Memories of You: An Mpreg Romance

by Austin Bates

“Are you going to do it?” asked Luke. At least Allen was managing to rebuild his friendship with Hunter without problem.

  “Yeah,” said Hunter, sounding a little uncertain.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just that my friend doesn’t want me to do this job.” Hunter shook his head. “He hasn’t given me any good reasons not to though.”

  Luke clenched his jaw and tried to suppress the jealous bile that had started to rise in his stomach. He still had no idea who this ‘friend’ was and Hunter had given him no clues. He hadn’t even hinted at a name.

  “I had to tell him that I was going to do it and there was nothing he could say to stop me,” said Hunter with a shrug. “Now he’s not answering my texts or my phone calls. He’s completely avoiding me.”

  “Honestly,” said Luke, “I would ignore him. If he’s acting like that because he didn’t get his way, then he’s probably not worth your time anyway.”

  “Luke...” Hunter seemed bothered by his negative tone. “He’s been really good to me. He’s looked out for me and tries to help take care of me when I need it. I know he’s a little overbearing, but he’s not all that bad.”

  Realization slowly dawned on Luke. He’d heard this speech, or one like it, from Hunter before.

  There were still a few more people it could possibly be, but Luke’s suspicions settled on a single individual, the only one he could think of that would jump at the chance to try and secure Hunter’s heart for himself once more. Vincent Crane.

  Vincent’s manipulative tendencies had dug themselves into Hunter’s heart before Luke had ever met him. From the sound of things, the process had already begun again.

  Luke had won Hunter away from Vincent once before, and he knew he could do it again. Unfortunately, that battle had taken place over several years. It had been a grueling struggle that had strained everyone and left scars. If he could avoid putting Hunter through that again then he would. That didn’t leave him with many tools to work with, however.

  He knew from experience that attacking Vincent’s character or speaking out against his actions would only drive Hunter towards him. He’d likely already begun painting Luke as the villain in all of this. That meant he was already starting from behind. The only sliver of hope he had was Hunter seemed to be a bit more willful this time around.

  “I’m sorry,” said Luke after a moment. “You’re right. I don’t know him.”

  Hunter seemed to relax again. “I know he’s not perfect, but he’s admitted as much to me himself. I think he’ll start to relax if I give him a little time to realize that I’m not going anywhere and there’s no need to hold so tightly.”

  “You might be right,” said Luke, clenching his fist beneath the table. “It sounds like you’ve got everything under control.”

  “I don’t know,” said Hunter. “A lot of the time I just feel like I’m making everything up as I go along.”

  Luke chuckled to himself. “Welcome to adulthood.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “This is one of Luke’s?” asked Hunter, looking at the painting of a cityscape against a multi-hued sunset that Allen was holding up for him.

  “Yup,” said Allen with a nod. “Our boy is one of the best painters in the city. Which is saying something in a city like ours.”

  “Are there a lot of artists here?” asked Hunter, watching as Allen carefully slid the canvas into its protective box.

  “Quite a few. It helps that the local college has one of the best art programs available. You won’t find a better art education unless you start looking at private colleges with specialty art schools and those get expensive.” Allen tucked the box under one arm and made his way out of the storage room.

  Allen’s house was expansive. It was easily one of the largest residences available within the city itself, and it was positioned on a bluff overlooking the downtown area. He stored all of the paintings he was currently shopping to customers in the temperature controlled storage room he’d had built specifically for that purpose. It was clear he took his job seriously.

  Despite the fact that he was an art dealer though, the majority of his home’s furnishings were relatively down to earth. The art pieces on the walls were simple and blended into the background. It was clear that despite his somewhat flamboyant personality, Allen’s personal taste was much more down to earth.

  “Did Luke go to school there?” Hunter asked. They walked through Allen’s house together and out to the cherry red convertible that sat in the driveway with its top down.

  Allen laughed. “Luke doesn’t have any formal training at all. Which is another thing people like to pick at. People seem to forget that a lot of great artists from history didn’t have any training either. The very people they’re studying were exactly like Luke in a lot of ways.”

  Allen tucked the painting into the back seat of the convertible. “Well, let’s hit the road. The customers are expecting us.”

  Hunter hadn’t really been sure what to expect from his first time shadowing Allen as he did his job. It seemed like the people had already decided to buy the painting. They even had a spot picked out already, but they kept dragging things out, and acting like they were unsure of whether or not this was the painting they actually wanted.

  Allen talked up the quality of the painting, the subject matter, and shared details about Luke that Hunter wasn’t sure were entirely true. In the end, however, he offered to give them a pair of tickets to his gallery opening as well. They immediately accepted his offer and money changed hands.

  “What was that all about?” asked Hunter as he and Allen hopped back into the convertible and pulled away from the house.

  “That was just part of the job,” said Allen. “My gallery opening is an exclusive event. Not only does it feature one of the best artists in the city, but it’s going to be full of the social elite. Everyone wants in. These people have been thinking about buying that painting for a while now, but they’ve been sitting on the fence because the rumor mill has been saying that I just bought a gallery and might be doing a show soon.”

