by Melissa Blue
Iris said, “What look?”
“That rebellious spirit look.”
Iris took a deep breath. “Remember Ashley? She got married a few months back.”
“The one with the smart mouth?”
Iris had brought Ashley to one family dinner. One. Between Iris and her sister, they’d managed to hold Ashley back from going on a tirade that would have ended with her friend ripping her shirt off and saying breasts, clitoris, and vagina like those words were commas.
Jessie snorted. “Yeah. That friend.”
Iris sat quiet for another moment. How could she say the next part and keep things calm. The kids were there. They may be stuffing their faces, but they were listening. She remembered being that young, that innocent.
“Her brother is nice, and we kind of hit it off.”
That wasn’t the lie. They had hit it off. They’d had raunchy sex after having half of a full conversation.
Her father put his fork down. “Are you dating him now?”
There was no way she could answer that without caveats and explanations. “We...uh. I’m pregnant. He’s the father.”
Her father pushed the plate away and folded his hand on the table. The saying ‘you could hear a rat piss on cotton’ came to mind. The girls had stopped their chattering and had their focus on the adult table. Her sister had dug her nails into Iris’s thigh.
Her father’s face was an impenetrable mask. “Is he going to step up?”
Of all the things she thought of Porter, most of them not good, she had no doubt he’d be a part of their child’s life. “He will. He’ll—I know he’s going to be a good father.”
“I guess that’s the best I can ask in your situation.”
She flinched. There were two ways to minimize the berating she’d get for the next few months. Shit, just for five minutes. Iris would take it. She’d lie and live with it. “It’s a boy.”
Her father’s face lit up. “Are you serious? Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure,” she easily lied. Her doctor hadn’t checked yet but it was a fifty-fifty chance. She’d take those odds for a momentary reprieve. “Though you know technology can’t always be one hundred percent at this early of a stage.”
Her father laughed. “Some of the tech I’ve seen, they can determine sex as early as ten weeks.”
“Yeah,” she said, and prayed he didn’t ask just how far along she was.
“I’m going to have a grandson,” he said, beaming.
Iris glanced at her sister, then her nieces, and forced the smile wider. “Yeah.”
The rest of the dinner didn’t go smoothly, but her father was kinder to her. Most importantly, he didn’t ask any more questions.
Jack Frost + Elsa
JUNE
The moment Iris sat down in the waiting room, she hated life. For the past month, she’d felt like that often. Today, though, she'd forgotten to bring her paperback, and her phone was on its last bar.
Okay.
That’s not the only reason she was in a shit mood.
She'd sent Porter the text about the appointment a few days ago and only received one word back—okay. Not like she wanted to see him. His last olive branch had turned into a sobbing session in a restaurant's bathroom. Ashley had called him a good guy, but that proved to be ten kinds of wrong. It wasn't like she wanted Porter to be perfect at every moment in his life.
But was decent too much to ask for?
She shook her head to get the thoughts out of it. There was nothing she could do about it, but forge ahead. And hope he was a better father than a friend or brother. Hope. That’s what her life amounted to at the moment—sitting precariously on a mountain of hope her life wouldn’t blow up in her face.
She checked her phone again. Nothing.
The back door opened and a nurse read the chart. “Bellamy?”
Iris pushed out the chair at the same time the front office doors were thrown open. Porter's gaze fixed right on her, and she tried to breathe. She was having trouble fitting her cute clothes. He'd showed up to her appointment in a three-piece you-should-fuck-me suit.
Asshole.
“Porter,” she said, keeping every ounce of pissed off out of her voice.
“Iris.”
The nurse looked between them. “Are you ready?”
“We are,” she made sure to say in a sugary sweet tone.
“I’m ready,” he added and moved in so close behind her she could feel his breath on her neck.
Her nipples stirred awake, but that wasn't saying much. Thinking about fruit tended to make her nipples hard nowadays. She ignored him and the reaction, following the nurse to the exam room.
Soon they were situated, waiting for the doctor. She wasn't speaking to him and he didn't bother to try to spark a conversation. That was fine with her. She was barely wrapping her head around the fact her baby wasn't conceived out of love, but lust. God, she couldn't even look at him in that three-piece you-should-fuck-me suit knowing just how little he thought of one of the most important women in his life. That for Ashley’s own good, she needed to be controlled.
“Porter...”
Porter leaned back in the chair, crossed his arms and raised his brow. He made insolence look sexy. “Don't do that.”
“What?”
“Start a fight because you’re pissed at me.”
“I wasn’t.” Liar. “I was just going to...” Fucking liar.
He uncrossed his arms and rose from the chair. She hated how tall he was. She was sitting on the exam table. It should have made them eye to eye if he was normal, but she had to tilt her head to meet his gaze.
“You were just what?”
He smelled good, if not better than the last time she’d seen him. “Nothing. My mother taught me violence is never the answer, otherwise I'd chuck something at your fat head.”
“That's fair.” He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “You look good, Iris. I’m happy to see that. I’ve been worried.”
“I can tell by all the times you called me.”
“Didn’t think you’d want me to.”
