Broken Bliss: An Mpreg Romance (Hot Alaska Nights Book 2)

by Aiden Bates

  An outside observer might think that Raff and Sam were family, perhaps cousins if not brothers—since Sam was African-American—because their bond was so obviously very strong. There was a physical comfort between them, lots of arms hanging around shoulders and playful punches to biceps. Sam’s sons climbed onto Raff’s back and received bucking-bronco rides, and Raff’s daughter nestled into Sam’s arm when she needed to get away from the horseplay. Vanessa brought down a shopping bag filled with little gifts for Elizabeth—a few dresses and barrettes—and she had a gift for Raff; a shirt which she said was perfect for him and she couldn’t pass up.

  It was all very familiar and comfortable.

  As Vanessa poured coffee, Sam asked how Chris was.

  “He’s great. Really determined to make it work as a private practice, here and in Alaska, and he’s already got some clients lined up. That’s part of why I’m here, actually.”

  They congratulated Raff on Chris’s new business venture, and Raff almost said “I’ll pass that along,” but stopped himself. Instead, he asked about Sam’s job and the promotion he received not long ago, then he asked about Vanessa’s job as a nurse. It was like he had suddenly made the conversation awkward.

  After a while, it was time for the twins to take a nap and Elizabeth was already zonked. Vanessa took her sons to their room and left the men to talk.

  “Something’s on your mind, brother. Spill it,” Sam said. In Raff’s experience, he’d never been one to mince words.

  Raff looked down at his hands, trying to find the guts to ask the question that had brought him here. He decided to give Sam the same respect and just be forthright.

  “How were you ever able to forgive me, Sam?”

  Sam shot him a dirty look. “Not this again. At least once a damn year.”

  Raff shrugged his shoulders. “Sorry. It’s just that, every once in a while, it all resurfaces.”

  “Man, I’m getting sick of rehashing this for your sorry ass, but let’s do it one more time. Ready?” Sam’s tone was playful but there was an undercurrent of sincerity.

  “Yeah. Hit me.”

  “No pun intended?”

  The two laughed soundlessly, but then Sam began.

  “You were a child. Do you know that the front of the brain and the back of the brain aren’t even connected until age twenty-six or so? That’s why parents protect their kids and guard their kids . . . but you didn’t have any parents. You were scared and lonely and stupid. And, as you know, at first I was pissed because your stupid ass caused me to lose the ability to walk.”

  “I remember,” Raff replied, quietly.

  They’d been in the hospital at the same time. Raff was fine, considering. He had a mild concussion but his helmet had prevented any severe head injuries. His arm was badly broken and required immediate surgery to prevent long-term nerve damage. The doctor released him only thirty-six hours after he arrived.

  As soon as Raff found out that he hit someone, he tried to find out the details, but he was treated like a child. No one would tell him anything, as if he couldn’t handle it. At one point, he tried to sneak out to see how the man was doing, but the hospital was a maze and Raff went back to his own room, defeated.

  From the moment the ambulance arrived at the hospital, during his post-op wait, and even as his close friend Buzz checked him out, Raff expected the police to barge in and drag him to jail, but it didn’t happen.

  The cops never showed up, but a detective called two days after the fact. He told Raff that he knew he was drunk, but the only proof he had was observational—the bartender and another patron of the bar said he was stumbling as he left. The detective said it was enough, said Raff was going to prison, said he was going to ruin his life unless he turned himself in.

  Despite the roommate practically screaming at him to deny everything and get a lawyer, Raff delivered himself to the police station that day, his arm still in a cast and his head still aching from the concussion. His guilt was overwhelming.

  Raff got lucky. The judge looked at his file and decided that, despite Raff being declared a legal adult, he would not be treated as one in that courtroom. Raff was assigned community service, Alcoholics Anonymous, and a social worker. He would work his ass off but, provided there were no more fuck-ups, his record would be sealed.

  And finally, Raff had to spend 8-hours a day for one year with the victim of his actions.

