by Bijou Hunter
“You’re a bad leader,” Dad says in response.
“Suck my Burger King-managing ass, queef boy.”
I interrupt their playful bickering by making a dramatic announcement—the Earlham family’s favorite kind of announcement.
“I just found out that three months ago I knocked up a chick during a one-night stand. Now I need to drive to Tennessee to make her mine.”
Justice walks to me and places her hand on my shoulder. “Felix, I don’t know if you’re aware of this fact, but Tennessee is full of hicks. You’re going to want to be careful.”
Dad joins his overly serious wife and waits for her to start laughing. To her credit, the blonde controls her giggles for a near minute.
“Wear a condom much?” she says, shaking her head.
“I did.”
“So how is she preggers?” Dad asks.
“Are you sure it’s yours?” Justice interrupts. “Women from Tennessee aren’t trustworthy.”
“How do you know?”
“I read it on the internet.”
Justice snickers before giving me an overly dramatic hug. “You’re going to be a papa. I knew you’d follow in your father’s footsteps when it came to faulty condoms.”
“Get a blood test,” Dad tells me.
“Is that what you told my mom when she said she was pregnant?”
“Yes. More than once and that was a local girl. I can’t imagine how slutty some Butternut chick might be.”
“Did you miss the part where I said I’m making her mine?” I grumble.
“Yeah, actually I did,” Dad mutters. “Because of the kid, I assume.”
“No, because she was fricking brilliant and gorgeous, but fate seemed against us making our one-night stand into anything else. Now fate changed its mind and brought us back together.”
Justice stares at me, exhaling softly. “That’s the most romantic fricking thing I’ve ever heard. Go get her and don’t take no for an answer,” she says, hugging me. “Well unless she really means no, because you don’t want to be a creeper.”
Dad glances at his woman and then at me before finally smiling. “You heard Justice. Get what you need, boy, and don’t let even fate stand in your way.”
Leaving Jimmy with my parents, I grab a few snacks and shove them into my bag. Then I’m on the road with the plan of reaching White Horse, Tennessee by dark. Once I’m in the same town as Cricket, I’ll reply to her text and let her know I’m not a passive man.
4—CRICKET
I imagined several possible reactions to Poet hearing my news. Anger. Disbelief. Joy. Never did I consider he’d blow me off completely. Hell, Poet acting out the seven stages of grief would be better than silence.
When we were flirting at the bar, he checked his phone a few times. Not rudely like some men do, but he did keep an eye on it. Am I to believe the very day I send him such important fucking news, he just happens NOT to check his phone? Sure, yeah, whatever.
Poet likely has a woman in his life. Now he’s scrambling to explain how a roadwhore from months ago is claiming he’s the father of her bastard. Ugh, I hate being the woman other women gossip about. Normally, I’m the one who does the gossiping, not the other way around, but here we are.
Feeling like gum scraped off someone’s shoe, I do what I always do when upset—head to a restaurant with my best friends to pig out until I want to puke.
This time around, Chipper, Bianca Bella, and I devour lobster, crab legs, and scallops at The Seas Runneth Over. They enjoy wine while I’m stuck with lemonade. I want booze. I want to eat a thousand pounds of candy. I want Poet to message me, even if he thinks I’m lying about him being the father. I demand to be acknowledged!
“What are you thinking baby name-wise?” Chipper asks after ordering a slice of cheese cake. He leans back in his chair, and I wonder if he’ll undo his jeans soon. “I assume you’ll want to name the kid something very conservative to appease Gram and Grandpa Eddison.”
Bianca Bella picks at the rice on her plate as if just noticing something besides seafood was served. “Too bad you already used the name Balthazar for Hayes’s dog or you could name your kid after your pseudo granddaddy.”
I think about Hayes’s father who passed away a few years ago at the ripe old age of ninety-three. Balthazar was family for most of my life, and I wouldn’t mind naming my kid after him. But for some reason, the old man named his cat after his dead wife. In honor of his dad, Hayes named his new dog Balthazar. No way will my kid and the dog share a name.
