Pretty in Ink (Voretti Family Book 3)

by Ava Blackstone

  Time jerked to a halt. It started again, but at half its normal speed, like the whole world was under water. “You have a new place?”

  “It’s not official yet, but my realtor called right before your show with a full price, all cash offer on the house. The buyers still have to do inspections, but that shouldn’t be a problem—the place is in good shape. Once those clear, I’ll put in an offer on that condo.”

  “I see.” The words echoed back to her, elongated and strange. I seeeee.

  “Honey? What’s wrong?”

  “You can’t sell your house!” She shivered in the cool night air. Caleb wasn’t touching her anymore, as if he was afraid to get that close.

  “Why are you so attached to that old place?”

  She tried to find the words to explain, but it was hard, because it wasn’t the house. Not really. It was what the house symbolized. Safety. Stability.

  Family.

  Caleb didn’t see himself in the house anymore, because he’d given up his Captain Integrity persona. And, instead of addressing his doubts and insecurities, he’d hooked up with her. The wild child. The party girl. The woman who would never require him to face his issues, because she’d never want to settle down and have babies.

  Except she did want those things. And she wanted them with Caleb. Who was with her for all the wrong reasons.

  She sucked in a breath.

  Rafe, Alex, her parents—maybe they’d been right. Maybe she had been unconsciously trying to sabotage her relationship with Caleb. For days now, she’d been ignoring the problems between them. Instead of talking to him, she’d practically disappeared, redesigning her entire collection. And all she’d accomplished was a spectacular personal failure. She needed to talk to Caleb. And she needed to do it now. Before it was too late.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  Caleb made a sound—a grimace masquerading as a laugh. “I’m trying to take you home so we can have a drink.”

  “No. I mean, what’s going on with the two of us?”

  “You know.” He cleared his throat. “We’re having a good time. We’re dating.”

  She met his gaze. “I love you.”

  He visibly flinched, like she’d kneed him in the balls.

  Shock. This was what shock looked like.

  She rubbed her hands over her arms, cold despite her bulky knit sweater. Caleb cared for her. She knew that. “I know you’re not ready to say it back. And that’s okay. But I can’t hide what I feel. So now you know.”

  He nodded slowly, still looking shell shocked.

  “I meant what I said about not needing the L word from you. But I do want to know how you feel about me. Because I want more than a good time until my lease goes through.”

  “That’s what you’re worried about?” He looked relieved. “Honey, this is about way more than a good time. You’re my girlfriend, and it has nothing to do with that stupid promise I made you.”

  “So you think we have a future together?”

  “Of course.”

  She couldn’t let herself take comfort in his certainty. Not yet. “One more question.” She forced the words out of her throat. “How do you feel about me being the mother of your children?”

  “Well… I guess…” He swallowed. Cleared his throat. “I don’t know. I haven’t even started thinking about kids.”

  “I’m not talking about right now. I’m talking about years from now, if this relationship works out and we get married.”

  He shrugged, but his fingers tap-tap-tapped against the hood of his SUV, going as fast as her heart. “It’s hard to think that far ahead.”

  “You saved for five years so you could buy that car for cash. Don’t try to tell me you wouldn’t plan ahead for a child.”

  “We’re talking years into the future. A lot can change.”

  “I’m not going to make you sign a contract. I just want to know if it’s a possibility.”

  He looked everywhere but her—the streetlamp, the car parked down the road, the front window of the restaurant, where the wait staff was cleaning up—and her stomach plunged toward the asphalt.

  She knew. She already knew.

  “Honestly?” Caleb asked.

  The masochistic part of her needed to hear the words from his mouth. “Honestly.”

  “I don’t see us having kids.” The words were soft. Gentle.

  She closed her eyes. Sucked in air. Tried to find her balance even though the world was upside down.

  “You’re a free spirit, Liv. That’s what I love about you. You’re fun and spontaneous, and I never know what you’re going to do next. When I’m with you, I feel like it’s okay to be the person I really am. But bringing kids into the mix would change everything.”