  “You remember that first time we met?” Sam asked him.

  “I do. You were in the hospital. You were angry. When I asked how I could help you, you told me I could go fuck myself.”

  “Mmhm. And what happened then?”

  “The nurse told you to watch your mouth.”

  “Mmhm. That fine-ass nurse with the curves.” Sam licked his lips and made the shape of an hourglass with his hands. “All I wanted was to get my hands on her.”

  Raff chuckled. “Hey man, that’s your wife you’re talking about.”

  “She wasn’t my wife back then. She was just my fine-ass nurse. Do you think I would have met a beautiful woman like that on my own? I was a PE teacher. She wouldn’t have given me the time of day. But because I was a poor little invalid,” Sam made two fists and rubbed his eyes like a crying baby, “she spent time talking to me. I was able to woo her with my charm and intellect.”

  Raff smiled at the memory of many days spent sitting at Sam’s bedside, listening to him alternately curse Raff and praise Vanessa.

  “And look around you, at this home.”

  “It’s a beautiful home.”

  “In a beautiful neighborhood. Not a lot of brothers get to live in Jericho.”

  “I know.”

  “Not a lot of PE teachers out here either. Can’t afford it.”

  “I know.”

  “Because your drunk-ass hit me with your motorcycle, I was forced to go back to school, and I learned to be a software developer. I made a lot of money. And then I bought this house. And then I bought a fucking rock of an engagement ring and proposed to that fine-ass nurse. And then that fine-ass nurse, that queen, gave me three beautiful children.”

  “I know.”

  “Man, I would have given up my legs and my arms for all that. But fortunately, I still have my arms.”

  It was a sick joke that Raff had heard many times before, but he still laughed, despite a lump in his throat.

  “Raff, you have to stop feeling sorry for yourself over this. Forgive yourself. Stop asking me to. I did it a long time ago, and you’re pissing me off. You hear me? Forgive yourself.”

  Raff simply nodded. He knew his voice would fail him right then.

  Finally, he told Sam about the blackmail.

  “I don’t know what to say, man. I understand why you feel shame and why you don’t want Chris to know. But look at what you’ve accomplished since then. I don’t know Chris, but if he’s as wonderful as you claim he is, he won’t want you to suffer like this. Tell that fucker Trick to do his worst.”

  It wasn’t the first time that Sam had been the voice of reason for Raff. He was the one who convinced Raff to propose to Chris, who’d help calm his nerves before Elizabeth was born, and had been a sounding board more times than Raff could count.

  “Hey, babe?” Sam called, hearing his wife in the kitchen. “I think we might get to meet Chris soon.”

  Vanessa reacted as expected, with squeals and jumps. She was an adorably loud and happy woman, an excellent complement to her sarcastic, straight-shooter husband.

  “Oh, please, Raff! We’ve just been dying to meet the man that won your heart. I’ll make dinner! It will be a dinner party!” She went on for a few minutes.

  “I’ll do what I can,” Raff promised her, and then it was time to head back to town.

  “Sarah’s going to miss you,” Vanessa said about their oldest daughter. “She doesn’t get home from school until 3:30.”

  Raff asked them to give Sarah and the boys his love, and then he gave big hugs to his friends just as the Uber
pulled up to the curb. Elizabeth was holding a new doll and a bag of cookies, and blew kisses goodbye. Raff tried to thank his friend, but his voice cracked, and Sam told him to stop being a pussy.

  “You better watch your mouth, Sam,” Vanessa said, and then was surprised when the two men burst into laughter.

  It wasn’t until they were turning the corner that Raff realized he forgot to mention the pregnancy. He was about to call Sam, but then decided he and Chris could tell him and Vanessa the news together. Raff was excited that two of the most important people in his life would finally meet.

  Chapter Ten

  The flashes were the worst.

  Bright lights from every direction, unexpected, like lightning without a storm.

  Frightening when one didn’t know what it was.

