by Quinn, Taryn
It was Susie for my great-aunt, but who was keeping track?
I couldn’t believe all the trouble he’d gone to. Sure, some part of me was like, hey, you’re only getting one wedding, shouldn’t you have more agency? And um, hi, didn’t he do crap like this before?
No, and no. He chose the dress I loved, and he made my dream happen for me. He admitted he was more than a little concerned I would dump him in front of all our friends and family, but he’d done this because he wanted to be married to me now.
In front of our friends and family.
By Elvis. The guy he couldn’t stand.
Yeah, I had no complaints. As soon as he could walk without a limp, he was getting nailed again. Which was entirely for his benefit.
Ah, hell, I couldn’t lie on my wedding day.
Hi, my name is Sage, and I love sex. News at eleven.
“You’re sure I look okay?” I tugged at the side of the dress as we walked toward the Elvis chapel holding hands. So much different than the last time we’d visited it.
He kissed my knuckles. “You look magnificent.”
“I’m not fishing for compliments. I just feel very large. Not in a bad way, because baby girl needs room. But you know, when everyone is looking at me—”
He stopped us a few feet away from the entrance to Hunk O’ Burning Love. “Every single man who sees you is going to wish you were his. Every woman is going to envy your beauty.”
My throat grew tight and hot. “It’s like you’re trying to get me to marry you or something.”
He chuckled and dipped his forehead against mine. “Let’s just say I’m looking forward to the honeymoon.”
All at once, I realized how awkward this must be for him. He really hated stuff like this. Anything embarrassing or showy.
Then again, I had a tendency to be both of those things, often inadvertently. And he still loved me. I didn’t doubt that anymore. Every time he touched me, it was obvious. Just as it was clear he adored our little girl.
I was so very lucky.
“We can do this again at home. Have a nice, regular ceremony, very normal. In a church even if you want. Assuming they don’t cast me out with brimstone because I’m way pregnant.”
He laughed and gripped my hand that much harder. “Are you kidding me? I’ll skip that circus. This one suits me just fine.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want your wedding to be the stuff of nightmares for you. Since you’re not divorcing me ever or I will probably kill you.” He laughed, but I did not. “I’m not even joking, Hamilton. You’ll be dead as a doornail. Ally will help me bury your body. We already discussed it.”
“There’s a cheery thought. Remind me to scale back her Christmas gift this year.” He grinned. “We aren’t getting divorced. Ever. Okay?”
“Do you promise?”
Yes, I needed extra reassurance. I blamed that on pregnancy too. It would suck when I couldn’t use gestating a human as an excuse anymore.
Maybe Oliver’s idea of keeping me pregnant had a bright side. If one forgot about swelling, fatigue, morning sickness, weight gain, and hemorrhoids.
Yeah, not going there. There had been enough bathroom-related talk for one day already.
“Cross my heart. Now let’s go.” Oliver gave me a quick kiss and tugged on my hand. “Fake Elvis is waiting.”
Taking a deep breath, I nodded. And together, we walked into chaos.
Within a matter of moments, I’d been hugged and oohed and aahed over by my parents, Seth and Ally, Oliver’s father, Jean from the diner, Dare, Moose, Kelsey, and even Rob from the plane, who seemed unsurprised Oliver had knocked me up the very same weekend he’d met us. Probably because I’d crawled all over Oliver on the plane out of fear.
And smell lust. And just general lust, though that had taken at least a few hours.
Hey, a girl had her standards.
Laurie was zooming around like a kid on sugar, and baby Alexander was happily asleep where he was strapped to Ally’s chest. The only one who looked put out was fake Elvis, who was not pleased with all the delays, since they had a full slate of marriages on the docket.
On the other hand, the blue-haired receptionist seemed positively sunny. She’d taken one look at my belly and one look at Oliver and remarked that “the King doesn’t judge.”
Thank heavens for that.
Then it was time for the last few preparations. Ally offered me a pair of pearl earrings as my something borrowed, Oliver’s father presented to me the prettiest rose gold bracelet as my something new, my mom offered me Dad’s handkerchief to tuck in my bra as my something old—because c’mon, I was so going to cry—and Kelsey came through with something blue.
“I found the perfect thing!” she exclaimed, whipping out a royal-blue belt-slash-sash that proclaimed, “made in Vegas,” which she wrapped around my basketball-sized belly.
Everyone laughed at that, even Oliver.
“Look at nuts lady, coming through in the clutch,” Dare said with a smirk.
Kelsey turned a few shades of pink. “Offer a guy nuts one time and he never lets you forget it,” she whispered as she adjusted my sash.
“Probably because he wants you to play with his nuts.”
“You think? He is super-hot.”
“He is. And single.”
Oliver cleared his throat. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say another man was super-hot right before you’re about to marry me, princess.”
Seth adjusted his bowtie. “It’s okay, Sage. Everyone knows I’m the better-looking twin. The truth shall set you free.”
