by Gage Grayson
But at the end of the day, that’s what it would be: a lie. And who would want to lay claim to a child who isn’t theirs by blood?
Nobody in this small town—that’s for sure. Maybe somewhere like New York, there would be. Though, if I were in New York, I’d be with Dylan, and I wouldn’t have this issue in the first place.
“Brooke.”
I’m startled out of my confused and anxious mind immediately, and I turn on the street to see who spoke.
It’s Matthew.
I was wondering when I’d hear from him, though, admittedly, my phone has been off to avoid any such conversations for a while.
I give him a small smile.
“Hey, Matt. I take it you heard.”
“I called you…so many times.”
“My phone was off,” I laugh nervously. “Just needed some time to process things, but then everyone found out so fast.”
To my surprise, Matt isn’t angry. He nods his head in understanding. He gestures towards the nearby diner with his thumb.
“Can we talk, Brooke? Somewhere a bit more private?”
“Of course. And I could do with some fries, anyway.”
Once we’re seated in the diner, facing one another, Matt opens his mouth to speak, but I cut straight through him.
“The baby isn’t yours, Matt. I’m sorry.”
His face crumples in sorrowful disappointment.
“You sure?”
“I’m really not that far along. It could only be his,” I tell him with a nod.
I don’t mention his name, but we both know who I’m talking about.
Matt looks as though he’s been forced to chew on a lemon, but then he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and composes himself.
“That’s okay, Brooke. Nobody’s perfect.”
I can’t help but let out a bite of mirthless laughter.
“You’ve got that right.”
A few minutes of awkward silence pass as the waitress brings over our fries and milkshakes, and we tentatively consume them.
Matt breaks the silence first.
“This reminds me of high school.”
“I suppose it has been a long time since I’ve gone out for some fries and a shake.”
“I’ll do it.”
I look up at Matt, confused. “You’ll do what?”
He smiles hopefully. It painfully reminds me of a Matthew Dunn almost half his current age: wide-eyed and full of dreams of being the star quarterback.
“I’ll raise the baby with you…if you’ll have me. We can pretend I’m the father. If it means I can be with you…if it means I can have a family with you…I’ll do anything.”
I’m speechless. It’s the most sentimental—the most honest and humble—thing I’ve ever heard Matt say.
I know, more than anyone, how much Matt would have to swallow his pride to even consider doing something like raising Dylan Andrews’ baby.
It makes me realize how mature Matt can actually be—when he tries.
And with him having a good high school pedigree and with his job as chief of police, I couldn’t really ask for a better male role model for my child.
At the very least, Matt wouldn’t be absent. And he would put his family before anything. He’d put us before anything.
“Will you think about it, Brooke? You don’t need to answer me now. But this…this could be what you need, to forget about that bastard and just get on with your life. I’ll love the kid like my own. I swear. Just…let me prove myself to you.”
And, looking at his earnest face, I’m so terribly tempted to agree on the spot.
But I can’t.
“Matt, I—”
He can tell what I’m about to say simply by looking at my face.
“Won’t you even consider it, Brooke?”
I shake my head sadly.
“I can’t raise my child in a loveless relationship, Matt. Maybe, at some point in the past, we loved each other, but I don’t love you now. And deep down, I don’t think you truly love me, either. You’re just trying to do the right thing for me, which is amazing, and I thank you for it, but this isn’t right. And it will never be.”
I can see Matt is fighting to keep his temper in check.
“You love him, don’t you? The son-of-a-bitch who ran off…”
I feel like crying just thinking about it.
“I don’t want to be. I just want to get over it.” I hate how small my voice sounds.
“Are you going to tell him about the baby?”
“No. I can raise my baby on my own. I don’t want him to come back merely out of some kind of obligation.”
Matt smiles, seemingly satisfied that at least I’m not pinning all my hopes on Dylan.
There’s a pause.
“You know that if you ever need me for anything, I’ll be there in a second, Brooke.” He takes my hand in both of his and squeezes it gently.
I give him a genuine smile.
“I know. That means a lot, Matt. Now, shouldn’t you be getting to the station? You’re on late shift, aren’t you?”
Matt lets go of my hands and laughs. “How do you know my schedule?”
I roll my eyes dismissively. “Aw, come on, Matt. The whole town practically knew about my baby before I did myself. Everyone knows the chief of police’s schedule.”
Matt chuckles, then he stands up from his seat to put his jacket back on. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll…see you around.”
“You can treat me to a non-alcoholic beer at The Touchdown this weekend when you’re in.” I grin.
Matt returns the smile. “I think I can wrangle that. Have a good day, Brooke.”
And with that, Matthew Dunn leaves the diner, leaving me to stew in my thoughts.
I’d never have expected Matt to be so mature about the whole situation. And yet, here he is, proving me wrong.
And if Matt can prove me wrong, it makes me think…
No. I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
Dylan isn’t coming back. Why would he? And if he comes back upon finding out about the baby, out of a sense of duty, I’d feel even worse.
I want him to want a family with me. I don’t want it forced upon him.
Which means that, at least to one member of our small, gossipy town, the secret of my pregnancy shall remain exactly that. A secret.