  Terrifying even when one did.

  Trick Daniels went to the press, just as promised, and the press and paparazzi were ecstatic to have the hot, wild-child art thief (because it was no fun to believe he was innocent) Raff Rivera back in their sights. They didn’t care that the “wild child” was now a thirty-something-year-old father, nor that his tiny daughter was generally in-tow. Too many times already, the bright lights had startled Elizabeth and caused her to cry, and she also didn’t like having her daddy throw his jacket over her when he saw someone with a camera approaching.

  More and more, he was afraid to leave the apartment.

  The night before Raff called Trick to tell him he would not be blackmailed, he sat Chris down, started to give him one of his “world famous” neck massages and unfolded his tale. And just as his friend Sam predicted, Chris was concerned and compassionate. He’d always had a soft spot for teenaged Raff, with no one to help him or look out for him. When hearing him describe the shame of having maimed someone, he grabbed Raff’s hand and squeezed.

  “You must have been so scared.”

  When Chris heard that Raff was being blackmailed, however, he got mad.

  He also got rational.

  “There’s nothing we can do, except maybe take him to civil court. We can’t get him on slander because it’s not against the law to tell the truth, no matter how disgusting his motivation is. But we can help put him in jail.”

  Raff knew what he meant. That old attitude of refusing to snitch against his “brothers” no longer made sense. Trick had proven he wasn’t his “brother” when he threatened his family. Chris called the District Attorney’s office the next morning, right after Raff told Trick that he wouldn’t be blackmailed.

  They watched Trick’s press conference together, just a few days later, holding hands tightly as the man with the greasy smile spilled Raff’s darkest secret.

  “In 2001, Rafael Rivera was arrested after causing an accident in which a man was permanently disabled. Witnesses stated under oath that Rivera was heavily intoxicated at the time. Rivera was never charged or tried, despite being a legal adult at the time. The record was sealed. Less than four years later, Rivera was again arrested, this time for the theft of a priceless work of art, and he was inexplicably found innocent by a jury. Said jury was not informed of Rivera’s previous arrest. Now I have been charged with the theft of that painting. I had nothing to do with it. This is part of a cover-up by the District Attorney and the judge to protect Rivera. I beg the New York Attorney General to investigate this cover-up. I’m an innocent man without many resources. It will be a travesty of justice if I’m sent to prison only to protect a guilty man.”

  Raff was truly incredulous. “Why would the DA and judge be protecting me? I’m . . . nobody.”

  “Not nobody,” Chris said, softly. “Don’t say that.”

  “You know what I mean. I was a foster kid with no money. The prisons are filled with guys like me. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Chris shook his head. “Don’t try to make any sense of what he says. Trick Daniels’ only motivation is protecting his own ass. He’s desperate. And, don’t you forget it, he’s guilty. He’s guilty of the art theft, and he’s guilty of blackmail. He needs to pay for that.”

  Raff knew why Chris said this. He wasn’t comfortable testifying against Trick or anyone else who might eventually be charged. But it was the right thing to do.

  The swarming of the press began within minutes of the end of the press conference. Their apartment was on the fourth floor, so at least no one was trying to look in the windows, but the doorbell rang incessantly and even the neighbors were being harassed. That didn’t make Chris and Raff very popular. Chris got a protective order that prevented them from camping out on the front stoop, but the sidewalk was public property and the journalists had no shame. Raff and Chris had to order their meals and groceries in, and even the delivery people were getting pestered as they came and went. Raff made sure to give them big tips.

  When Raff did have to leave, Chris would distract the reporters out front by going outside and pretending he was going to make a statement, and Raff would slip out the back where an Uber driver would be waiting. There was a risk that the driver would be a jerk, of course, but Raff had the brilliant idea to hand the guy his tip up front.

  “Here’s $20. Can you keep us away from the reporters?”

  It seemed to be a successful tack.