An hour later, we remain at the restaurant. I’m whining about how Poet sucks, and I suck, and I think I’ll name a boy “Fernando” because it’s sexy, and I want my kid to grow up to be a player like his father. Meanwhile, Bianca Bella finishes a second bottle of wine and nearly falls into Chipper’s lap.
“I like the name London,” Chipper says after shoving her back into her seat. “I don’t like the actual city of London, though, and I worry people will assume I do if I name my kid London.”
“You’re drunk too.”
“Not really, but yeah,” he says, snickering.
“Booze is why I’m in this situation,” I mutter and pat my bloated stomach. “Precious, miracle booze.”
Frowning at my stomach, I wonder about the little itty-bitty tiny baby inside me. I’ve seen pictures of fetuses at eight weeks and talk about a fucking horror show.
“Hey, grumps, you got a text,” Chipper says and gestures toward my phone.
I don’t even attempt to be casual. The text from Poet—before I even read it—makes me smile like the mentally unhinged person I am.
“He didn’t ignore me. I have value,” I announce and they laugh at me.
“What’s his excuse for ignoring you all day?” Bianca Bella asks while trying to get a few more drops of wine out of the empty bottle.
I read the text twice before my brain wraps around what he’s saying.
“I’m at the White Horse Holiday Inn. Tell me where to meet you so we can talk.”
“Wait, what?” I ask the phone as if it’ll do the heavy lifting for me. “I’m tired and I don’t understand.”
Chipper takes my phone and stares for nearly a minute. “I think I drank too much wine.”
Bianca Bella swipes the phone from him and holds it an inch from her face. “O.M.G. You’re getting killed tonight, roadwhore.”
“I must have missed that part,” Chipper says, grabbing back the phone. “Oh, he’s here. In town. In the very town we’re currently in.”
“He’s here to kill you,” Bianca Bella whispers before bursting into laughter. “He has no idea how bad you’ll fuck him up.”
“No,” Chipper whispers into my other ear. “He’s here to stake his claim and claim his woman. Oh, I think I said ‘claim’ too much. Wait, did I?”
“What should I do?”
“I don’t know,” Bianca Bella mumbles. “Wait, can you call Hayes and find out if he’ll shoot someone for you?”
“You useless lushes need to come with me to meet him.”
Chipper pats my head. “We’ll spy on you two and make sure he doesn’t kill you.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say and prepare to text Poet. “Where should I ask to meet him?”
“A coffee shop is nice and public.”
“There’s one down the block too,” Chipper says. “Since driving drunk is wrong and illegal and I believe in laws.”
Rolling my eyes while they laugh at how drunk they are, I send a text to Poet.
“Can you meet me right now? I’m near The Java Stop a few blocks from your hotel.”
Less than a minute later, Poet sends a single word that makes my stomach flip.
“Yes.”
I type, “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” and set aside my phone. Patting my brother and Bianca Bella’s hands, I ask, “How do I look?”
“I wouldn’t kick you out of bed,” Bianca Bella says and tries to stand. “We should go to the restroom and clean
up.”
“Do I look shitty?” I ask Chipper.
“No, but Bianca Bella has sauce on her jaw.”
I half carry my friend to the restroom where she dunks her face under the faucet before remembering she’s wearing makeup.
“Oops,” she mumbles and reaches for the paper towels.
“I wish I was wearing something more flattering,” I say while checking my faded gray T-shirt for stains.
“Shut the fuck up, Cricket. You are beautiful, and that guy is lucky you’re giving him the time of day.”
“That’s sweet,” I whisper, hugging her. “I wish I hadn’t eaten so much and wasn’t so bloated.”
“I wish I hadn’t helped Chipper drink two bottles of wine and was feeling less ridiculous.” Bianca Bella grabs my face and says, “You know I’ve got your back. If shit turns bad, I’ll dial Hayes so fucking fast that this Poet guy’s head will fly off.”
