This did nothing to dissuade her sunny mood. "Not yet! But who can say what the future will bring, hmm? I think once you're back where you belong it'll just click how much you two belong together, don't you think?"
Ah, so she assumed I was coming home. I wondered if Nolan told her about our deal or if she just came to that conclusion on her own. Either way, she was about to get a rude awakening.
"I"m not coming home mom," I said. "Or at least, I don't have any plans to right now. If Nolan turns out to be the father..."
"Of course he's the father! How could you even question that?" Her voice rose at least a few octaves, and I had to pull the phone away from my face so the sound didn't pierce my eardrums.
"Anyway, darling, let's talk about something a little more pleasant. I've had such a wonderful day and I wouldn't want to spoil it by getting into an argument with the daughter I never see. I hope you're home in time for the Harvest Festival. This year the Graysons have outdone themselves decorating the town square, and the whole place looks like it's straight out of a movie. The streamers, the lanterns... Oh, how they're going to glow at night! And the weather has just been fantastic, I must say. I've spent every night this week sipping sweet tea out on the back porch as the buzz of tractors and bugs fill the air. It's a little taste of the South. Simply wonderful."
Much as I loathed to admit it, all of that did sound pretty wonderful. I’d forgotten how dreamy the first few weeks of fall in Bridgefield could be. The smell of hay bales and the crackling of dry grass underfoot. No sirens at all hours of the day and night, just tractors and bugs like Mom said.
“You know, Aly and Dave Brighton are putting their house on the market soon. I know how much you love that place and I bet they’d work out a deal for you if you put in an offer.”
The Brightons lived down the street from my mom in a cute rancher with a white picket fence and a dreamy backyard oasis. Growing up, I always told my mom that someday I’d live there.
“I don’t have any money to be putting down a deposit,” I reminded her.
“Nolan told me he has a chunk saved up, and don’t think your old mother doesn’t have a penny or two put away. If you have enough credit for a mortgage, I’m sure it would be doable.”
For a moment, I allowed myself to be drawn away on a cloud of fanciful notion. Mom was wrong to think I'd ever live with Nolan again, but being back in Bridgefield wouldn't be so bad, would it? I could take my little boy or girl apple picking in the fall, and we'd curl up in front of the fire in the winter and watch the snow drift past outside. If the kid was Brendon's, Bridgefield wasn't so far away that he couldn't visit.
I rose from the couch with a sigh and started heading toward the kitchen for a glass of water. Meanwhile, my mom was still expounding the values of small town life.
"You should see all the kids getting excited for Halloween already," she said. "We used to have so much fun on Halloween, didn't we? It's such a quiet, safe community and you don't have to worry about what some stranger is going to put in your child's candy. Where would you even go trick or treating in New York?"
I paused with my hand on the handle of the fridge, but not because I was listening all that intently to my mother's ridiculous reasoning. The availability of Halloween trick or treating was not a factor I intended to base something as important as my future home on, though she had a fair few points.
All these points fell by the wayside as I took in the photo tacked to my fridge. It was of Jude, Brendon and I on our first day in Disneyland. Brendon was carrying Jude on his shoulders, and I was tucked against Brendon's side like I belonged there. The sun was bright in our eyes, but our smiles were brighter.
"Aurora, are you listening?"
Startled, I wondered how long I'd been zoning out.
"Uh, no," I replied. I grabbed the photo from the fridge and held it to my heart, closing my eyes and letting a tiny smile draw up the corners of my mouth. "I'm sorry mom, but it doesn't matter what you say. I'm staying here."
"What?"
How could I explain to her everything going through my head and my heart right now? I wanted Brendon so badly it hurt, and the idea of having a child with him was the single most amazing future I could think of. Maybe things were complicated right now, and maybe they'd never resolve themselves, but I wasn't going to abandon ship and crawl back home to Bridgefield just because of one little rough patch. I was going to weather this storm—for better or for worse.