  Raff finally reached his limit, however, in a place where he did not think he had to worry. Following the usual protocol, he and Elizabeth sneaked out the back door, into a waiting Uber, and went to see her pediatrician. She had a cold and an earache that she couldn’t shake. Raff gave the driver the $20 with his spiel and then held a warm-pack to the tot’s ear during the entire ride. It was only a six-block ride, but he couldn’t risk walking it.

  The waiting room was half full, mostly with mothers and little ones at their feet, flipping through Highlights magazine or pushing wooden cars on the carpet. Elizabeth lay listlessly against her father’s chest, rubbing at the side of her head with a whimper on occasion. Raff worried that they would have to insert tubes into her ears; a procedure that he knew was safe and effective, but still made him anxious.

  It was clear that some of the parents had noticed him and were trying not to stare. His face had been on the news at least a few times before Raff and Chris decided to simply not turn on the television. Raff ignored them. He was there for his baby girl. As if to drive home that point, he kissed the top of her head, which smelled of baby sweat because she hadn’t felt well enough for a bath last night. It was still a sweet scent.

  That’s when she threw up on him.

  Being an experienced father, he swung into action mode, sweeping her up and getting to the corner bathroom in three large strides. He held her gently over the trash can until she was done, and then cleaned her up. Fortunately, he was wearing a t-shirt under his button-down and he threw the soiled shirt in the trash. Elizabeth was crying, but not screaming, as if she was resigned to feeling like hell and just wanted it over with.

  “Poor Bizzy. I’m so sorry, baby. You’ll feel better soon.”

  Tears finally gone, she rested her head against her father’s strong chest, and he carried her out into the waiting room again.

  A flash went off right in their faces. A paparazzo, waiting for them in the doctor’s office. That fucking Uber driver.

  Instinctively, Raff flung out his arm to protect his child, and he knocked the camera out of the photographer’s hand. The man started to yell something about assault and the parents in the room were yelling, too, gathering their kids with looks of terror. Raff’s thick arms created a protective cage around Elizabeth, and he ran.

  The hallway and elevator were thankfully empty of reporters, but Raff had no way to know what was going on downstairs. If one reporter found him, however, he had to assume more were on their way. That’s how they operated. Once the elevator doors closed, he mashed the “stop elevator” button and called Chris.

  “Get me a car, now. Back alley of Dr. Solomon’s office. Have him text me when he’s here.”

  They stayed inside the little compartment, in peace and
quiet, for almost five minutes before the text arrived. The car was there. Raff didn’t have time to wonder if this driver would be as big an asshole as the last one. Instead, he hit the button again and headed to the ground floor. As soon as the elevator stopped, Raff held his breath in fear.

  There were at least five reporters with their camera people waiting, asking questions and standing in his way. Again protecting his daughter with his arms, he moved like a football player toward the back door where he hoped safety was waiting.

  Just one car, idling, and the driver hopped out to help Raff and Elizabeth in. It was then that Raff realized that he’d been forced to leave Elizabeth’s car seat behind.

  “Here’s a $50 bill, man. Please. Drive carefully and don’t tell anyone that you saw us.” Raff sounded exhausted, just the way he felt.

  Chris was waiting for them at the backdoor of the apartment. “Dr. Solomon called in antibiotics for her, and he said no problem on rescheduling.”

  “Fuck this, Chris. Fuck this.”

  Elizabeth had fallen asleep on the ride home, comforted by the motion of the car, so Raff spoke quietly, but his words carried a big impact. He told Chris what happened in the pediatrician’s office.

  Chris’s face went red and his lips formed a tight line.

  “It’s drastic, but there’s one place we can go to get away from this.”

  Raff nodded. “Let’s go to Stellar.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Two big sighs of relief.

  They landed at Anchorage International Airport, and no one was waiting for them except for Yolanda, Chris’s assistant. She was wearing a brilliant yellow dress that clashed with her orange hair, and she stood out in the crowd.

  “You are a sight for sore eyes, woman,” Chris said, giving her an uncharacteristic hug.