  “It doesn’t have to. Not in a bad way.”

  “Once you bring another life into the world, it has to be your priority. Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  “I know that.” Her voice was thin and shrill, and there was nothing she could do about it. It was all she could handle to keep the tears at bay. “I can be responsible.”

  “Sure, but—”

  “I’m about to open a business, and I’m not half-assing it. I have a business plan with revenue projections and market analysis and…”

  Caleb’s expression jarred her out of her thoughts. He wasn’t even looking at her. He was staring to her left, lost in his own head.

  No—that wasn’t true. Though he wasn’t looking into her eyes, he was looking at a part of her. Her left arm, to be precise.

  Her wide-necked sweater had slipped over her shoulder, revealing the name inked onto her skin. He was staring at her tattoo.

  She glanced away, but she couldn’t unsee the look on his face. Couldn’t deny what it meant. It didn’t matter that she’d been working overtime at Hannigan’s. It didn’t matter that the only drink she’d had in the last week had been half a glass of wine at family dinner. It didn’t matter that she’d redone her entire collection. All he saw was that one word that would never come off her skin.

  A terrible pressure formed behind her eyes.

  “Liv, honey, I know you’re responsible.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  “I shouldn’t have put this on you. It’s about me. I don’t want kids.”

  He spoke with perfect sincerity. He truly believed what he was saying, and she could no longer stop the tears from falling.

  She turned away so that he wouldn’t see. If he tried to comfort her, it would break her.

  This was the man who’d spent the last six years fixing up his house to be the perfect place to raise a child, bought the SUV with the top rear-seat safety ratings, and even acquired a dog, but he couldn’t acknowledge the real reason behind it all. How could she hope he’d see her, when he couldn’t even see himself?

  She swiped the moisture from her cheeks. Turned back to face him. “You don’t know me. You don’t even know yourself.”

  “I’m trying.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s why I’m selling the house. I don’t want to pretend I’m someone I’m not.”

  “You’re selling the house because you’re afraid. Because you have twenty-five years of repressed anger and issues from your parents—whose asses I wish I could kick, by the way—but you don’t want to talk about any of that.”

  “I told you about my parents.”

  “You told me your dad hit you once. But, Caleb, you lived with those people for eighteen years. Even though that’s the only time he hit you, you can’t tell me it’s the only time he hurt you.”

  “They were terrible parents, okay? But it’s over. I got through it. There’s no point in dredging up the past.”

  “It’s sabotaging our future!”

  “There’s nothing in the way of our future.” He spoke in that too-slow, too-calm voice, like he was trying to talk a crazy person off a ledge.

  “Yes there is! There’s a huge block and you can’t even see it. No—you refuse to s
ee it.”

  “Calm down, honey. It’s been a long night. Let’s go to bed, and if you still want to talk in the morning…”

  “I want to talk now.”

  “Well, I’m tired. I’m going home, and then I’m going to sleep.” He turned away, like that was that.

  Her whole body ached, like she’d just weathered a high-speed collision. Her hopes and dreams smashing into reality.

  She couldn’t fight Caleb’s demons for him, and he wasn’t going to pick up a sword and do it himself. Not now, not ever. “Then I’m done.”

  He turned back toward her. The pain in his expression cut into her, but it didn’t matter. She was already bleeding.

  “Are you…” He swallowed. “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “I don’t want it to be this way. I want you to talk to me.”

  He stared at her like he was trying to find the right words, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was, “I don’t have anything else to say.”

  “Then we’re done.” She was cold. So cold she could barely force the words through her chattering teeth. “Goodbye.”

  CHAPTER 21

  “DAMN, DUDE.” RAFE pushed inside the door Caleb had barely cracked open, Becca in a carrier strapped to his chest. “You look terrible.”