"I'm not coming home. New York is my home now, and I'm committed to seeing this through."
Mom's voice grew into a near shriek. "You're just going to throw your life away because of this Sex in the City fantasy of yours? Don't you care about anyone other than yourself?"
She didn't know me at all if she thought this had anything to do with some fanciful New York lifestyle that I was hoping to achieve. It was about more than that. It was about independence. Freedom. Carving my own way in the world with my sweat and my toil.
Instead of telling her that, because I doubted she would listen, I simply said, "I do care about someone other than myself. More than you could possibly know."
She was still yowling when I hung up the phone. Mom hated when people hung up on her, and called back immediately afterward. I ignored it. If she didn't want to get hung up on, she should know better than to start screaming at me.
And if she wanted to continue our relationship, she should know better than to doubt my ability to find my own way.
Chapter 27
Aurora
Sunday evening, I was filled with anxiety about the day to come. I had a whole week in the office ahead of me, and I thought it highly unlikely that Brendon would occupy himself outside of the office the whole time just to avoid me. I hoped he wouldn't, anyway. I was desperate to see him, if only in passing. If he didn't want to talk to me, that was fine. Well, it wasn't fine, but I would forgive him for being a bit of a jerk.
After all, it's not every day your girlfriend announces she's pregnant with maybe-your-baby.
I was curled up on my sofa, a steaming mug of caffeine-free green tea in one hand and my phone in the other as I attempted to select a program on Netflix. Pregnancy was providing me with a host of strange cravings, and they didn't stop at pickles and ice cream. I was on the hunt for the perfect museum documentary to fulfill my desire for a quiet, calm ambience, but so far wasn't having much luck. Pregnancy had also made me indecisive. At least, that's what I was blaming it on.
Someone knocked on the front door and it startled me. I nearly spilled my tea, but managed to catch myself in the nick of time. I set the mug down on the side table and hiked the woolen blanket over my shoulders, staring over at the door like I thought I might be able to see through it.
Best case scenario, it was Brendon. That thought sent a cascade of happy shivers down my spine, and I nearly vaulted off the couch to let him in.
Worst case scenario though, it was Nolan. That thought was enough to stick my butt to this couch until the end of time. I figured he was also the more likely option, given my recent rabble-rousing chat with my mother and all. It would be like her to send her lap dog to do her bidding and put me in my place, and I wasn't much in the mood to be put in my place by anyone. I just wanted a nice relaxing evening where I didn't have to listen to anybody else's wants or demands.
Was that too much to ask?
I sighed and dropped my phone to the couch but kept the blanket around my shoulders as I stood to get the door. If it was Nolan, I had every intention of slamming it back in his face. Though I had told him I would go back with him if he was the baby's father, my most recent chat with my mother had more or less brought me to the decision that I was staying in New York. Bridgefield wasn't my home anymore and it never would be. Call me disingenuous, but I didn't feel bad for shirking our deal. As far as I was concerned, the scales were still heavily weighted in my favor when it came to being the better person in the relationship.
I steeled myself to deal with Nolan,
and cautiously hoped to see Brendon, but I opened the door to mysterious option C.
"Uh, hello," I said, taking in the handsome stranger in my doorway.
He was tall, though not quite as tall as Brendon. He had sandy hair that fell to the tops of his cheekbones, and it was styled to look like messy bedhead. His eyes were a steel gray, and they almost appeared lit from the inside. His full mouth was set above a pronounced dimpled chin, lips turned into a cocky smirk that I immediately wanted to smack off him—which was a strange urge considering I'd never met him before in my life. Based on his expensive looking suit and air of confidence, I surmised that if this person knew me, the connection was through Brendon.
"You're Aurora, correct?" he asked in a smooth, rich voice.
I frowned and pulled the blanket tighter. "It depends who's asking."
The stranger laughed, creasing the lines beside his eyes. Then he gave a short, courteous bow. "I'm Peter Vasiliev," he said. "I don't know if Brendon's mentioned me..."
