The Marriage Pact: A Baby Romance

by Tia Siren

  “Not at all,” said Bailey. “I really relate to that, actually. There have been guys that were in my life, but nothing ever serious. I haven’t been in a serious thing with anyone since you.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “It’s true. There’s no one like you, Darren Holt.”

  We stared into each other’s eyes, lingering. In that moment, I wanted to grab her, pull her into me, and kiss her passionately.

  “I’ve missed you,” I told her.

  She stood up from her chair, never breaking eye contact. “I keep thinking one of these days I’ll wake up and see you standing there outside my door. Guitar in one hand and a suitcase in the other.”

  She eyed the stage, biting her lip and contemplating.

  Before I knew it, Bailey Wright was on the stage. She’d borrowed a guitar from another bar patron, sat on the stool, and just began playing. She didn’t introduce herself, and the crowd didn’t seem to recognize her.

  She performed “Lovesong,” a song originally by The Cure. Her version was closer to 311’s, which was the one that we used to sing together often. She was enchanting, instantly capturing everyone in the place. No one was talking. Everyone was listening to Bailey and her beautiful singing and playing. I never wanted it to end.

  Bailey Wright’s light shone brightly. The place erupted into applause after she finished, with many shouts of “Encore!” I wanted to kiss her again. I wanted to pull her off the stage and taste her sweet lips.

  She stumbled off the stage, traipsing over toward me. She nearly fell over. I was able to catch her just in time.

  “I’m a little drunk,” she said giggling. “I’m sorry to ask this. But, could maybe you drive me home?”

  “No worries,” I said in her ear.

  “Or maybe you could take me over to your house. What do you think?”

  Chapter 10

  Bailey

  I was close enough to him that I could taste his breath. Even with the whiskey, I wanted to devour his lips. I was craving him. I wanted him to take me back to his house, and I wanted him to make love to me.

  “I don’t mind taking you to my place,” Darren said. “But are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “I’m very sure,” I told him.

  He escorted me out to his Ford Focus. I was so drunk that I could barely stand up straight. As he drove me home, we didn’t really talk. We weakly sang a few bars of a few songs, but I was too drunk to even do that.

  It felt like it only took a minute to get from the bar to Darren’s house. It was a quaint house, but I didn’t truly register it at that moment. All I wanted was his body.

  We got through the door, and we were greeted by a gorgeous Labrador that jumped up and licked me repeatedly.

  “Oh, my God!” I fawned. “He’s so adorable! I didn’t know you had a dog!”

  “His name is Bo,” he told me. “He normally doesn’t come right up to a new person. He must have a good feeling about you.”

  “I’m totally going to steal him just so you know,” I told him as Bo kept giving me love. I kept petting him. “You’re such a good boy, Bo!”

  “He probably wants to pee,” said Darren. “Want to go out, buddy?”

  Bo leaped from me over to Darren, following him out of the house. Bo barely spent any time on the grass doing his business before he was back bounding into the house to return to me.

  “I think he’s choosing me over you, mister,” I said to Darren.

  Darren laughed. “You can’t have him.”

  Time went by in a rapid blur again. I pet Bo for a long time, unsure of where Darren had gone in the house or what he was doing. Before I knew it, I was growing tired. I was leaning against the couch, eyes closing as I rubbed Bo’s thick fur.

  Then, I was up in the air. Darren picked me up and began to carry me from my spot toward his bedroom

  “Aw, were you getting jealous of all the attention I’m giving Bo?” I asked.

  “You need to sleep,” he said.

  “I need a lot of things,” I said as I looked him up and down.

  “You’re too drunk.”

  “You’re drunk, too.”

  “You can’t even walk,” he said. “You’re sleeping in my bed.”

  “With you?” I giggled.

  “I’m taking the couch.”

  “You’re not sleeping on the couch in your own house,” I said. “Come on. Sleep with me, Darren.”

  “I’d love to, but I really can’t do that,” he said as he lowered me onto his big, comfortable bed.

  “Who cares if I’m drunk? I want you under the covers with me. Let me see your tattoos up close.”

  “It would be dangerous if we slept in the same bed tonight.”

  “That’s the idea.” I winked.

  “You’re drunk,” he said. “And, you’ve been through a lot.”

  “Exactly! I need a sweet release. I know you’d give it to me.”

  He looked frustrated. I could tell he wanted to oblige me and do what we both wanted. His chivalry still dictated his actions.

  “I’m not sleeping with you under these conditions, Bailey.”

  “Come on!” I whined. “We always used to sleep in the same bed. Who cares?”

  “I care,” he stated. “Trust me. This is for the best.”

  Before I had a chance to trust him, question him, or even say goodnight to him, I had surrendered to the power of his bed. I passed out as I looked up at his beautiful face.

  I woke up the next morning majorly hungover. My memories of the night before were weak, and I didn’t even realize where I was right away.

  Once it occurred to me that I was in Darren’s bed in Darren’s house, I flung the covers off of me like they were on fire. I looked at my phone, checked my reflection, and flung the bedroom door open.