  Caleb kept the door open for his friend’s imminent departure, not bothering to pretend to be hospitable. He didn’t want Rafe in his house. And he definitely didn’t want little Becca, who was gumming her finger and squealing ecstatically and staring at him with wide eyes the exact same shade as Liv’s, breaking through the numbness that had sustained him in the thirty-four hours since Liv had walked out of his life. “This isn’t a good time.”

  “Why? Am I interrupting your morning self-pity session?” Rafe set Becca on the rug, right next to Max. Baby and dog eyed each other like enemy combatants, trying to figure out whether it was better to strike or run.

  “We all heard Liv dumped you,” Rafe continued, oblivious to the showdown. “Is that why you haven’t been answering your phone?”

  “Hey!” He snatched Becca up before Max took off her head with one bite. “Keep an eye on your kid. This house isn’t childproofed.”

  He tried to give Becca back to Rafe, but his friend dodged the handoff, kneeling down to pet Max. “He wasn’t gonna hurt her. Were you, boy?”

  “He doesn’t like kids.”

  “He just needs to get to know her.” Rafe got up, but instead of taking Becca, he opened the messenger bag slung over his shoulder. It looked like a laptop carrier, but instead of a MacBook, Rafe pulled out a bottle. “She shouldn’t need to eat until I get back, but here’s some formula in case of emergency. And those puffs she likes.”

  “Whoa. Hold up.”

  “Here are some diapers and wipes. You’ve gotta wipe from front to back. You know that, right? Here’s a change of clothes. And this is Bono.” He brought out a rubber thing that might once have been a giraffe. “Becca likes to chew on him. Don’t you, Buttercup?”

  “Ba.” Becca released a gallon of drool along with the word, nailing Caleb on the shoulder.

  “If this is your fu—” He glanced at Becca. “Your messed up way of trying to cheer me up, forget it. I don’t babysit.”

  “It’s an emergency. Jen is sick, and I can’t find a sitter.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “No time. If I don’t leave in exactly two minutes, I’m gonna miss my presentation for the shareholders meeting. And how would that look right after my promotion?”

  “I don’t know how to take care of a baby.” He shoved Becca at Rafe, but the jerk walked right past him, hands at his side, knowing Caleb wouldn’t drop her.

  “I’m serious. I’ve never even changed a diaper.”

  “That’s what the internet is for. I’m sure there’s a how-to video somewhere.” Rafe reached the door and walked right through.

  Panic blasted through the last of Caleb’s numbness. “Get your ass back here! I’m not taking her.”

  Becca’s eyes widened. She stuck out her lower lip and whimpered.

  Rafe finally turned around. “Nice, dude. Real nice.”

  “See? I told you I’m no good with kids.” Caleb hurried down the walkway to Rafe, but the jerk still wouldn’t take Becca. “Come on. We both know you’re not really going to leave your only child here.”

  Rafe sighed. “When was the last time I asked for a favor?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I’m asking. I need you to do this.”

  Becca fussed some more, clearly not happy with the way the conversation was going, and Caleb tried to find some way to get out of babysitting duty without being a complete ass.

  And came up empty.

  Okay, this wasn’t as bad as it seemed. As soon as Rafe was gone, he’d call Antonio and Francesca. They were ten minutes away. Becca probably wouldn’t have any life threatening mishaps in ten minutes. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  “Thanks, dude.” Rafe jogged to his car without a backward glance.

  Caleb shifted Becca awkwardly, trying to keep hold of her as he got his cell phone out of his pocket. It was way harder than it looked when Rafe or Jen did it.

  Rafe pulled away from the curb, and Caleb lost no time speed-dialing Becca’s grandparents. No answer. He left an urgent voice mail, in case they were screening their calls. Then he tried a few other Vorettis—even, in desperation, Ella.

  Nothing.

  Becca made a noise—not quite a cry, but a definite prelude.

  Uh oh.

  “What’s wrong?” He lifted her by her armpits so that he could examine her expression up close. The kid was definitely pissed. Her face was as wrinkled as a ninety-year-old’s, her lower lip was bulging, and her eyes were welling with moisture. And he didn’t have the first fucking clue what to do about it.

