by Jennifer Ann
Maybe Nolan isn’t such a bad guy after all. Shaking off the residual anger from my run-in with Freddie, I cross the room to grab my duffle bag. Leaving this gym feels like another difficult goodbye I’m not ready to give. It was a welcome escape from all the bullshit dragging me down.
Nolan steps in beside me as I head for the exit. “What’s with you and Freddie?”
With the mention of the asshole’s name, my veins heat up once again. “You know him?”
“Every now and then he shows up in the jiu-jitsu circuit. The guys a reputation for being an asshole to everyone he fights and doesn’t know what he’s doing. Some boxers can transition over without too much trouble, but Freddie has a lot to learn. You, on the other hand, show a lot of potential based on what I just saw.”
“Don’t know anything about it. I was a wrestler in high school. Sometimes that training kicks in.”
Nolan pulls a key fob from his pocket and stops to unlock a newer BMW, tipping his chin my way. “When you come back to the city, have Sharlo give me a call. If you’re interested, I’d be willing to work with you on some jiu-jitsu moves. There’s good money to be made in the MMA circuit.”
Crossing to the passenger’s side, I grunt. “Don’t know that I’m coming back.”
Nolan stares at me over the car’s roof, rubbing his jaw. “Have you told Sharlo that?”
Without answering, I slip inside. Since he’s a good friend of hers, he’s probably ready to launch into a speech about fucking with her and I’m in no mood for that shit. Hurting her is the last goddamned thing I would ever want to do.
Nolan plops down into the driver’s seat, tight-lipped when he shoots a dark look my way. “Shar’s not like most girls. Ever since that Richard fuck cheated on her, she’s tried to keep it casual with guys. She doesn’t want to get attached to anyone because she's worried they’ll take off. She won't admit it to anyone other than me and her therapist, but she has abandonment issues. Her mom split the country without her and her dad was never around. It’s the only reason she kept taking Richard back. Some twisted part of her thought he was the best she could do. I know she comes off as being tough, but there’s a vulnerable side to her that she goes out of her way to hide from everyone, including me. If you want to be with her, you’re going to have to prove you’re not some random dickhead who’s going to just walk out of her life. You’ll have to fight hard for her, James—probably harder than you've fought for anything in your life.”
Though I already caught on that Sharlo wasn’t as tough as she lets on, I feel like a massive jerk for basically walking out on her when it seems that’s her greatest fear. Maybe it's best that I’m leaving the city since I’m proving to be the kind of guy who’s willing to leave without looking back.
Chapter 13
SHARLO
Allowing James to leave the city without falling to my knees and begging him to stay was one of the hardest experiences I’ve ever endured. It’s undeniable I think of what we have as something far beyond a simple affair, though I’m not exactly sure how to define it either. What we had was beautiful, though we both knew it was temporary. He had little to say after asking me to accompany him back home, making it clear his family’s business is his priority. That’s not something I can ask him to walk away from with a clear conscience. Unfortunately my wanker-of-a-conscience was also quick to remind me that I’m going to have some hard and fast decisions to make if I’m carrying his unborn child.
James texts to let me know he made it safely back to their ranch. The message is short and cold, with no mention of how he felt about our short time together or how he wishes things could be different. It would seem he’s moving on, leaving me to struggle with the idea that things between us may not work out the way I had hoped.
The first few days after he’s gone, I’m able to keep myself occupied by working double shifts at the gallery, sketching out new designs for our Rocker Chique line, shopping for material in the Garment District, daily luncheons with Nolan, scheduling extra appointments with my therapist, and taking video calls from Evelyn as they work their way across the country on Charlie’s tour.
Every bloody time my phone rings—which is much more than usual—I dive for it like a complete nutter, thinking James has rung to say he’s decided to come back. But I seem to have made some juvenile’s prank list as there’s no one on the other end, and the calls are all originating from a blocked number. There’s one exception on the rare occasion when Mum rings. I wouldn’t have answered the call had I not known she was still out of country and figured she had once again changed her number without telling me. I was right.