  I found him in the living room, sleeping on his couch. The blanket he was sleeping with had fallen to the floor sometime during the night. He was breathing heavily, and he still looked gorgeous, even with his mouth hanging open and clothes disheveled.

  I wasn’t looking at him for long before he woke up. He smiled.

  “Morning,” he said.

  “Morning,” I reciprocated. “Last night is kind of blurry right now. I assume since you’re sleeping out here, and I was alone in there, we didn’t?”

  “We didn’t sleep together,” he assured me. “Nope. I dropped you on the bed, and you passed out like twenty seconds later.”

  “Ah,” I said, trusting him. “Ugh, my head is killing me.”

  “Want me to make you coffee?”

  “Actually, why don’t I take you out for breakfast?” I offered. “It’s the least I can do after blowing you off the other day.”

  “I’ll take you up on that,” he said grinning. He grabbed his keys and started putting on his shoes.

  I chuckled. “You’re not going to take a shower or something?”

  “I’m hungry,” he replied. “And, my head is killing me, too. I need some air. Let’s go to Floyd’s.”

  We were quiet on our car ride. Once we found our seat at Floyd’s, we ordered. I got my “country breakfast” that I used to get all the time, and we mostly just sat there and nursed our woes with our breakfast. I was too exhausted to decide on any topic of conversation, and I was grateful that he wasn’t bringing up any of my humiliating behavior from the night before. He seemed grateful that I wasn’t asking him what we’d talked about. I seemed to recall something about lingering feelings he still had for me.

  “So, when are you heading back to Memphis?” he eventually asked me.

  “I’m not sure yet,” I answered. “I kind of don’t want to go back just yet. I’ve got a lot of shit waiting for me there that I’m not ready to confront yet.”

  “Like what?”

  “Recording contracts,” I replied. “Decisions about touring. Work stuff. I don’t want to think about work right now.”

  “I don’t blame you.”

  “I nee
d some time,” I said. “I don’t want to rush back. There are still some things I want to figure out before I get back to work and get distracted.”

  “Such as? What are you going to do?”

  “Well, I’ll have to make a decision about my father’s house,” I said with a weight growing heavier in my chest. “And I don’t know. It has been weird being back here. I feel like there has to be some loose ends I have to tie up.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “Well, if you need any help, you know how to reach me.”

  “Thanks, Darren.”

  “You know,” he said. “If you were still in town tomorrow, there’s a pretty cool thing going on downtown I’d like to take you to.”

  “Really?” I asked smiling. “What would that be?”

  “On Friday nights, they have an event,” he said. “They play live music, have a bunch of food trucks out, and they have beer carts out with different samples of beer. It’s pretty cool.”

  “That sounds too cool for Rome,” I said. “I had no idea that was even a possibility. That couldn’t have been going on when I lived here.”

  “It wasn’t,” he said. “It started about a year ago or so. See what you miss when you aren’t around?”

  “There’s live music and food trucks in Tennessee, too,” I said.

  “It’s pretty cool,” he said. “And, it’s actually music. It’s stuff by artists, not drunk locals.”

  I laughed, playing with my hair anxiously. “Okay! Sounds like a plan.”

  “Don’t blow me off, missy.” He winked. “My heart can’t handle rejection again.”

  “If I’m here tomorrow, I promise I’ll be there,” I said. “I’m wondering how you’ll be able to afford food and beer after you get fired.”

  “Why would I get fired?”

  “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “My shift doesn’t start till noon,” he said. “I think Garrett starts at noon, too. I need to pick him up for work, actually. That’s where I’m headed after this.”

  Darren drove me back to my dad’s house. I expected that he’d be dropping me off, but as we pulled into the driveway, we were both taken aback.

  There was a car parked awkwardly in the driveway that I didn’t immediately recognize, but I’d put it together before Darren had even parked.

  “That’s Garrett’s car,” Darren muttered.

  Fueled by intense curiosity, we leaped out of the Focus and ran into my dad’s house. Clothes were littering the floor in a trail that led to my bedroom.

  “Holy fuck,” I whispered. “Do you think?”

  “Oh, yeah,” said Darren.

  We confirmed our suspicions and looked in the bedroom. Sure enough, there was Garrett and Leah, naked, under the covers. Garrett had his arms wrapped around Leah.

  “Aw,” I cooed. “Look at them.”

  “Nice,” laughed Darren. He went over to Garrett and violently shook him awake.

  “Huh,” stuttered Garrett. “What?”

  “We’ve got work in like thirty minutes, dumbass,” Darren said to him.

  In the space of only ten minutes, Garrett and Leah woke up, got dressed, got presentable, and were stumbling into the living room together.

  “What’s up?” Leah said to us, yawning.

  “You tell us,” I said.

  “She can tell us later,” said Darren. “Garrett, we have to bounce, dude.”

  Although none of us had a proper goodbye, I believed it was an unspoken certainty that we would all meet again soon after that. Leah and I stood in the living room alone, not speaking until we heard their engines revving.

  “You need to spill now,” I demanded.

  “I’m still drunk from last night,” mumbled Leah. “Besides, I want to know what went on with you and your soul mate.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Nothing happened. We went to sleep.”

  “Huh. That sucks.”

