I mash the button to turn off the music as I roll into the parking lot. “It’s too small.”
His eyes are wide once he realizes where we’re at. “Okay then.”
One painful hour later, we’re halfway to Ikea driving my new wheels. A used Range Rover. Still nice but not custom anything. Practical. The seat warmers are better than the Z4, so I guess that’s something.
“I know we didn’t just trade in that bad ass fucking car you’ve wanted for what seems like forever to get something big enough to haul furniture around,” Ram says thoughtfully when we finally pull into Ikea.
“I need more space,” I tell him with a growl.
Space for a car seat. Space for Andie. Space for baby shit. I don’t know what the fuck babies need, but I know they need room, that’s for damn sure.
“Okaaaaay,” he drawls out as we head inside the store.
Another hour later and I have everything I need. A desk. A fucking cool-ass ergonomic chair that I’m jealous of. And loads of organizational office crap. I’m not even sure any of it is useful.
But it will be useful to her.
It will make her happy.
The thought, though a pleasant one, is fleeting. I’m not sure she’ll even show up in the morning for work. And that thought is frustrating as hell.
I want her.
Whether she wants to believe it or not, I want her.
All of her.
Even that little bean we created in the heat of the moment growing inside her belly.
That’s mine too.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?” Ram questions. “I mean, I’m assuming that once we get back, I’ll have to help you put all this shit together. That means I’ll be late going home to my girl. If I’m going to be late to help my brother who is going through some crap, then I expect you to at least tell me what the hell it is I’m missing out on dinner and a blowjob for.” He smirks. “This better be good.”
“Andie’s pregnant.”
His head snaps to face me from the passenger side. “No shit. Who’s the father?” he jokes.
I glare at him. “Fuck you.”
“Calm down,” he utters. “I’m just kidding. Of course the kid is yours. Wow. Pregnant. You think I’ll be a good uncle?”
My nostrils flare with anger. “Uncle? You think I give a rat’s ass about whether or not you’ll be a great uncle right now? I’m the father of the devil woman’s baby. She fucking hates me. What am I going to do about this?”
He’s quiet for a minute. “Is she keeping it?”
“I’m not giving her a choice,” I seethe. “That baby is mine too.”
Ram chuckles and it unnerves me. “Well, considering how fucking crazy you are over this kid and you’ve barely just found out, I think everything will be just fine. I already feel sorry for her future boyfriends. Need help cleaning your shotguns?”
Grumbling at him, I gas it down the highway back to the office. The very idea of having to run off future boyfriends for an Andie lookalike has me seeing red. “I don’t own a shotgun.” That’s the only thing I have to say about that right now.
“Not yet,” he says with a laugh. “Seriously, though. Calm the hell down. I honestly don’t see what the big problem is. You like Andie. Andie tolerates you. You guys made a baby. You’re mostly responsible adults. I think you’ve got this covered.”
I pull into the parking lot at the office and shut off the car. Scrubbing at my face with my palms, I try to tamp down the fear hiding deep down inside me. What if this is really all a game to her? What if she doesn’t want to try and do right by this kid with me? What if she was fucking serious about not keeping it?
I’m pissed and confused and stressed the fuck out.
All I keep seeing are those sad tears streaming down her puffy red cheeks. I’d wanted to cradle her pretty face and kiss her until all our problems seemed like distant memories.
But. She. Won’t. Fucking. Let. Me.
“Andie doesn’t want to be a team,” I grumble. “She doesn’t want to be anything. I wish I could get inside her thick skull and see what makes her tick.”
“You could always call in reinforcements…” Ram trails off, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Reinforcements?”
He doesn’t have to answer because I know. Ram climbs out and leaves me to my thoughts. With a sigh, I dig my phone out of my pocket. I’d expected a response back from Andie when I texted her in the middle of signing paperwork at the dealership, but she never texted back. My brother was right. It’s time to pull out the big guns. I mash the number and wait for a sweet voice to answer.