"Once or twice in passing," I said, brow creasing with puzzlement. "You're his best friend, right? I've been petitioning to meet you but for some reason Brendon's been putting it off." I opened the door wider and waved him in.
Peter gamely slid his shoes off at the front door and I noticed he was wearing mismatched socks. One was a plain turquoise, while the other was white with little pineapples all over it. Strange.
Peter loped over to the couch and I followed, hovering uncertainly by the coffee table.
"Can I get you a drink?" I asked.
His eyes flashed. "That would be delightful. Got any tequila?"
"Tequila?" I grimaced. "Why on earth would you want tequila?"
Peter didn't answer, just smiled in a friendly way and stared. I guess he wasn't much a fan of answering a question with a question.
"No, I don't have any tequila," I said. "I've got beer."
"Beer will do just fine."
I nodded and went into the kitchen to grab my unexpected guest his beverage. I wasn't sure what to make of him or his visit, but I was suspicious. Was he here to tell me to stay away from Brendon? Was he here to offer me some sort of deal to get out of town and disappear forever? Maybe that was just something they did in movies, but visceral anxiety clawed through my stomach and made my hands shake as I uncapped a bottle of beer and carried it back out to him.
Peter took it, staring at my face instead of my outstretched hand. It was weird but I was glad because it meant he didn't see my hand quiver. I couldn't help it. My adrenaline was pumping like I was hosting a cougar in my apartment and not my potential baby-daddy's best friend, and I wondered if I had made a mistake in letting him in.
"If you wouldn't mind cutting to the chase..." I offered a weak smile and slid down opposite him. "You're making me kind of nervous."
Peter blinked lazily and took a draw of the beer. "You've got nothing to be nervous about."
"That's what they all say."
He laughed. "I mean it. I'm the one who orchestrated the beginning of your relationship, after all. I’m on your side." He finished with a flourish of his hands, like he'd just performed a magic trick.
Those words sent a rush of relief through me, even though I didn't know exactly what it meant to be on "my side" and why he would be on it in the first place. We'd never met and he was Brendon's friend, not mine.
I cleared my throat and tried for a friendly smile. "What do you mean by that?"
And how much did he know about Brendon’s and my first night together? Embarrassment sent a wave of heat to my face and chest, one that I knew would be clear as day.
"I was the one who nagged Brendon all the way to the whorehouse," Peter clarified. "If it weren't for me, you two would have never met, and wouldn't that be a shame?"
I let out a small laugh, but didn't correct him. If it weren't for me getting a job at Lock Knocks, Brendon and I would have never crossed paths again and the only thing that night would have achieved was setting me up for a lifetime of wondering what if. Still, I supposed I could see his part in the whole thing, not that I was thrilled he'd peer-pressured my boyfriend into visiting a brothel.
"You must be a great friend," I replied sardonically. "What are you doing here, though?"
Peter took a long drink from the bottle, emptying half of it. I might've thought it was nerves if he didn't seem to enjoy it so much. This man had probably never been nervous about a thing in his life. He reminded me of the human equivalent of a mischievous feline. I wouldn’t be surprised if his next move was to knock the flower pot on my coffee table to the floor.
"I wondered if I could give you some advice." Peter wiped his lips on the back of his sleeve and waited for my answer.
I sighed.
“I have a feeling I don’t have much of a choice in the matter. You're here. You're comfy."
Peter laughed and his eyes filled with delight. He put the beer down on the table next to him and rubbed his hands together, eyeing me with amusement.
"I figured there had to be a reason that Brendon was so smitten with you. I'm glad to see for myself."
"Peter..."
"Fine, fine," he said. "I'll get on with it." He settled further into his seat, shifting his back to and fro to get the perfect position. "Brendon is more in love with you than I've ever seen him. I don't think I've ever seen him in love before period, and if I had to be sure about one thing in life it would be that Brendon wants you and he wants the baby you've created together."