Mid-week when I meet Nolan for dinner at our favorite rooftop restaurant, there’s a glass of champagne waiting beside the empty setting. Always the perfect gentleman, he hurries around to kiss my cheek and pull my chair out.
As he reclaims the seat across from me, his handsome face lights with a smile brighter than the city skyline to his back. He’s maddeningly attractive in a sports coat and pin-striped dress shirt, so it’s no surprise when I catch an entire table of middle-aged women throwing lustful glances his way. A person would have to be completely blind not to appreciate his good looks.
“Glad you’re here, Shar. I ordered a bottle of their best bubbly to celebrate.”
I wrap my fingers around the smooth glass stem. My stomach churns at the idea of drinking even the smallest bit of alcohol with the likelihood that I’m pregnant. I’ll be damned if I’m going to be responsible for messing up the poor child’s noggin. It will already have enough of a struggle with a mum who can’t get her shit together.
“And what are we celebrating exactly?” I ask.
Nolan settles back against his chair with the kind of smoldering look that, for a short time, made me long to be more than his good mate. His free hand strokes his well-trimmed beard and a cocky little grin quirks his lips. “To being the kind of friends that can tell each other everything.”
I prop my chin with my fist and narrow my eyes. “Something you’d like to ask?”
“You always have a drink when we get together for lunch, but you haven’t had one in days. What gives, Shar?”
“Simply because I’m not in the mood to get intoxicated you’re to assume there’s something I’m not telling you?”
Nolan’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you going to sit there and pretend I don’t know you by now?”
I sigh dejectedly, letting my shoulders slump. “I haven’t been flying the Japanese flag in some time.” When Nolan’s eyebrows draw down with confusion, I roll my eyes. “I believe I may be pregnant.”
“Was that so hard to tell me?” he asks with an annoying chuckle.
I point across the table at him. “You mustn’t breathe a word of this to Evelyn.”
“So it’s her brother’s?”
“Of course it’s her brother’s. Are you insinuating I’ve become some kind of slag?”
“Just checking,” he answers, shrugging. “The way he left—”
“He wanted me to come along.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“He lives in God’s country, Nolan. You have no idea, you’ve never been there. A person can drive for miles without seeing another living soul. How long do you think I’d survive in a place that destitute?” A dull ache spreads through my belly with the truth. “Perhaps it’s a sign I was never meant to do anything more than get off with him.”
Nolan crosses his arms over his thick chest. “What’re you planning to do if you are pregnant?”
“That is an excellent question considering I know fuck all about parenting.”
“No one knows anything their first time,” he tells me, offering a brilliant smile. “Why do you think those ‘what to expect’ books are so popular? You’d figure it out, Shar. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for.”
My phone buzzes from inside my purse with a call. Other than my persistent admirer, no one bothers calling, so it’s of no surprise to see “blocke
d caller” flash across the screen when I reach down to silence it.
“Was that him?” Nolan asks, raising one eyebrow.
“Unless he’s gone barmy and decided to buy an untraceable phone, it wasn’t James. I seem to have caught the attention of an anonymous admirer.”
Nolan leans over the table, a sudden fire in his eyes. “Someone’s harassing you? How long has this been going on?”
“It’s nothing, I assure you.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit.” He reaches for his phone and begins typing furiously with his fingers while occasionally glancing my way. “Remember my friend Brent? He’s a computer engineer and a fucking genius with cell phones. I’ll have him meet you in the morning so he can get a trace on the caller.”
“That’s quite unnecessary,” I sing with a sigh, knowing he won’t back down regardless.
His phone dings with a message that he reads before setting it back down. “He said he’ll meet us when I open the bar tomorrow.” Crossing his arms over his chest, his features smooth out and he sighs. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and James? The only time I’ve seen you with him was that night at the bar and you were acting like a total nut job before you ran out of there. He didn't have much to say on the way to the airport, but I got the feeling he was reluctant to leave.”