  “When I finally announced that I’m going to be opening in two weeks, they were one of the first ones to call me up and say they’d finally decided to buy that painting. The little back and forth in there was basically a negotiation. I knew what they wanted, but I had to make them work for it a little. Otherwise it would’ve all been too easy and the value of the tickets would’ve dropped. Now they can brag to their friends that they ‘managed to persuade’ me to throw in a pair of tickets with their latest purchase.”

  “So then their friends all come to you hoping for the same thing,” concluded Hunter.

  “Look at that! You’re already catching on. I think you’re going to be better at this than even I could have predicted.” Allen laughed.

  “YOU DID GOOD TODAY,” said Allen as he dropped Hunter off outside of his apartment building. “We’ll have a few more of these to do before the gallery show. After that, however, things should die down quite a bit and we can focus on training you to hold down the gallery on your own. What do you think about that?”

  “It sounds great, Allen,” said Hunter with a smile as he climbed out of the car. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “See you around!” shouted Allen as he revved the engine of the convertible and whipped out into traffic before disappearing down the street.

  “Hunter!” a voice shouted, and Hunter turned to see Vincent walking towards him. He must have been waiting outside the building again. Hunter sighed. At least he was talking to him again.

  “Vincent, I didn’t expect to see you today.” Hunter shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  “Hunter, I know I overreacted last time. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine,” said Hunter with a shrug. “It really doesn’t matter.”

  “But it does,” said Vincent. “I love you, Hunter. I love everything about you, and I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

>   People walking by were beginning to stare as Vincent’s declaration of love dragged onward. Hunter’s face flushed with embarrassment as Vincent got down on one knee and held one of his hands towards Hunter.

  “I know you don’t yet return my affections,” said Vincent, projecting his voice so that everyone nearby could easily hear. “But I pledge myself to you. I swear to stay true to you all the days of my life. Even if you never return my love, I will stay by your side. Because you are everything to me, Hunter, and I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”

  “Vincent please, this is too much.” whispered Hunter as the crowd that had formed around them waited for his response.

  “I know you’re embarrassed by this display of affection,” continued Vincent, “but my heart is overflowing with love for you. I can’t picture myself by anyone else’s side. So please, at least take my hand. Show me that even though you may not be able to return my love, at least you won’t spurn it.”

  “Vincent...” Hunter felt trapped. The crowd watched in anticipation. Vincent kneeled before him, hand outstretched, waiting. They were all rooting for him to take Vincent’s hand and say something as equally poetic. They wanted him to overcome the picture of tragic love Vincent had painted for them. Or at the very least, play along.

  Unless he wanted to dart out into traffic, there was no escape. Unless he wanted to stand there in awkward silence until the crowd got bored, he had no other option than to take Vincent’s hand. Slowly, he lifted his hand. He could already feel the intensity of the crowd’s gaze tightening in on him.

  Vincent’s waiting hand reached for his.

  “All right everyone, break it up. You’re blocking the path.” Luke’s voice cut through the crowd and shattered the moment.

  Hunter released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

  “Would you kindly get out of the way?” Luke’s voice continued as the crowd slowly began to dissipate. Slowly but surely, Luke appeared, escorting one of the building’s elderly residents from the door to the car that was waiting for her at the curb.

  Without the crowd to hold him in place, Hunter stepped away from Vincent’s outstretched hand.

  “Have a good day, Mrs. Ross,” said Luke, waving goodbye to the car as it pulled away.

  Vincent climbed to his feet. His knee was stained from the damp of the sidewalk, his face was flushed with the cold, and his expression was one of utter disdain.

  At first, Hunter thought the expression was directed at him. It took him a moment to realize Vincent was staring at Luke. The two of them had locked eyes and an electric tingle filled the air between them.

  Vincent had implied there was history between him and Luke, but he’d never said what exactly had happened. If the tension in the air was anything to go by, it was nothing good.

  “It’s been a while,” said Luke after a moment. “I didn’t realize you were back in town.”

  “It’s been a few weeks,” replied Vincent. “I got a job at one of the firms here in town.”

  The exchange was polite, but Hunter could feel an undercurrent of mutual hatred boiling between the two men. As much as he wanted to defuse the situation, he worried that anything might set the two of them off.

  “Don’t get into too much trouble,” said Luke, turning back towards the building.

  “I never do,” replied Vincent, turning away from him. “Come with me, Hunter. I want to take you out to dinner.”

  Luke glanced back and Hunter realized he’d been caught in an impromptu tug of war between the two men. Whatever option he chose, there were going to be consequences that he wasn’t prepared to deal with.

  He spotted a flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye. Throwing his arm skyward he shouted, “Taxi!” and darted out into the road.

  “You’re crazy, running out in the street like that,” chastised the taxi driver as Hunter climbed into the back of the cab. “Where are you headed?”

  “Just start driving. I’ll figure it out in a second.”