Guiding her from the restroom, I’m startled to find Chipper waiting in the hallway.
“Paid the check,” he says and takes Bianca Bella by one arm and me by the other. “Now let’s start walking so we can get seated before Poet arrives. That way he’ll think BB and I are garden-variety customers rather than devious spies.”
“Why am I so nervous?” I ask my brother when we step into the warm summer evening. “I expected him to give me shit about the baby. Shouldn’t I take him showing up as a good thing?”
“Does he know where you live?” Bianca Bella asks while struggling with her now wet hair.
“No, just the town.”
“Good. If things go badly, we’ll ditch him and regroup back at the house.”
“How will we ditch him if the car is back at the restaurant?” I ask.
Chipper wraps his arm around my shoulders and I can’t help feeling reassured just like I did when we were kids. “If you give the signal that shit’s gone south, we’ll all take off running in different directions and meet back up at Wally’s Candy Shop on 7th Street.”
Bianca Bella snorts into laughter. “I’m wearing heels and the wrong bra for running.”
“He won’t be chasing you anyway,” I point out to the drunken idiots. “No running. I’m an adult woman who made an adult woman decision to spread my legs for an adult man. Now I’m carrying a child, so no running or acting stupid. I’m a mature fucker, and I will behave like one.”
“There’s the pep talk you were needing,” Chipper says and kisses the top of my head.
We enter the coffee shop and order our drinks. They find a spot near the window while I’m in a back corner near someone typing on a laptop. I consider running to the restroom to check my hair, but there’s no time before Poet walks back into my life, looking so much sexier than I remember.
Taking in the sight of him, I’m instantly more of a horny schoolgirl than a mature fucker.
POET
Cricket is a vision of unearthly beauty sitting in the corner of the coffee shop. Her brown hair is more golden than I remember, and her brown eyes richer. Even in a gray T-shirt and jeans, she lights up the shop.
Having texted Cricket as soon as I walked into my hotel room, I never expected such a quick response. When she asked to meet right away, I only had time to splash water on my face and reapply deodorant before I was out the door.
As I approach her now, Cricket starts to stand before changing her mind. She wipes her hands on her jeans and then rests them flat on the table. Cricket’s failed attempts at simulating calm does nothing beyond make me want to comfort her.
“I was surprised by your text,” she says when I drop into the chair next to hers. When I scoot closer, she swallows hard and reaches for her coffee. “Probably not as surprised as you were by my text.”
“I always knew you’d roll back into my life,” I say, brushing the hair from her shoulder. “I didn’t figure it’d be this way, but I can’t say I’m too bothered by the circumstances.”
“Really?” she asks, wide-eyed.
“What part don’t you believe? That I knew you’d return to me or how my kid couldn’t choose a better mom?”
Cricket opens her mouth to answer, but no words leave her lips. Perhaps pregnancy has turned her soft. Whatever the reason, she closes her mouth and remains silent.
Just then, I catch her glancing in the direction of her friends nearby. The guy kissed her outside. Just on the head, but I didn’t like their familiarity. Now though he’s having a ball with the dark-haired chick who is so clearly wasted that I’m surprised she hasn’t fallen out of her chair yet.
“I thought we were careful that night,” she finally says, but I know this isn’t what she’s really thinking.
“Could have happened when you woke me up to enjoy a hard ride. I mean you were half-asleep when you put on the condom.”
Cricket’s lips struggle against a smile as she remembers our night together. “I can’t believe you drove here.”
“Left as soon as I got your text.”
“What did you think would happen?”
“We’d sit down somewhere and talk. I’ve got some mighty powerful psychic powers, don’t I?”
“I don’t expect anything from you. I’m capable of raising the baby without you. I have a good family and money, and I don’t need your help. With that said, I think the kid would miss out if he didn’t know you.”
“Oh, he would. And don’t forget I have a good family too. Lots of fun aunts and grandparents and cousins. You might not think much of West Virginia, but it’s full of people who will love the shit out of this kid.”