  I shrugged. “What do you want to do today?”

  “I figured we were going back home,” said Leah. “We need to get back to Memphis. Get back to work.”

  “I know,” I said dismissively. “But there are a few things I need to get straightened out before I can go back.”

  “I understand,” said Leah. “But, you know we can’t stay here forever.”

  “Oh, Jesus.” I laughed. “I know that. Trust me, I don’t want to stay here forever.”

  “You could have fooled me,” said Leah as she brushed her hair. “You looked like you were melting every time you looked at that man.”

  I ignored her, deciding to use my time and energy into figuring out what I wanted to do with my dad’s house. It wasn’t going to be an easy feat, but that seemed easier to me than figuring out what was going on with Darren and me.

  Chapter 11

  Darren

  Work seemed to move slower than ever on Thursday and Friday. I knew that was because I finally had something I was really looking forward to.

  I wasn’t sure what would come of my evening out with Bailey if anything at all. Was there even something I specifically wanted to happen? I felt lucky that she was still in Rome, able to be taken out for food and beer. Reminiscing with her at Bart’s was fun, and I was hoping that we’d be able to continue on from there.

  I was also thinking about what had happened after I’d let her crash at my place the other night. I couldn’t pretend like I wasn’t still attracted to her, and I’d be lying if I said the idea of us having sex hadn’t crossed my mind. But, even though the thought of us making love again had occasionally strayed into my imagination, I wasn’t going to instigate anything without knowing we’d be okay. I wasn’t only looking out for her feelings; I didn’t want to get hurt, either.

  I changed out of my work clothes and put on a nice pair of pants and a button-up shirt, the usual attire I wore whenever she and I had gone out to things like that before. I drove up to her father’s house and parked, expecting her to come walking out to me.

  As I waited, I thought back to when I’d come here to check on Wayne and what I’d walked into. It was surreal to know that if I were to ever knock on that door again, Wayne Wright wasn’t going to answer. It also made me sad realizing that, most likely, someone unrelated to Bailey was going to be living in that house one day soon.

  Instead of honking my horn or texting her, I decided to do the old-fashioned thing and go up to the door. Just as I was about to knock, Bailey opened the door. I was blown away by how stunning she looked: Her hair was pulled back and curled, she was wearing a short blue dress, and she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said in embarrassment. “I look absolutely—”

  “Gorgeous,” I finished in awe.

  She rolled her eyes but seemed flattered. “Please.”

  “You ready to go?”

  “Hell, no!” she said. “I’m not even close to being ready.”

  “You could’ve fooled me,” I said.

  “You want to come in for a minute?” she asked.

  I smiled. “Sure. And I swear—you look totally amazing.”

  “No, I don’t,” she insisted. “But, thank you.”

  She rushed back toward her bathroom, leaving me to see the changes she’d made to the living room since I last saw it. There were pictures and photo albums everywhere. Clearly, Bailey had been digging through decades of memories in the wake of her dad’s passing. Many of the loose photos had Wayne in them, but as for anyone else in the pictures with him, I was unsure of their identities.

  I found a photo album marked “1995-1999.” I felt sure that I would find pictures of a young Bailey inside, and I wasn’t incorrect in my assumption. I’d seen a couple of the pictures before, hung up around the house. Most of the pictures I hadn’t seen also had Bailey’s mom in them.

  “I’m not a masochist, I swear,” Bailey said as she saw me looking at pictures.

  “There’s nothing wrong with going through memories,” I said. “I’d do the same thing.”

  “I f
ound you in a couple,” she said. “Not in the album you’re looking at. Another one.”

  “I forgot how many pictures your dad took.”

  “If he wasn’t taking pictures, my grandpa was,” she said. “Or my grandmother. After my mom died, I was the one that usually took the pictures.”

  “No one in my family ever took pictures,” I said. “Even I don’t take that many. I’ve never even taken a selfie.”

  She snorted. “Come on. Everyone takes selfies.”

  “Not me,” I assured her. “Honest. I don’t take them. You can look through my phone if you don’t believe me.”

  “That’s just sad!” she said in disbelief.

  “Is it? I always kind of think people are a little self-absorbed whenever they do that. No offense.”

  “None taken,” she said. “Once you start becoming famous, taking selfies is almost a requirement.”

  “Did we ever take any before you moved?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I glanced at a series of pictures of Bailey and her parents at a water park together having fun. Beaming, I closed the photo album.

  “You ready?” she now asked me.

  “Absolutely.”

  There were more food trucks downtown than had ever been there before. The variety was extreme, and the lines getting to any truck were remarkably long. I was happy about both of these circumstances because it allowed us to carry good conversation steadily as we hopped from truck to truck, waiting for several minutes at a time before we could even order our meals.

  “So, do you like working at Mel’s A/C?” she asked me.

  “Sure,” I replied. “I like working with Garrett and the other guys. I get great hours. Make a pretty good salary every year. It’s sweet.”

  “What do you do when you’re not working?”

  I shrugged. “Mostly just chill. Drink a beer, watch TV, play Call of Duty or something.”

  She frowned and scrunched her face.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I guess I’m just curious if that’s what you really want to do.”