pissing me off because he’s an adorable asshole” kind of mad. I’ll take the latter every friggin’ time. It’s one thing to provoke her as a joke, but it’s another to truly screw up. I can’t stand to see that sad fucking look in her eyes, especially if I put it there. How was I supposed to know she was going to get all moody because of some fucking baby-proofing? I may be jumping the gun, but since I have no goddamn clue about all of this responsible parent shit I figured it’s best to get a head start. I’m also fully fucking aware our situation is temporary, which is why it pisses me off when she uses it as ammunition. Just because we aren’t together for real doesn’t mean I won’t have my kid over all the time as she grows up. Or he. I could be down with either. As long as it’s healthy and happy, I don’t care if it’s an alien.
I pull into a parking space outside the Health Center. “Like anyone really gives two flying fucks if I know you listen to Adele when you’re upset.” I put the car in park and remove my keys from the ignition.
Kelley pauses mid-sip. “How do you know that?”
“Because you get upset all the time.”
Her eyes turn to daggers, but I hold my ground. “What? It’s true. Even the mailman made you cry when he delivered someone else’s catalog.”
She looks like she wants to protest, but concedes. “OK, true. But since I’m going to have to push something the size of a watermelon out a hole the size of an olive in a few months, I think I get a free pass.”
I nod in agreement. “Fair enough.”
She smiles triumphantly, takes a final long sip from her shake, unbuckles, and scoots out of the car.
A short while later Dr. Conners meets us in Exam Room Two where she squirts some goop onto Kelley’s stomach. Thank God Brooks doesn’t need to get undressed this time. I’m so keyed up from the no-sex rule that I’d probably get an uncontrollable boner like some horny fifteen-year old. Fuck, just seeing the bare skin of her stomach is enough to make me readjust. She’s been wearing baggy clothes lately, but after this morning I finally got a chance to see the bump she’s sporting. Damn it if it doesn’t make me feel like a smug, proud bastard for some reason.
Dr. Conners plays with some dials on the machine when suddenly a distinct, rhythmic beating fills the room. I’m instantly hypnotized by the raspy measure. I h
ear the doctor mention something about a nice, strong heartbeat, but her voice is distant. Every other thought leaves my brain as each breath is commanded by the only sound I hear—the powerful and steady thump-thump, thump-thump of my baby’s heart.
Our baby’s heart.
Shit just got fucking real.
If I thought seeing the picture last time was enough to pull me under, hearing this has me fucking sunk.
A huge smile spreads across Kelley’s face, making her light up. Her excitement is unmistakable. I know this shit won’t be easy, but suddenly I have no doubts that I will do whatever it takes to take care of my child and the woman it’s growing inside of. I make a silent vow to never, ever walk out on them. We might not be the most conventional family, but we’ll make it work. Even after we end our fake engagement, I’m still going to be a part of their lives. I’m going to be a father.
The best motherfucking father EVER.
Kelley
It’s after ten p.m. when I finally pull my car into the garage. I stayed late at work to make up for the lost time during my appointment this morning. I see Ryan’s truck is already parked.
I enter the apartment to find Ryan with his laptop and some papers on the couch, dressed in sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. His long legs are outstretched, ankles crossed, resting on the coffee table. He’s wearing his glasses, which really isn’t fair. The man’s not exactly hard on the eyes when he’s wearing contacts, but something about seeing him relaxed in glasses adds an extra layer of hotness.
I plop my purse and keys on the kitchen counter and pull off my coat as he greets me. “Hey. I saved some pasta for you. It’s in the microwave.”
“Thanks—we’re starving.” I rub my stomach before pressing a few buttons to heat up the food. When it’s done I grab the bowl and a fork and join Ryan on the couch.
He looks up from the computer screen. “How was work?”
“I told my boss I’m pregnant. He said not to worry about taking maternity leave, but I think he was secretly pissed.” I shove a few pieces of ziti in my mouth. So good. I have to admit it doesn’t suck living with a man who knows how to cook.
“Screw him. If you want to quit I can take care of things. You should be resting more, anyway. He’s an ass for making you stay so late tonight.”
I roll my eyes, hiding a smirk as I shake my head. How come he always manages to sound both protective and condescending at the same time? “I’m fine. You know I love my job. I finally got more responsibility and I’ll prove I can still manage, even while I grow a human being. A few late nights aren’t going to kill me.”
He looks unconvinced, but surprisingly doesn’t argue. He goes back to typing.
“What are you working on?” I ask, poking through some of the papers spilled next to me. As I slide a few papers around, I notice the corner of a small black and white photo clipped to a notepad below. Is that the ultrasound photo? Why the hell would Ryan Blake keep something so sentimental?
I move the rest of the papers to confirm. “What’s this doing here?” I ask, puzzled.
Ryan glances at the photo and shrugs. “I like to keep it as a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?” The biggest mistake of your life? A lump settles in my throat.
“A reminder that I have a chance to do something good in my life.” Hearing something so profound catches me off guard. Ryan and I haven’t talked much about how we feel, but something tells me hearing our baby’s heartbeat this morning affected him just as much as it did me.
I stay quiet, not sure how to respond, while he takes the pile of papers, shuts his laptop and moves it all to his briefcase resting on the coffee table before changing the subject. “I have to ask you something.”
He looks uncharacteristically nervous, which leads me to believe this is serious. I brace myself. “Yeah?”
He shifts to look at me, resting his elbows on his knees with his hands grasped in front of his chin. He lets out a big sigh, dropping his arms. “Will you meet my mom?”
I let out a laugh. “Seriously? That’s it? Jeez, Blake. The way you’re acting I thought it was something bad.”