She hadn’t. She turned her face to break his hold. Porter took that cue and settled back into the chair. He dwarfed it with his long legs, his thick...everything. Her heart beat felt sluggish the longer she was around him.
He brushed his thumb over his bottom lip and held her gaze. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit.” And horny. “But I still only look like I’m bloated from a too-big lunch. That means I can still see my feet. I’m going to take the win.”
His chuckle warmed her and that twisted in her stomach. “Look, Iris, I'm—”
Someone knocked at the door before it opened a second later. Her doctor looked about twelve, had Shirley Temple black curls, brown eyes, even darker skin, and a dimple. “Ms. Bellamy, how are you?” She gasped. “You're showing a little now. I love it.”
“Don’t try to assuage my ego,” Iris said with a smile.
“I’m not. I swear you’ve got a baby bump.”
“My dress is just tight.”
“Fine. I was trying to pump you up. You caught me.” Her doctor glanced at Porter then at Iris. “Am I free to say whatever?”
“Yes, Doctor Fowler.”
“All right.” Her doctor focused on him. “Nice to meet you...”
“Porter, the father.”
“Ah. Nice to meet you.” She offered her hand, and Porter stood to take it. Dr. Fowler’s eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Or just him. She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to Iris. “What are you here for today?”
“I’m here for my monthly checkup, and we find out the sex.”
“We do?” Porter asked then plopped down into the chair.
She gave him a look that said ‘if you had called me you'd have known.’ Then she smiled at the doctor again. “Before you ask, everything is fine. I’m sleeping well. I can eat and hold everything down now.”
The doctor glanced at Porter again and
flushed. “Sex drive?”
Iris said with force, “Fine.”
“Just asking because sometimes you can go from zero to sixty in a flash and stay that way for weeks. It's troubling for some patients. Or it can go the opposite way and you don't want to be touched at all.”
“Zero to sixty,” Porter said, and he shifted in the chair like he had to hide how his dick felt about that news. “Huh.”
He grinned when she gave him another look. “Like I said, doc,” Iris said. “It's all fine.”
“All right,” her doctor said. “You know the drill. Recline on the table and we'll start the exam.”
Iris pulled the dress up to reveal shorts. Nothing fit comfortably but her dress collection. Even some of those had refused the increased bust size. She didn’t dare to glance in Porter’s direction. Bad enough she could feel the heat of his gaze on her stomach.
Iris was semi-saved by the tape-measure of doom. Dr. Fowler checked the chart. “You're about seventeen weeks, correct?”
“Yes.”
“That's the LMP?” Porter asked.
Both women looked at him. The doctor answered. “Yes. Someone's been doing some reading. What To Expect When Expecting? The Internet?”
“No. Trapped into conversations about pregnancy and menstrual periods a year ago. Those kinds of facts stick with you.”
Dr. Fowler laughed. “Yeah. It can.” She focused on Iris again. “We'll check the heart in a minute. Now I'm going to put some gel on your stomach. You're lucky, ours is warm. Do you need me to walk you through the process?”
“No.”
Took a few minutes to get ready. Porter rose from the chair to stand beside her. He kept shifting and that meant his suit jacket brushed against her skin, and she could do nothing but smell him with her almost supernatural sense of smell. It was all sexy man musk. Her nipples were poking again. Soon they'd be able to stab holes in her dress and beg for attention. Her nipples did not care about his dickhead actions or the fact she was at a doctor’s appointment.
Dr. Fowler said, “I'm going to make sure everything is fine with baby first, and then if baby is being cooperative, I'll see if I can tell you the sex. Ready?”
Porter said, “Yes.” He pressed closer.
She focused on the screen. “I’m ready.”
He gasped when their baby came into view. It was very much a baby now with definable arms, legs, and a huge fucking head. She stole a glance at him and had to look away again. She would pretend she hadn't seen the sheen of tears in Porter's eyes.
The doctor laughed. “Look at that heart. It's a beauty. Now if only your baby would sit still.”
Porter shifted again. “Can you feel all that?”
“It's a flutter every now and again.”
He frowned down at her. “A flutter?”
“Have you ever been really nervous and it feels like you've got butterflies? It's like that but stronger.”
“Okay,” the doctor murmured. “Everything looks good so far. Let's check out the sex.”
She held her breath. Just as the doctor swiveled the wand, the baby spread its legs.
Porter laughed, and looked at her with a wide smile. “That's a boy.”
All she could see was the umbilical cord on the black and white screen. Something dark and ugly unfurled inside her. A boy. She hadn’t technically lied to her father. “How do you know?” Iris asked, praying his logic was indeed logical.
“Trust me,” in a knowing male way, “I can spot a—”
“He's right,” Dr. Fowler said. “That's a penis.”
Porter lifted his fists in the air and growled, “A boy!”
Iris did her best to swallow the laugh. His excitement was cute, not at all an affirmation like her father’s had been. It was hard to not feel the same, seeing the joy on his face. She had a feeling he would have showed the same happiness had the baby been a girl. “You really don’t seem pleased by this news, Porter. Show me how you really feel.”
Dr. Fowler put up the wand. “These images are for you, for bragging rights. These are mine. Any questions?”