Cricket smiles despite looking ready to cry. I don’t know if she’s normally emotional or her hormones are playing with her feelings. I was around when Justice and her sisters were pregnant. I remember the mood swings and so many out-of-nowhere tears. They’re highly dramatic women, though. It’s possible Cricket might be too.
“You and I,” I say, leaning closer, “don’t know each other, but we had a great night together, and I think about you all the time. This baby is fate telling us we’re more than a one-night stand. So let’s get to know each other and see if we click as well with our clothes on as we did naked and sweaty.”
Cricket runs her finger along the rim of her coffee. “How long can you stay in White Horse?”
“For as long as I want.”
“No one will miss you?”
“Jimmy might, but he gets spoiled when he stays with my dad and stepmom, Justice.”
“I’m assuming that’s your pet.”
“He’s a sweet old dog I found walking down the highway a few years ago. His owners ditched him, or he ran off and didn’t plan on going back. Looked mangy as hell and had an overbite no amount of headgear in the world could fix. I thought he might be a goner, but Justice’s mom is a vet and fixed him up.”
“And he’ll be okay without you?”
“Oh, he’ll survive,” I say as my fingers tease her throat.
“What about your job?”
“My father’s the club president these days. He’s way more interested in the grandbaby in your oven than me strutting around Tumbling Rock.”
“You do strut, don’t you?” she says, leaning a little closer before pulling back. “Did you want coffee?”
“Not really.”
“Well I can’t do shots,” she says and pats her belly.
My hand follows hers and rests on her stomach. “Are you having any bad symptoms yet?”
“Not really. I’m a little more tired and...” Cricket tapers off as her gaze holds mine. “I didn’t want to leave that day, and now you’re here, and I’m not sure how to feel.”
“Is that your way of saying I ought to keep my hands to myself?”
“Yes,” she says, but her gaze is saying something completely fricking different.
I remove my hand from her stomach before glancing at her friends watching us in an incredibly unsubtle way.
“They think you’re in trouble. Did you signal them that it’s time to make a run
for it?” I ask.
“How did you know?”
“I saw you walk in with them. I figured you wanted backup in case I was a freak.”
Never looking at her friends, Cricket studies my face. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“Now we can finally get our breakfast together.”
Smiling, she exhales softly. “I can’t sleep with you tonight. I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize for owning your feelings.”
“I know the fucking would be great, but I’m still dealing with you being here, and the fucking will distract me from caring about anything else.”
“No worries. I didn’t show up looking to get laid. My plans are long term, Cricket.”
“I’m not a long-term-thinking person. I do what I want and then deal with the fallout. It’s a luxury born from having a strong family at my back.”
“I’ll want to meet them.”
“Oh, they’ll want to meet you too,” she says, grinning brightly. “I don’t think you’ll be able to spend twenty-four hours in White Horse without my stepdad, Hayes, tracking you down. He owns this town, and I’m his only daughter.”
“I look forward to meeting him.”
Smiling, Cricket pats my hand. “You keep thinking that.”
Before I can ask if she’s eaten dinner, her friends knock over a cup of coffee and make a huge mess. I’d think their scene was an attempt to gain Cricket’s attention, but they laugh as if they’re barely aware that anyone else exists.
“Smooth,” Cricket says. “They drank too much at dinner.”
“You wouldn’t happen to still be hungry.”
Cricket’s dark eyes study my face in the most tender way. “No, I’m stuffed. I thought you were ignoring my text and I pigged out to deal with the pain.”
“Is that true?”
“Of course. I only lie to make myself look better. You should remember that.”
“I will,” I say and lean over to kiss her cheek.
Cricket turns quickly so her lips can meet mine. I’ve waited three long months to enjoy the taste of her again. Based on how immediately keyed up my body feels, I know the wait was more than worth it. This woman made me a believer, and I’d been praying for fate to bring us back together. Now that it has, I have no fricking intention of letting her go.