He leans back. “Clearly you know nothing about my mother.”
I poke around what’s left of my food. “Can’t be worse than mine.” I think of Ryan having to meet my own parents. He thinks my middle name is funny? Wait until he gets the entire Lila and Hal Brooks experience. I cringe at the thought.
“Seriously, Kell. My mother is completely whacked. I told her about us being engaged and the baby and she insisted we come to her holiday party next week. I can only imagine what kind of show she’s going to put on. I’d try to get out of it but my sister, Hazel, and my grandmother really want to meet you. They’re the only two family members I actually give two shits about. At least we can meet the whole big, happy fucking family in one shot and get it over with.”
He looks genuinely agitated, which makes me feel bad. “I don’t mind, Ry. Really. I figured this would have to happen at some point. I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think.”
“I should warn you that my mother is manipulative. She may act nice and sweet, but it’s bullshit.” When I tilt my head questioningly, he explains. “Growing up things were hard. She practically ignored my sister and I after my dad left, which made us act out. She ignored that, too. I was lucky and got myself out of it, but Hazel is still stuck. I try to look out for her, which is why I’m civil, but know that if I could stop from throwing you to the wolves, I would.”
I’ve never heard Ryan open up so much, so I take the opportunity to push further. “Stuck how?”
He pauses, and I’m afraid he’s going to change the subject. He rests his head on the back of the couch before admitting, “When she was sixteen my sister got involved with a bad crowd and started using drugs. She was in really bad shape. I tried to talk some sense into her, but she wouldn’t listen. I begged my mom to get her help, but she refused to acknowledge there was a problem. It got so bad dealing with things at home that I started to drink, and became a fucking alcoholic at the ripe age of seventeen. My sister got in some serious trouble and I was too shit-faced to stop it. A year later I hit rock bottom, went to rehab, and joined AA, thanks to Luc, Eli, and my Grams.”
He grunts cynically and I suddenly feel very sad for him. Why he doesn’t drink suddenly makes a lot more sense. It sounds like there’s a lot more to this story, but I don’t want to push it, so I settle for truthfully saying, “I’m glad you had people to help you.”
“I owe them my life. Luc and Eli have always been there for me, and my grandmother did her best to make sure my sister and I were taken care of. My mom might be her daughter, but I could always tell Grams thought we deserved a better childhood. She secretly loaned me some money so I could get out of the house. It’s then I started working three jobs and put myself through law school and paid her back. When I graduated I threatened my mom that she needed to finally get Hazel into rehab or I would start telling everyone the truth. Not wanting to risk a scandal, she did, and ever since has kept Hazel under her thumb. My sister not only relies on her for money, but she thinks she owes mom for saving her life and is too scared to leave.”
Ryan looks tired, as if admitting all of this has completely drained him. He chuckles before adding, “See? Majorly fucked up.”
I think back on all of the snap judgments I made about Ryan based on his laid back, unfazed demeanor. I stereotypically assumed he was just a pig, but now I realize he has good reason to be the way he is. I don’t know if it’s the hormones or what, but I feel the need to be close and slide over to him.
“Why wouldn’t you tell her the truth?” I ask gently.
“Because I’m just glad she got better and has stayed clean for the past three years. If I tell her, things might go to hell again. Plus, it’s my fucking fault she went through hell in the first place. If I had been there to stop it . . . well shit may have been a lot different.”
The guilt Ryan feels is evident
by the way his entire body slumps down, as if the weight of it all is literally too much for him to bear. I’ve never seen him look so vulnerable, and I want to comfort him. But I’m not sure how so I settle for saying, “Don’t worry. We’ll go to this party and meet everyone and it will be fine. I promise.” I extend the pinky finger of my right hand and hold it out.
He looks at my finger skeptically. I roll my eyes and grab his left hand, hooking my pinky with his while smiling extra wide.
Our fingers and eyes remain locked for a long moment before he finally releases my hand and quickly stands up. “Time to call it a night. I’m beat.” He heads toward the bedroom but turns before rounding the corner of the short hallway. He looks back at me with a small, unsure smile. “Goodnight.”
I smile shyly back. “Night.”
Ryan
Three hours later, I’m still awake. I glance at the clock. It’s after one a.m. Shit.
This isn’t going to work.
I slowly sit up—I heard Kelley come to bed a couple hours ago and I don’t want to wake her. I swing my legs over the side of the bed to rest my feet on the floor. I look to my lap . . . I’m hard as a rock.
Fuck my life.
Hell fuck anything. I need to take care of this.
As I make my way to the bathroom and quietly shut the door I think about how I got myself into this mess. When I suggested Kelley move in, I surprised the hell out of both of us. I really thought I was keeping our kid’s best interests in mind. You know, being helpful by not abandoning them both. Yes, it was also to keep myself from looking like a negligent asshole, but it was practical more than anything.
But now? I don’t know who the fuck I am lately. I stare at my rattled reflection in the mirror. Baby-proofing? Sleeping in the same bed with an attractive woman night after night? Sharing stories about my past? I look down to my tented shorts. Agreeing not to have sex?
I feel like I’m going mad.
For ten years I’ve been extremely careful not to tempt myself with anything remotely habit-forming, but the more time I spend with Kelley, the more I fight that familiar pull. That undeniable, unforgiving addiction that pushes you to give in, even if you know it’s wrong. First it was a bottle of strong liquor that promised the chance to forget my problems, and now it’s a feisty, dark-haired girl that threatens to make me feel things I’ve worked damn hard to keep in check.
Mad Addiction (Crazy Beautiful #2) Page 7