My heart swelled with a burst of positive emotions. I hadn't felt so good in days, but I was preparing myself for a steep drop. I doubted Peter had come all this way just to tell me that Brendon loved me. And hey, why couldn't Brendon tell me that his goddamn self?
Peter read the questions in my eyes and held up his hand to stop me.
"Now, now, I'm not finished. He does love you and he does want you, but you have also hurt him. He's never been hurt so badly or so deeply and he is not handling it well. I can tell you from firsthand experience that the man is a mess right now, and if it weren't for his apparent inability to get his shit together and figure it out for himself, I wouldn’t be here."
I laughed. I couldn’t picture Brendon not having his shit together. It was too paradoxical. "I'm not sure I believe you."
"Believe me." Peter leveled his gaze with mine. "He's being a bit of a baby if I do say so myself, and though I haven't been around here, I'd say you're not doing much better."
"Hey!" I protested. "I'm doing just fine."
Peter raised his eyebrows and stared at me pointedly. "Have you left your apartment this weekend?"
I only glared, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of answering his question. He laughed and rose to his feet, already strolling toward the door.
"Is that it?" I called after him. "You drop in to offer some sage advice and then head back out into the night?"
"Are you inviting me to stay?" he purred.
I gulped and shook my head. "Uh, thanks, I guess."
Peter stopped at the door and looked back at me. "Anytime."
He winked and was gone, like the Ghost of Relationships Present.
I thought about Peter's visit the whole way to work. I'd considered calling Brendon the moment Peter left, but I decided it was too late and that I could talk to him in the morning.
While I wasn't filled with dread at seeing him anymore, I wasn't exactly buoyed up by hope. I kept rewinding our conversation in my head to see if I'd missed something, if Peter was trying to mislead me somehow. It seemed too good to be true that Brendon and I were just going to go back to the way things were because of an observation his friend had passed along, but I had to try.
My original plan had been to wait until I got the results of the DNA test back, but if Brendon really loved me that much, would it matter? I certainly hoped not. And if it did, maybe he wasn't the kind of guy I wanted around in the first place. This baby was my priority.
I strode into the office with all the confi
dence and pep of someone with a man and a mission on their mind. Too bad Brendon wasn't there.
I stopped in front his receptionist's desk and waited for the slight girl to notice me. She looked up with a big smile.
"Hello, Ms. Frayser. How can I be of assistance?"
"I was just wondering if Brendon's working from home again today?" I asked, praying to every god there was for her to say no. I didn't think I could wait until the end of the work day to talk to him.
"He's at the Fifth Avenue Store until after lunch," she replied. "I can get a message to him, if you'd like?"
I shook my head. "No, that's okay. Thank you!"
I was already off, racing back toward the elevator like a marathon sprinter with gold in my sights.
It took far longer than I would have preferred to reach Lock Knocks, but soon I stood in front of the large glass doors, short of breath, already searching through the glass for Brendon's silhouette. I pushed my way inside, trying to skirt carefully around the customers milling around one of the new displays at the front of the store.
Should I do an announcement for him like he was a lost child? Should I run around screaming his name until he heard me?
Luckily, I was saved from having to do anything of the sort. I stumbled into the baby section and there he was, standing amongst the cribs with Jessie at his side. Their heads were bent in conversation, and Brendon was pointing animatedly at the cribs around him. As I got closer, I could pick up their conversation.
"....most important, don't you think? Comfort, yes, but safety is really the name of the game here. That being said, is there a different option for side sleepers versus back sleepers? Is there a distinction among infants?"
I couldn't help but laugh, and doing so caught the attention of the store manager and the man of my dreams.
Chapter 28
Brendon
Never was there a more humbling moment in my life than having to enter Lock Knocks as a customer while I tried to navigate the ins and outs of baby supplies.
Lieutenant Commander Stud Page 60