“Roman?”
“Momma,” I choke out. “I fucked up and I need your help.”
Her voice is soothing—aside from the “Oh my God I’m going to be a grandma!” squeal—as I tell her the entire story from top to bottom without missing a single twisted detail. I may not be able to get Andie to talk to me, but nobody can tell my lovely, petite mother no. She’s too cute and too sweet and you’d have to be an asshole to be mean to her.
A smile creeps up my lips.
Sorry, Andie, but when it comes to having you, I’m no longer playing fair. I’m playing for fucking keeps.
Big Stupid Oaf
“OH MY GOD! YOU HAVE to wait longer than ten seconds before you come back over here, otherwise it just follows you!” Dani squeals, covering her nose.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her with a laugh, but I can’t be holed up in the corner every time I have to fart. Eating two cheeseburgers, cheese sticks, wings, and then spending the night at Dani’s eating taffy gave me the worst gas. Add in my amazing new bodily hormones and, holy cow, I am smoking us both out.
“Seriously, at least one minute. You can’t do that to me again.” She has her hand over her nose and mouth now and is using a magazine to fan the area.
“Dude! I said sorry. But I can’t hold it in! What if this speck of life inside me smells it instead?”
Halfway back to the kitchen, I feel my stomach contract again. Shit! I debate on letting it go while I walk back, but last time I did that Dani about drowned me in Febreeze. I turn around to go back to the corner as she busts out laughing.
“This isn’t funny. This gas is no joke.” I go back and stick my butt in the corner and let another one rip. Dani, who is bent over trying to catch her breath, is now using her sweater as a mask. I catch her fiddling with her phone and panic.
“Who are you calling?” I demand. “You better not Snapchat this! Or text your man! I’ll murder you. I don’t care how sweet you are!” I stalk over to her, knowing I have an entourage of stank following me.
“I’m not. I’m googling how to get rid of gas. You’re in serious need of a remedy.”
Oh, okay. I can work with that.
I let her do her thing, while I attempt to drink some juice. I wanted to drink coffee, but Dani told me that caffeine was a no-no while pregnant. I told her that it was a myth, because I hoped it was, and to give me back my mug. She just smiled sweetly and handed me the stupid juice. It made me feel bad for poor Ram. He will never win with her. It’s that damn cute fucking smile that will win every time. Nobody is immune.
I spent the night laying on Dani’s couch, and we stayed up late watching Sens8 on Netflix while eating the entire stock of taffy Ram gave her for Christmas. It took me some time to find my sane spot, but once I did, I was able to have that heart to heart Dani was so patiently waiting to have.
The typical questions were asked.
Will I keep the baby? The answer is yes. There’s no doubt.
Would I allow Roman to be a part of the experience? Next question.
If it was a girl, would I name it Danielle? We’ll see.
Dani was beyond excited to, as she put it, become an aunt. That made me excited because she was going to be an aunt to my kid. I was having a kid! Holy fuck! It was crazy. And scary and confusing. I laughed, cried, and swore—no emotion was safe from me. The biggest
one was fear. I was worried I’d turn out to be a horrible mother.
Because what do I know about having a baby?
Absolutely nothing.
I know that way too many people bring them to restaurants and ruin my meal with their crying misfits. And would Roman be a part of this? I sat for a long time, trying to imagine him holding a baby. Tenderness was ingrained in him. The softness and possessiveness. He would make a great parent. A great dad. But would we make a great anything?
I won’t lie. Beneath all the hard exterior, there have been those late nights alone when Dani was busy with Ram that left me to myself, a box of wine, and Full House reruns—Have mercy—long nights when I imagined Roman and I together. Not fighting. Well, still play fighting in the bedroom, because if that ever went away, so would he. That’s a given. But us together. Truly together. And it felt…good. Safe. I remember just wanting to know how it would feel to be in a relationship. To wake up to the feel of a man, who is so deeply in love with you, cradled around you, that your heart and soul ache at having to get up and leave the perfect little mold you’ve made beneath him. Meals that are shared with laughter and quick, flirty glances. Love making that continues into the night and early morning. Pathetic ol’ Andrea Grace Miller wanted that. The whole dang package.