She waved off the ultrasound pics that Porter reached over her stomach to take. Porter, who she wanted to lick, even as she laid there after hearing about the sex of her baby. Not that she was unhappy with the sex of her child. Or that he was healthy.
But like some screwed up montage, she remembered when Jessie announced a pregnancy. Iris remembered the reveal of the baby’s sex. Her father’s dampened excitement. Iris had lied. Iris would be safe from that reaction because the lie had turned out to be true. She took the offered paper towels and wiped the goo off her stomach.
Her doctor and Porter talked for a while, and Iris tried to shake off her emotions. She did have real worries and questions. One stood out in her mind, because Porter wasn’t her father, but he was too much like him. They both demanded loyalty and when they didn’t get it, they lost their shit.
“Actually,” she said, “Can I have a moment alone with the doctor, Porter?”
He looked between her and the doctor. “Sure. I’ll be at your car.”
After he left, she asked, “Okay. What is this thing about sex drive?”
Iris caught the smile before Fowler schooled her face into her serious doctor one. “It's natural. I promise. Right now you’re storing a lot of blood in every extremity, which makes you more sensitive than normal. That’s not to mention your hormone levels are off the charts.”
“Am I supposed to feel like I want to jump on every single man I meet, because of his scent, his looks, his...he has a pulse?”
Her doctor laughed. “It can feel like that. It'll pass.”
It’ll pass? That sounded so vague and not helpful when Iris had to leave the appointment then stand next to Porter for longer than two minutes. She’d stored up a month’s worth of being irked at the very thought of him, and all those sour as shit feelings had dissolved at the slightest brush of his jacket. She pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose.
He’d proved he was not a good guy.
He’d shown her just how controlling and pigheaded he could be.
Being swayed by his smile and charm was the very reason why she had to sit on an exam table and discuss baby peens.
Hearing it’ll pass did not help one damn bit.
“How long does it last?” Iris muttered.
“Could be anywhere from the end of today to the next five months.”
Her hands dropped and she gawked at her doctor. “Jesus F.”
Her doctor patted her arm. “You're having a healthy, baby boy.”
Who would probably get shaken baby syndrome from her overuse of a vibrator. “I know. I'm ecstatic about it. This is just...”
“Most significant others are very understanding and open to this hormonal change.”
She started to ask when she realized the woman had assumed Porter was going to benefit.
Right.
This was her life.
She was pregnant by a guy she didn’t even have sex with anymore. Iris smiled since getting into it was a long story, and Dr. Fowler was not a therapist. “Yeah. I'm sure he'll be totally fine with this.”
Hawkeye + Black Widow
Porter leaned against Iris's car and stared at the ultrasound. A boy. He had a son.
Fuck it, he was a softie when it came to his baby. If the doctor had told him he had a girl, his heart would have equally melted. Shit, he’d kind of accepted he’d have one since karma wasn’t done kicking his ass. A baby girl would serve him right.
He’d have to learn how to step out of protective mode—the hard way. He’d have to learn how not to put down any rules that would be followed out of blind love for him. A rule that would hurt everyone who followed it. He was smart enough to see that in hindsight. Fuck if he wasn’t done paying for that selfishness.
Yet Porter would have loved his daddy's girl. He would have hunted down anyone who hurt her. He would have wished a part of her had Ashley's spirit. Thou
gh any little girl of his who was anything like Ashley would have sent him to an early grave.
But...Porter had a son. He could teach his son all the things his father hadn't. He prayed his son would never know the bitter taste of betrayal, and never feel the sickening realization he was not a good man, much less a person. His throat thickened and his hands trembled as he stared at...
No matter how many times Porter had laid in his bed at night and wished he had the power to fix the past, he couldn’t, but he could build a better future. He could break out every tool he had to draw a blueprint that seeped its ink into his bones so it was made on a solid foundation.
The crunch of heels against the gravel drew his attention up. The wind tugged at Iris's dress, hugging the small bump underneath the soft material. His heart thudded slow. A woman he barely knew was carrying his future. A woman who was beautiful, smart and strong.
Why wasn't it until now that he thought about how hard this must be for her?
He didn't have a baby doing acrobats in his stomach while trying to come to terms with bringing a human being into this world, with someone she didn’t know or trust. He had to get his shit together, if not for himself, but for her. He didn’t suddenly want to make her his wife. That was reckless and asking for disaster. He just needed to be the man she needed.
Her steps slowed, her gaze wary as always, like at any moment she’d might face a monster. “What's your thing with leaning against people's cars?”
She’d picked levity. Her mouth was smart, and he kind of loved that, because so was his. “Back in 1998 someone told me I looked cool doing it and I haven't stopped since.”
She sniffed to hide her chuckle and the sound came out as a snortle. “I guess.”
She held herself more than an arm’s length away from him, bracing herself. He didn’t want that kind of relationship between them. He remembered that kind of existence all too well before his parents’s marriage had imploded.
His mother and father had tip-toed around each other. Each one waiting for the other shoe to drop. For his father, he’d been expecting any moment he’d be found out. Today would be the day his wife went through his emails or his phone to find the trail of infidelity he almost dared her to find.