  Hunter looked back at the two men staring after him with dumbfounded expressions on their faces. He breathed a sigh of relief. He’d somehow managed to escape without the entire situation imploding around him. Whatever issues the two of them had they could sort it out for themselves and leave him out of it.

  “AND YOU JUST LEFT THEM both standing there?” Allen laughed as they sat in the living room of Allen’s house. “I can guarantee you that neither of them expected that.”

  Hunter sank back against the cushions of the chair he was sitting in. “I just didn’t know what else to do,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind me coming here. I didn’t have enough money to have the driver take me all the way to my parents’ house.”

  “Not at all, not at all,” Allen reassured him. “As long as this is my sanctuary, consider it yours as well.”

  “So, I guess now I need to know,” began Hunter with a frown. “I need to know what the story is between those two. What sort of mess am I in the middle of?”

  “That is above my pay grade,” said Allen, holding up his hands and shaking his head. “If you want that story then you’re going to have to go right to the source.”

  “I’ve already heard Vincent’s side of it,” said Hunter. “He basically told me that Luke was a manipulative ex-boyfriend that’s trying lead me astray.”

  “I can assure you that nothing is further from the truth,” said Allen.

  “Yeah, but why would Vincent lie to me?”

  “There are a lot of reasons why someone would lie,” countered Allen, clearly trying to be evasive. “Like I said before though, this conflict is outside my purview.”

  Hunter eyed him for a long moment but finally decided to let it drop. He was finally going to have to ask Luke for his side of the story.

  “Look, I know you’ve got a world of trouble following you around out there. I know it’s probably pretty crazy trying to navigate all of this without any of your memories.” Allen’s voice had taken on a sincere tone. “I promised I wouldn’t say anything to influence your opinion of him, but I’m going to break that promise just this one time.”

  “You have absolutely nothing to fear from Luke Morrison.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “Is he all right?” asked Luke, sitting in his apartment busily trying to finish another painting. He held his cellphone to his ear with his free hand.

  “Yeah, he’s asleep on the sofa right now,” Allen reassured him. “I’ll bring him home in the morning. He’s a lot feistier than he used to be, that’s for certain.”

  “I honestly wasn’t expecting that,” said Luke, sitting back and looking towards the window where the lights of the city glittered back at him. “It was probably the best option for him though. Hopefully, Vincent backs off a little. What was he thinking with a display like that?”

  “The old Hunter would have gone for it,” said Allen. “For a hotshot lawyer, he didn’t have a lot of confidence in himself outside of the courtroom. Vincent took advantage of that and played on his insecurities and their shared past. But it’s different now.”

  “He might be a little bolder, a little more stubborn, and less predictable, but I still see Hunter underneath all of that.” Luke stood in front of the window and stared at his reflection.

  “Perhaps, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he throws us all for a loop again before too long,” chuckled Allen. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t work yourself too hard.”

  As the line went dead, Luke lowered himself into one of the overstuffed chairs by the window. After Hunter had run off, Vincent had slunk away without another word. Luke had spent the better part of the evening pacing his apartment and churning out paintings that he hoped would evolve into something worth finishing.

  So far, his apartment floor was littered with half painted canvases.

  Once he’d heard from Allen, however, Luke’s tension had evaporated. The painting currently sitting on his easel had shifted, and a new figure had appeared in the
foreground. Hunter. Every effort he made to keep Hunter out of his art was met with defeat. The deadline for Allen’s gallery opening was looming, and he had almost nothing prepared.

  He’d allowed himself to get distracted by cooking lessons and old rivalries. Now he needed to focus on the task at hand.

  Luke stretched, cracked his knuckles, and grabbed his brushes.

  “I CAN’T LET YOU PUT these in the gallery,” said Allen, shaking his head as he stood in the middle of Luke’s apartment.

  Six freshly painted canvases lay on the floor displaying scenes of city. Luke was sitting on the couch nearby, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands, and staring blankly at Allen with dark circles and heavy bags beneath his eyes.

  “I realize you worked hard on them,” continued Allen as he stepped between the canvases and looked at each of the scenes in turn, “but these all look rushed even for you. They all look like you painted them just to get something painted. There’s no point to them. There’s none of your signature emotion. They’re just half-decent paintings that any art student at the college could do.”

  Luke dragged himself off the sofa with heavy limbs. He had pulled all-nighters before, but this had been particularly exhausting. He’d never worked so hard to paint something other than what he wanted. Now to find out even his biggest supporter thought they were garbage was more than a little soul crushing.

  He grabbed a bottle of paint from one of the shelves nearby and moved purposefully towards the canvases on the floor. Allen didn’t try to stop him, he merely stepped aside and watched as Luke began pouring paint across the canvases.

  Frustration poured from him as he splattered paint across the scenes he had worked so hard on. He grabbed another bottle of paint in a different color and continued his paint splattering rampage. The scenes of quiet city life were marred, partially obscured by the mess, but still visible as a whole. Paint sprawled across them, dripped between them and across the floor, puddled around them, and was tracked as bare foot prints by the rampaging artist.