And I’ll do just fine on my own.
I always have.
Chapter 35
Dylan
“So, the case with Earlstein and Walker is done then?”
The smug satisfaction coming from Victor Emmerich is contagious to everyone but me, it seems. The old man—as Victor is the oldest of us all—is nearly foaming at the wrinkled mound of flesh he calls a mouth.
“Yes. That’s another win for the firm, and the payday is quite substantial. Not nearly as much as when Dylan won the Bowler case, but then I doubt that figure will ever be topped,” Roland praises.
“Any other business, then?” McDowell asks as he sets down his tea.
“No, that’s all on the docket for today. I say we take a break, gentlemen, and go play some golf.”
Roland’s suggestion is met with a round of approval from the rest of the partners—all except me.
Being a partner certainly doesn’t come without its perks, but since becoming one, I’ve spent more time in meetings, talking about everyone else and their caseloads. And cases that would have been assigned to me are now given to lawyers who—while talented in their own right—are not nearly as proficient as I am in the courtroom.
But being a partner means I need to carefully pick and choose cases. I can’t just take them all on. I haven’t been a partner for a week, and I already miss being a lawyer.
“Care to join us…partner?” Roland asks with beaming smile.
“I would love to, but there are still some cases I’m transitioning over to Miles that I need to finish up. Otherwise, he’s going to completely fucking blunder them and ruin my reputation.�
�
It’s a lie. Miles already has everything he needs to see the cases through—and win. Even my jovial, nonchalant tone is a lie.
What it really boils down to is, my head isn’t in the game. Not since leaving Texas.
Not since I left Brooke.
“Well, hopefully you can get that done so you can come join us on the back nine,” Victor declares.
“I’ll see what I can do, but I’d hate to have to show you up and kick your asses,” I falsely joke.
“Dylan, you’ve never beaten any of us in a round of golf,” Roland quips.
“That’s because you were my bosses. Now that I’m partner, I’m not about to let your old, wrinkly asses win anymore.”
All three men laugh, and I put on a fake smile.
“Alright. Well, gentlemen, let’s go hit the green.”
The three men get up from their chairs and head out of the boardroom, laughing and talking among themselves.
I remain seated in my chair. My fingers glide over the stubble of my cheek as I gaze out over the Manhattan skyline.
Another perk of being partner is the view. And the firm of Parker, McDowell, Emmerich & Andrews has the best view of any law firm in all of New York state—and the Eastern Seaboard for that matter.
After what feels like forever, I get up from the conference table and make my way down toward my corner office.
I’m greeted immediately by Lisa as she gives me a small stack of documents that I had requested earlier in the day and some messages.
“Hey, boss? Are you okay?”
“Huh? Oh! Yes, just…we’re not in Kansas anymore, Lisa. And sitting in a boardroom with a bunch of old fossils gets pretty stuffy.”
Lisa grins at me and tries not to laugh at my joke, but she fails.
“Just let me know if you need anything,” she says as she returns to her desk.
I slip inside my new office and close the door shut behind me. I find myself slumping down into my large leather chair and letting my chin rest against my fist.
I find myself slumping down into my large leather chair and letting my chin rest against my fist. The image of Brooke peacefully sleeping fills my thoughts. The way her hair falls against her face and how she always has one leg exposed over her duvet are seared into my mind. Even thinking about her rhythmic, relaxing breathing makes me smile.
I fish my cellphone from my pocket and pull up Eric’s number. Sometimes, even a hotshot lawyer like me needs counsel.
“Hey, Pickle, didn’t expect to hear from you so soon, buddy.”
The sound of Eric’s ever so happy-go-lucky tone is enough to help shake this funk of a mood I’m in.
“Hey, Big Mac. How are things back home?”
“You mean how’s Brooke, right?”
I swear, this guy could put Dr. Phil out of work.
“Yeah.”
“Well, your exit made quite some waves, buddy.”
“What can I say? I like to make sure that my exit is just as grand as my entrance.”
“Isn’t that the understatement of a lifetime.”
“But seriously, how is she?”
“Getting better. Things could be worse.”
I’m relieved to hear the news. Though my intent was never to hurt Brooke, I did. And it’s a relief to hear that she’s doing good.
“Between us, I’m heading back to Texas.”
There’s a long pause on the other end, but I can hear Eric’s smile through the phone.
“You’re moving back?”
“Oh, no. I just…I want to try to convince Brooke to come back here with me. After everything Pops told me—”
“What did your dad tell you?”
“Turns out the whole merger between FHS and LHS was all just a ploy to get Brooke and me back together.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
Eric sounds partly pissed off, but mostly amused and impressed.
“Yeah. Turns out he didn’t want the school grounds anyway as it’s a horrible location for the complex, which he’s still building, but just closer to the town’s center.”
“Wow…I…I don’t know what to say to that. Like, one hand, I’m pissed that he put us all through that just to make you see the truth about you and Brooke. But, on the other, that’s some Bond-villain-level of fucking romantic brilliance that I wish I thought of.”