“What does it matter?” I ask, holding my hands out at my sides. “Not much can be done. We had a lovely time while he was here, but he’s obligated to his family’s business, and I’m not about to pick up and move somewhere that requires cowgirl boots. We may have been right for each other in other ways, but in the end, it’s over.”
Nolan’s brows shoot upright. “You’re not going to tell him if you are pregnant? That doesn’t seem fair to the poor guy. Or the baby.”
“If I am carrying his child, I suppose I’d tell him eventually, just not until the mystery of his dad’s murder has subsided a bit more. He doesn’t need the added stress of deciding how to raise a child from a million miles away. And if he decides later on not to partake in this, the little nugget would still have a charming Uncle Nolan to change his nappy and teach him whatever he needed to know about properly caring for his John Thomas.”
Nolan chuckles. “You’re hoping it’s a boy?”
“Don’t be daft. I’m hoping it’s not a thing. I don't have time in my life for a miniature James, no matter how handsome and charming he may be.”
“Have you taken a test?”
Shrugging, I take a slow sip of my water. “I visited the pharmacy yesterday and brought one home. Something about holding that little box in my hand made it too real. I will get there, eventually. It’ll just take some time since I’m unable to find courage in the bottom of a whiskey bottle.”
Nolan reaches across the table to take my hand in his. “Would it help if I came over?”
“You really believe I can pee with Manhattan’s wealthiest playboy perched at my side?” I squeeze his hand and laugh when he scowls at my playful jab. “Sorry, but it’s something I need to do on my own.”
“Don’t put it off, Shar. Knowing you, this is something you’ll procrastinate the hell out of until your pants don’t fit and you’re asking me to bring you pickles and whatever shit pregnant woman crave. Better to get it over with now before you make yourself sick worrying about it.”
After the waitress arrives to take our order, I’m able to avoid the subject for the rest of the night, though Nolan continues to give me forlorn glances as if I’m a troll at a pageant. We part ways after his nightcap and I return home to stare at the small contraption that will reveal my fate. Somehow I seem to think ignorance is bliss and tuck it back inside the medicine cabinet.
At a time earlier than fit for human decency, I meet Nolan and his mate, Brent, at Leona’s. Nightmares of screaming infants and an unreasonably furious James made for a shit night of sleep, and I’m ready to row when the computer geek insists on hijacking my phone. By the time Charlie’s sister, Katie, pops in early afternoon to work on building some of my ideas for our collection, I’m mad to the point of being certifiable.
Normally I’m the one to sketch out our ideas, Evelyn enters them into the computer to generate a pattern, Katie sews them together, and we all three handle the business aspect of things. Today, however, I’m merely able to scribble random drawings of sad little butterflies as Katie manipulates swatches of cloth. After forty minutes of hashing out a design, she drapes an arm over the dress form, scowling my way. Dressed in a fuchsia top and a pair of loose-fitting slacks, I’m again pressed to understand how someone who always appears ready to hit the beach circa 1985 can possess such an astute eye for fashion.
“Alright, what gives?” she demands. “I swear it’s like aliens have nestled inside that pretty little head of yours and abducted the Sharlo we all know and love. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think a minute ago you were about to deck me one for disagreeing with your fabric choice. Evelyn mentioned you’ve seemed a little off since her brother left. Unless you want me to tell her to skip Charlie’s tour and fly back for an intervention, you best start spilling the beans, missy.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Tossing her golden hair over her shoulders, she flashes a wicked smile. “Try me.”
“I swear you and that brother of yours were raised by a pack of Mad Hatters,” I mumble, straightening my shoulders and setting the pen in my hand down onto my sketch pad. “Breathe a word of this to Ev or your brother and I’ll tell them both of your torrid affair with Dante the night of their nuptials.”