  She grabbed his hair and pulled. Hard.

  “Ow! Let go!”

  For a little thing, she had a solid grip. He reached up and pried her fingers open as gently as he could.

  “Waaaah!” she screeched.

  She couldn’t be hungry yet. Which left…

  “I guess it’s time to change your diaper.”

  She wasn’t happy with his assessment, if her cries were any indication.

  “You’re upset? I’m the one who has to touch another person’s feces.”

  He hurried back to the house, shut Max in the kitchen, and laid Becca on the rug in the living room. She was full-on wailing now, like she was being tortured, even though he hadn’t even started.

  He tried to pull up the browser on his phone, but it was frozen. Sweat pooled at the back of his neck. Why hadn’t Rafe explained how the diapers worked? What kind of dad left his baby with someone who’d never changed a diaper?

  Becca’s face was bright red and she was crying so hard she didn’t seem to be breathing. Could a baby cry herself to death?

  “Come on, Becs, you gotta calm down.”

  But he couldn’t even calm himself down, and Becca knew it. She screamed even louder, kicking and punching at some invisible opponent.

  He had to do something.

  “Okay.” He grabbed a diaper and the wipes. Then he grasped the leg of Becca’s pants and pulled.

  It didn’t budge. The damn thing was attached to her shirt.

  Wham. She landed a solid kick on his arm.

  How was he supposed to get to her diaper? No way was that whole outfit coming over her head.

  He tried to reason it out, but his brain was jumping from thought to thought so fast he couldn’t catch up. He’d have to cut the pants off, that was all.

  Except, Becca wouldn’t lie still long enough for him to pick her up, much less operate a pair of scissors. She kicked and squirmed, flailing her limbs so randomly it was like a mad scientist was jabbing into her brain with electrodes just to see what happened.

  He finally caught her foot—and noticed the row of snaps lining the underside of her pants.
/>   Okay. That was good. He could handle snaps.

  He pulled them open and flipped the pants out of the way, revealing a bulging diaper. Becca wailed louder.

  “Are you cold? It’s not that cold in here.” But maybe it was, for a baby.

  No. Rafe would have told him if he’d needed to turn up the heater. Except, Rafe hadn’t even told him how to change a diaper.

  “Okay. I’ll do this fast.”

  The diaper actually looked pretty self-explanatory, thank God. He undid the tabs and grabbed a handful of wipes.

  What had Rafe said? Wipe from front to back? Or was it—

  Becca kicked the mess he was supposed to be cleaning.

  “Stop! Freeze!”

  She listened as well as a hopped up dealer fleeing the cops with his stash. And by the time he caught her legs, he was panting like he’d chased said dealer twenty blocks uphill.

  “Waaaah!”

  “Sorry. Sorry. Didn’t mean to yell. I’m not mad at you.”

  Becca’s scream drowned out his apology.

  “Okay. I’m hurrying.”

  It was hard to use the wipes with Becca thrashing around, but he finally got her clean. He rolled up the dirty diaper and fastened a clean one on.

  He pulled in a breath. Becca’s little legs stopped pumping, but she was still crying—not as loud as before, but he didn’t delude himself into thinking she was any less upset. She’d just tired herself out.

  He ran to the bathroom and washed his hands as fast as possible, worried Becca would find something to choke on or an electrical socket to stick her finger in while he was out of range. On the positive side, she stayed exactly where he’d left her. On the negative, she was still doing exactly the same thing too— bawling her eyes out.

  “You, uh, want this giraffe thing?” He tried to hand the toy to her, but she batted it away. Ditto her pacifier.

  His head pounded. His internal organs were in the middle of a mixed martial arts cage match. “What do you want?”

  She stared at him imploringly, even as she wailed hoarsely.

  He wanted to cry too. “I’d give it to you if I knew what it was. Swear to God, Becs.”

  She grasped his sleeve. Pulled, like she was trying to get closer.

  He hesitated, but she only pulled harder.