I spin around my chair to enjoy my Central Park view as I grin at Eric’s unabashedly honest statement.
“Well, it did work. It did make me realize that I do love and need Brooke. Fuck, it’s always been Brooke. Always will be. And Mom knew that.”
“Meredith?” Eric’s confusion bleeds through the phone.
“Yeah. Pops did it all, but it was actually all Mom’s plan.”
“No way!”
Eric exclaims so loudly, I have to move the phone away from ear to prevent deafness. But it does make me laugh, genuinely, for the first time, since returning to the Big Apple.
“So, I’m going to fly back down on the weekend and talk with her.”
“That’s a great idea. And who knows, maybe now that you guys have a baby on the way, she’ll actually consider it.”
I feel the warmth leave my body as everything goes tingly numb, and I’m thankful that I’m already sitting down.
Did he just say “baby on the way” or am I hearing things?
“Hey, Pickle? You still there?”
I don’t even realize that nearly a minute has passed by in silence.
“Eric, did you just say Brooke is pregnant?”
This time, it’s Eric who’s responsible for the long pause between us.
“You…uh…didn’t know, huh?”
“No, I didn’t. Is she sure—”
“That it’s yours? Oh, yeah. She and Matt hadn’t been doing the horizontal mambo in months before you showed up.”
“Jesus…”
“I’m sorry, man. I thought Brooke would’ve called or text by now to tell you.”
“No, Mack. Please. You’ve got nothing to apologize for. I’m thankful to know the truth. Can I give you a call in a bit? I need…I need to make some changes to my plan and grab a drink.”
“Of course, let me know when you’re coming down.”
“Will do.”
I hang up the phone and rest my chin against the side of it. I’m gripping it so tightly that my knuckles are starting to turn white.
How could Brooke not tell me? How could she keep this from me?
I’m overtaken with anger, frustration, and pain. But I’m also enveloped with a sense of happiness and pride.
After all, I’m going to be a father.
Chapter 36
Brooke
The one thing they don’t warn you about when you’re pregnant is the craving. You always hear about the morning sickness, but the cravings are so drastically underrated.
It’s like, once Monday morning came around, my taste buds completely rearranged themselves. And not necessarily for the better either. Coffee has been completely ruined for me, thanks to this baby.
And now, I always want wings, which has led me to eat at The Touchdown every day this week so far, so I can indulge in that craving.
Jessie and Eric don’t seem to mind, especially since they’ve gotten to use me as a guinea pig for some of their new flavors. They get a flavor tester, and I get wings. It’s a win-win, really.
“Seriously, Brooke? Another order?”
The slurping sound of licking and sucking my fingers clean should be a good enough answer for Jessie, but she still looks at me dubiously. I don’t blame her, considering I’ve just demolished my second pound of wings.
“Yes, another order.”
My fingers wrap around my cold glass of chocolate milk—another one of my cravings—and I drink nearly all of it in one giant gulp.
“Alright. You know, if I hadn’t seen you eat this much before, I’d be a little worried.”
“I ended up missing lunch today, a
nd I’m super fucking hungry right now. And besides, that cool ranch dry rub is incredibly fucking tasty.”
“Oh, you like that one?” Jessie coos excitedly. “That was my suggestion. Eric didn’t think anyone would like it.”
“Well, he’s wrong. It’s amazing. Hell, make this order an order of that.”
“You know, this is why we’re besties. You continuously prove me correct and keep the universe in working order.”
I reach across the bar and grab Jessie’s hand as we share a smile. But the moment I do, she yanks her hand back with a laugh.
“Brooke, your fingers are still wet.”
“Yeah, because I don’t have any wings in them. Chop, chop.”
Had I used that line on anyone else, they’d likely think I was being an inconsiderate, insufferable patron. But Jessie’s known me long enough to know it’s all in good fun. Of course, she hasn’t had much of a choice, considering I’m her best friend and Eric is her fiancé.
Then, almost as if he knew I was thinking about him, I see Eric’s silhouette in the mirror as he appears in the entrance behind me.
Eric strolls over to the bar, but instead of taking a seat beside me, he walks around to the other end. It’s nothing out of the ordinary—it makes sense he would want to greet his blonde bombshell of a woman with a kiss first and foremost—but then he stops at the opposite end of the bar from me so that the wooden surface is between us.
The look on Eric’s face makes me worried, and I quickly down the rest of my chocolate milk, as if it will provide some kind of preemptive comfort.
“Hey, baby, what are you doing here so early?”
Jessie’s arrival does nothing to change the expression on Eric’s face, and it has me feeling more worried than before. She seems to notice his unusual demeanor as well, and her own smile fades and shifts to one of concern and piqued interest.
“Eric, what’s going on?” Jess asks as she tilts her head to the side and reaches up to rub his shoulder.
“So…um, Dylan—”
“Oh, God! Is Dylan okay? Is Henry okay?”
I don’t know what caused me to just randomly blurt that out, or why my first thought is that something happened to Dylan, but I did. And I’m relieved when Eric shakes his head.
“What? No. Nothing like that. Both Dylan and Henry are okay. Unless something has happened in the last hour that I don’t know about.”