Katie rolls both her eyes and a hand through the air. “My time with the hot bodyguard is up, but whatever. My lips are sealed, sister. Just because I enjoy the art of gab doesn’t mean I can’t keep a juicy secret to myself. Remember, I have two teenage boys. I’ve seen and heard shit that would make you think twice about using the bathroom at my house.”
“I don’t want to know what on earth you’re insinuating, especially when I may be dealing with that sort of thing far too soon for my liking.”
“Wait…” Her eyes skip back and forth on the wall behind me. “Are you—”
“I’m several days late, yes. I have a test, I just haven’t the courage to actually soil the little piece of plastic.”
“I knew it! The way you were looking all doe-eyed at James when we were back in Minnesota and he couldn't stop staring at you, I figured something was going on!” Mouth open, she reaches out to lightly punch my shoulder. “You lucky bitch! Why didn’t you say anything before? If I didn’t feel like such a cougar around that man, I would’ve shimmied my way up that gorgeous body like a monkey! I mean, those pecs and arms, and that jaw. I’ll bet he can fuck like a real man because, I mean, he’s the real deal—a homegrown hunk of meat. We are talking James, right?”
“What is it with you people thinking I’ve become the town whore? Yes, James, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your indecent thoughts to yourself, considering he may be the father of my unborn child.”
“Holy shit! How perfect is that? Best friends becoming sisters-in-law? That would officially make you part of my family!” Her little hands clap together in a flurry as she jumps up and down like a small child in need of a lavatory. “Oh my god, you love him! You guys are in love!”
Reaching out, I snatch her by her arms and force her to stop. “Quit your bloody blabbering! I hate to burst your delusional bubble, but there have not been any declarations of love and most certainly there’s no mention of marriage vows being exchanged. You’re at sixes and sevens.”
“Throw British insults at me all you want, but I have a knack for predicting this kind of thing,” she answers with a smug smile. “Charlie thought I was crazy when I told him he’d be marrying Evelyn one day, and look where that got him. You haven’t taken that test yet because you know I’m right. You know James is your future and for some reason it scares the shit out of you. Believe me, I’ve been there. I did the out-of-this-world hot guy who had me
screaming for mercy. You think having a baby at twenty-five sounds scary? You should try having one at fifteen, then find out the dad is a total loser after you’re knocked up with number two. All before you’ve even graduated high school.”
Resting her hands on my shoulders, she takes on the kind of stern look I haven’t received since the time I smuggled my pet ferret in my bra to primary school. “From what Ev tells me, James isn’t the type to let anyone he cares about suffer. You could have a hangnail and he’d be at your side with a clippers. While I may not know you well enough yet to understand what it is specifically about the possibility of being a parent that scares you, I’m living proof that you can successfully raise a child without having any clue what you’re doing. We’re all capable of mistakes and poor decisions, Shar. It’s called life. If you had zero regrets and nothing to be afraid of, then you're not really living. With or without James, you’re strong enough to do this. So march that perky little ass of yours into the bathroom and take that test before I find a way to make you.”
“Hold up, I’m trying to decide if you missed your calling as a psychotherapist or a drill instructor.”
Shaking her head, Katie points at the bathroom, lips pressed together. I merely nod and retreat with her hot on my trail. When I reach for the kit on the counter, she snatches it first, skimming through the directions and mumbling to herself. She snags a packet from the box and hands it to me. “Just pee on it. You picked a great test—we’ll know in five minutes max if there’s reason for alarm. I’ll be back in a minute.”
She leaves the room as I pull my knickers down and squat over the loo. By the time I’ve placed the stick on the sink counter and perched on the tub across the way to watch intently, Katie’s back with an open bottle of white wine.
“Not until I know,” I insist, holding a hand out to stop her from getting any closer.
“It’s not for you.” She takes a long guzzle before sitting at my side. From the corner of my eye, I can see she’s staring the test down as well. “It feels like an eternity when you’re waiting for these dumb things to lay out the rest of your future with one little line. At least if one of us has a good buzz going, it’ll liven things up.”