“Shut up and get into position,” Oliver said to Seth. “The ceremony is about to start.”
“Ah, the rudeness of a nervous husband-to-be. A flustered Oliver is the most entertaining kind of Oliver.” Seth was positively gloating. “This may be the best day ever.”
Ally elbowed him. “Um, excuse me?”
“After our wedding and the births of our babies, of course, Ally Cat.”
“Uh-huh.”
Oliver stroked a hand down my hair, settling my nerves as he always did with that single gesture. “See you in, oh, two minutes. Love you.”
I leaned up for a quick kiss. “Love you more. Also, you’re totally the hotter twin.”
“There was never any doubt.” He gave me a light shove up the red-carpeted aisle to where I was supposed to wait with my parents for the wedding march to begin.
Unconventional? Yeah, that was us. And I couldn’t have been happier.
I swallowed hard and fumbled for my mother’s and father’s hands as the telltale strains of “The Wonder of You” played in the background, our requested wedding song.
“This is it,” I mumbled to no one in particular.
My mom dashed away a tear. “You ready, sweet pea?”
Tears, who me? Nah, this was the most wonderful day of my life.
“I sure am.” I grinned at Oliver waiting for me at the other end of the aisle. “Let the shenanigans begin.”
Who’s The Daddy
Crescent Cove Book 3
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Who’s the Daddy
© 2018 Taryn Quinn
Rainbow Rage Publishing
Cover by: LateNite Designs
Photograph by Shutterstock
All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First ebook edition: July 2018
Sign up for our NEWS
LETTER for special updates.
One
I faced the chaos in front of me and propped my hands on my hips.
What had I done?
Oh, right. I had declared to the universe that I deserved the perfect new home. And somehow I’d gotten one.
Well, I’d gotten this.
I’d driven up Main Street in Crescent Cove with Oblivion playing on satellite radio and my hair blowing in the breeze, determination oozing from my pores. Every building with a “for rent” sign was out of my price range. I didn’t have a roommate, and a lot of the places had views of Crescent Lake, which drove up their asking prices.
Also, I was still paying the last month’s rent on my other apartment. Because, sure, a kindergarten teacher could totally pay rent on two places at once. That was completely feasible.
I could’ve asked my parents for help. A short-term loan. Money for a lobotomy. Whichever. But I wasn’t going to do that, because I’d rather be tight for a bit than lean on my already plenty generous parents.
My little sister, Rylee, was the one who needed loans and emotional support and all that jazz. I was the responsible older daughter who tried to hide her moments of irresponsibility and didn’t have that many to start with.
Socially awkward might have been the title of my theme song. But the reality of my world wasn’t nearly so zany.
I taught little kids. After school, I tutored students in advanced reading and two days a week, led the school’s newly created “music is fun” program. Once a month, my parents, Rylee, and I met at Spaghetti Warehouse for our standing date of—wait for it—spaghetti and meatballs.
That pretty much summed up my version of excitement, unless I was feeling particularly frisky and made myself come twice via whatever naughty fantasy was currently turning my crank. Often involving Tom Hardy. Most of the time, I was too worn out from school to self-service once, never mind twice.
And dating? Yeah. Please drive through.
Minus the impromptu hookup I’d had a few weeks ago with my ex after his granny’s funeral. The next morning, I’d awakened to a text brushoff.
And after I’d rocked his world in the sack.
Pfft.
I had dated sporadically after Tommy had broken up with me the first time, citing “different life directions” and “unclear goals as a couple.”
Okay, then.
So this whole being impetuous and finding-a-new-place-or-bust plan of mine was so outside my sphere, I was practically dizzy.
But my life needed some shaking up. As did I.
I stopped in many places that day post-Tommy breakup part deux, and the next few that followed. Until I happened to be making oh, my fiftieth trip down Main Street and noticed the square building being renovated between the auto shop and the florist. That seemed like a convenient spot. Auto repairs and overpriced sunshine in a vase were both things I needed in my life, especially since I had no one to buy me flowers and my SUV had been on its last legs forever.
The only thing that could’ve made the building better was closer proximity to The Spinning Wheel, but I probably didn’t need to mix dubious decisions with fifty proof. At least not until I was moved in and could walk home.
And also probably not until Christmas break. Principal Gentry would not be amused by my need for spirits of the liquid kind, rather than being filled by the Holy Ghost.
Prayers and blind optimism and possibly a healthy dose of stupidity had led me to this place. I’d signed the lease and gone back to my home in Turnbull to pack up the rest of my things—not that there was much, thank goodness, because it would’ve been relocated into storage—and wait for moving day.
That day was now here. One new life, coming right up.
First, I should probably unpack. And dust. And try not to laugh hysterically until I cried.
Swallowing hard, I let my gaze wander my infinitesimal space. That echoing sound in my head was the universe chuckling at me now, I was sure.
You wanted a place near school? Ta da. Enjoy.