I remember testing out the waters one night and trying to show Roman a side of me people rarely saw. A kinder side. I made dinner and sent him a text to come over. I waited for over three hours, and by the time he finally made it over, claiming an issue with a client kept him away, it was way past dinner, and my nice side had long since expired. The meat was dry and the food cold. I had also drank close to two bottles of the wine I had bought for us to share. I was in no mood to play nice or test out any more waters. I was angry. And in the end, he got the Andie he always got. The angry, pissed off one. We had the best sex that night. It was hot and intense. I think we both walked away with bruises, but hot damn, did I get a workout. My legs were stiff for almost a week and my pelvis was bruised from how hard he crashed into me. It was what we did best. And so, at the end of the day, I realized what we had just worked, and that we didn’t and shouldn’t try to be anything more than fuck buddies.
As for yesterday, a lot of shit went down. Finding out I was about to form a life, telling off my boss and getting fired, telling off my baby daddy, then having my baby daddy offer me a job. Then telling off my baby daddy again… It was all too much. Too much madness for one day.
Dani asked what my plans were with work. I clearly needed to grovel and apologize to someone. My old boss or my new one. Either way, I needed a job. Desperately. I was a mom now. I had a fetus to feed.
The best option was to apologize to my new boss/soon-to-be baby daddy. It was mainly because the big idiot had offered me a salary way past my potential and experience. So, Dani and I shut off the TV, and like a good little girl, I went to bed early because I would start the brand new job in the morning.
Mothers have responsibilities.
And I’m a responsible mother.
But now, as I stand in the corner of Dani’s living room in a black pencil skirt and red blouse, releasing toxic gases out of my ass, I don’t feel so responsible. I feel out of my element, and the only thing I’m pondering is how many sick days I’ll have because I may need to take one today.
What a way to start off my first day…
“Got it!” Dani yelps from the kitchen and begins digging in her cabinets.
What exactly are you looking for? I wonder as I walk away from the toxic corner. Seriously, I’m going to pass out if I have to stand there any longer.
“Well, it says the easiest way is to just let them rip, which we obviously know isn’t working. An option is to chew on some ginger, which sounds kind of gross, or eat pumpkin, which is totally out of season, but I do have peppermint tea. So we’re gonna test this out.” She sets to making me some tea, which she also tells me I cannot drink a lot. Pregnancy and all. But we’re making an exception today.
The good thing is that the tea runs right through me, and I have to hit the bathroom right after I drink it, preventing any future gas from forming. Yuck. Moving on. The bad news is that I’m now late to work. On my first day. Awesome.
Walking into Holloway Advertising, way calmer than I did yesterday, my nerves are still slightly out of control. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Is it because I’m starting a new job? Because my boss is Roman? Because I’ll be working in the same room as him all. Day. Long?
I plead the fifth on the last two and chalk it up to first day nerves. I already have my argument down pat if he even thinks about grilling me for being late. How dare he raise his voice at the mother of his child? As I walk into his office, I notice Roman is absent. His large mahogany desk is missing his large frame, even though I can still smell the lingering scent of his cologne. The scent that he leaves on my pillow every time he’s in my bed. The scent that has always been a trigger for me. Would I sound like a psycho if I admitted that when he leaves, I sleep with that pillow tucked between my legs?
I toss my purse and jacket on the couch to the left, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do. Wait for him? Leave and go grab breakfast? I’m sure Dani could take an early lunch… “What the…” My eyes stop surveying the room when they land on the area that held a large conference table just yesterday. I gape in shock and my fingers cover my parted lips as a tiny gasp escapes from my throat.
Yesterday’s table has been replaced by a brand-new, quaint desk covered in supplies. And not just any supplies, a fabulous desk filled with a colorful array of pretty office supplies that Rainbow Brite would be jealous of.