It wasn’t as if the apartment was bad per se. Yes, it was small. Optimistically, the listing had called it a one-bedroom. So what if the closet in my place in Turnbull was almost as big? I wasn’t one of those women with mountains of shoes or a ton of clothes. I actually had a few sensible basics that I paired with some of the more eclectic pieces in my wardrobe.
See, practical. That was me.
Perhaps that was why Tommy had dumped me twice. What I considered being a freak in bed might be Tommy’s version of ho-hum.
God, now I was getting depressed over something other than my choice in living spaces. Hell, choice? I’d had no options if I wanted to live in town and not put it off any longer.
Now I was here. And I was going to make the best of it.
I moved to the gigantic window, the best-selling feature of the apartment—okay, the only selling feature of the apartment—and smiled at the view. The building was at an angle across from the lake, and from up here, I could see the brightly colored sailboats merrily bobbing along the water. There was one of my students from last year, Sara Wilkes, running along with her puppy’s leash in one hand and a kite in the other on the grassy area near the gazebo. Her mother stood nearby, chatting with a few other women about her age. Her friends.
That was what I needed. A bunch of girlfriends. I had some in Turnbull, mostly teachers at my former school and a few women I’d known in high school, but no one especially close.
I didn’t have a best friend. Well, I’d sort of started calling Sage my best friend in my head, but I didn’t tell her that because it was probably creepy. We hadn’t known each other all that long and she already had a best friend. But she was definitely the closest pal I’d had in…well, ever.
Yet another reason I’d wanted to move into the town proper. Along with a new view to wake up to every day, I wanted to find a peer group. But not in those words. That was teacher speak.
I was looking for a bunch of bad-ass bitches who didn’t think I was a weirdo for feeling sorry for my ex and sleeping with him instead of just, I don’t know, sharing a pizza and commiseration over his grandmother. Instead I’d shared my nether regions and…
Sigh. My stomach was growling. I shouldn’t have thought of pizza. The diner was just down the block, and maybe Sage was working—
Duh, she so was not. She didn’t work Saturdays anymore, not since she had a smoking hot husband and a little one to get ready for.
Two things I would probably never have.
Pizza, however? That I could make happen.
I sat down bare-legged on the still sawdust-y floor and grabbed my purse to dig out my phone. I swiped it on and blinked at the flurry of texts from Ally, Sage’s real best friend. She was super nice and seemed to have her hands full with her baby boy and a little girl who’d been in the other kindergarten last year. We didn’t know each other that well, but we’d hung out a bit recently after Sage had introduced us.
We’d also chatted at the dinner after Sage and Oliver’s Vegas wedding. As much as we could anyway, considering the night had been fun chaos mixed with some Sage-sized pandemonium.
Still, Ally and I were only acquaintances at best. Perhaps that would change.
Already smiling, I read her texts.
Hey there, hope it’s ok I’m texting you. I got your number from Sage. Well, she didn’t give it to me. I stole it.
My smile turned into a frown. Hmm. Okay. My interest was piqued.
I’m planning Sage’s surprise baby shower. She has no idea I’m doing it. I’m actually tormenting her a little, making her think I just haven’t thought of it. Is that mean?
Seemed a little mean to me, but hey, Ally had figured out how to have a best friend and I was just in the newbie stages, so what did I know?
I kept reading.
I want it to be a total surprise for her. Something special. She so deserves it. But her fretting about details while I’m trying to make it awesome is stressful. Performance an
xiety & all that.
I nodded even though Ally wasn’t in the room. I so understood.
Also, this might’ve been the longest series of texts I’d ever been involved in, and I hadn’t even responded yet. Hell, I didn’t even know where I fit in.
But now Alex is sick. You remember my son? Laurie is too. Plus, dear God, I think Seth is also. I have to reserve the space this wk. The place I had in mind is booked & I tried a couple other spots but everything is reserved. Poor planning on my part, I know.
I winced in sympathy. Aww, poor Ally. She had way too much on her plate.
Unlike me. Other than work, which did keep me pretty busy, my plate had room for a full course and then some.
Pity party for one. Table in the back.
Rolling my eyes at myself, I continued reading.
Now I’m sneezing too & I have a fever. That’s probably why I’m sending you these crazy texts. But can you help? Pretty please? I’ll owe you forever. I know Sage thinks of you as another bestie.
My eyes filmed over. It was probably just part of buttering me up, but that was so sweet. I was already onboard with whatever she needed. She didn’t even have to throw the best friend cherry on top.
If you can help, I’ll send over my lists so far & maybe you can take over? I’ll jump back in and help in whatever way you need. I’m sure we’ll be better in a few days so I can think again. But dear Lord, man flu is the worst. You’re single, right? So lucky. Talk later. TYSM!
I frowned. So lucky? Well, that was a matter of perspective. Though I didn’t envy her dealing with man flu, whatever that was.