He bought me my desk.
And everything I asked for.
Taking a few steps closer, I spot it. He even got me that stupid paper holder thing I demanded. This is why he’s going to be a great dad, a voice inside my head says. I remove the space between me and my new desk, brushing my fingers along the top of it. It’s so pretty and perfect. Even the chair screams girly and comfortable and perfect.
I bring my hands to my chest, cupping them over my heart. My eyes blink rapidly, fighting off the tears that are forming as I inhale deep breaths.
Please don’t cry.
Please don’t cry.
Shit.
I swipe the tear away. But this time it’s different. It’s the product of an emotion that sits heavy on my heart. He did this for me. Even after the spectacle I made yesterday. A small part of me prepared for the speech, the one where he’d tell me it was a mistake offering me a job, and that it would be best for me to look for one elsewhere. I would have agreed. Inside my head, of course, because I’m not sure this arrangement is a wise choice either. But the tough Andie argued back and said he did this to me. He has to pay. And pay the piper he shall.
But the kindness that he’s shown, even after my meltdown, it does something to me. Fills my angry heart with happiness. Dulls the pain of the never-ending lonely ache. He is willing to try. He said he wants this. Maybe he is telling me the truth. Maybe this can work. A small smile creeps onto my face, knowing when he walks through that door, I’m going to be a new me. No more outbursts. He deserves the same kindness he continues to offer me.
It’s then when I hear his deep voice outside. He’s coming. Oh shit! I throw my hands into my hair, trying to smooth it out. It is super windy today, taking my normally sleek blonde hair and turning it into an eighties tease, bouffant mess. I turn to face the door, hoping he’ll like my outfit. Like my outfit? Jesus. Let’s not turn that soft. Brushing my hands down my skirt, I take a deep breath as he walks through the door.
With a beautiful redhead on his tail.
“You were just wonderful, Roman,” she chirps in a sweet voice. Too sweet. Like nasty off-brand syrup. “I love watching you work with clients.” Her arm lifts and she daintily brushes his shoulder with her fingertips. And it’s not a friendly sort of pat either. It’s a whoreish cat pet. Like given the time, she’d rub a lot more
body parts all over him.
What the fuck?
“I’m free for dinner tonight if you want to celebrate,” she adds as Roman storms through his office, not even noticing me. It’s when I vocally snarl at her suggestion of dinner that he whips his head in my direction, acknowledging my presence.
“You came,” he says, seemingly surprised to find me here.
“Well, not exactly, but it sure looks like your girlfriend wants to,” I snap in response. Gone is any hope of being nice, and in its place is the temperamental girl who just caught her baby daddy being propositioned by a redheaded skank.
“What? What are you talking about?” He still doesn’t acknowledge the redhead and takes two large steps toward me. He places his warm hand on my shoulder. “Is everything okay? Are you feeling okay?” He scans my face and then my body, concern in his eyes. What is wrong is that Jessica Rabbit over there is still too close for my liking, and her hand is slowly starting to raise to rest on Roman’s shoulder.
“Hi, I’m Suzy,” she greets with a plastered-on smile that barely hides her irritation at seeing me. “Roman’s executive assistant.”
My eyes bulge and there’s possibly a wee bit of steam billowing from my nostrils.
Roman’s executive assistant?
Oh, hell no.
I shove Roman’s hand off my shoulder so I can sidestep him to glare at the woman. “That’s interesting,” I grit out. “Because I’m his executive assistant.” I’m ready for this battle. No one touches what’s mine.
Note to self: Remember to deny I said that later.
Suzy’s smile falters, and the phoniness behind it becomes much more noticeable. She may as well have the word “fake” smeared across her fugly, over-bronzed face. “That’s funny. But I am his—”
“Get out.” Roman’s low, demanding growl startles us both.
“Excuse me?” Suzy replies. “I thought we were going to go over—”
Hate 2 Lovers Page 3
