by Tia Siren
“What happened with your parents?” I asked as we entered my kitchen.
I was expecting her response to be the usual “it’s none of your business.” However, I was pleased—and shocked—when instead she sighed and offered a real explanation.
“After I told my mom, things between her and Dad got tense. You know how understanding and accepting Mom is, and her support pissed Dad off big time.” Amelia shook her head and took a deep breath before she continued. “They haven’t even spoken in days. And then today, I went over there for our weekly family dinner, and Mom showed me some clothes she’d bought for my son and Dad lost it. I’ve never heard him yell like that.”
There was that word again. Son.
I looked down at her ever-growing stomach and smiled at the evidence of my son—or rather, her son. A new wave of self-loathing hit me as I grabbed a container from the fridge and shoved it inside the microwave. For some reason, Amelia showed up beside me and covered her hand with mine.
I turned to her and blinked a few times, trying to understand what was happening and why I was enjoying it so much.
“You can’t put the foil in the microwave.” She looked at me like I was crazy.
I glanced at our joined hands and noticed that she was not really touching me; she was simply keeping the microwave door open. I cleared my throat. “Sorry. I got distracted,” I muttered as I reached inside to remove the foil from the plate. Once it was balled up in my hand, Amelia smiled and closed the door. I typed the time and cleared my throat. “You were saying?”
With a raised brow, she walked over to the island and sat on one of the stools. “I was saying that I didn’t want to be alone, and since my best friend is in London and no one else knows the truth about you and the baby, you were my only option. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Trust me, you’re all right,” I muttered. “I’m not as shitty of a person as I might seem. You’re always welcome here, Amelia.”
She grew silent at my words. I felt her eyes on me as I took her food out of the microwave and placed it in front of her. I sat beside her and watched as she ate. It was hard to explain, but I felt a need to make sure that she—and our son—were well fed and healthy. The fear and agony I had felt that day at the hospital was something I was determined to never feel again.
“Can I ask you something?” Amelia hesitantly asked after two bites of risotto.
I nodded and leaned on the counter. “Sure. I don’t see why not.”
She took a long breath and looked down at her plate. “Why exactly don’t you want to be responsible for the baby?”
I knew she had been silently wondering that for the past few months, but I hadn’t expected her to actually ask me about it. Or maybe I had just hoped she wouldn’t since I wasn’t comfortable talking about that subject.
My family history and the reason why I was so against committing and having a family of my own was something I had never discussed with anyone. Most people assumed I wasn’t ready to grow up, which was partially correct. However, it wasn’t the whole truth.
For a moment, I debated whether or not I should answer her. Then I realized that in spite of my personal feelings, Amelia deserved some answers. I just wasn’t sure I was ready to give them to her.
“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” she said after a few long minutes of silence. “I’m just curious.”
I straightened my back and shook my head. “I just . . . I just don’t know how to talk about it,” I explained. “I’ve never talked about it with anyone. It’s something I’d rather keep locked back in the past, you know?”
Amelia tilted her head. “And you think that’s healthy?”
“Of course it’s not healthy,” I said with a chuckle. “But alcohol, money, and sex make excellent therapists.”
She looked half amused and half sympathetic. “Weird, I though they were only great at momentarily covering those metaphorical holes in people’s hearts.”
With me usually only talking to airheaded models, I was used to only having shallow and pointless conversations with the opposite sex. For that reason, her insight and sharp wit felt refreshing and incredibly alluring. I couldn’t help the smirk that formed on my face.
“As a matter of fact, they do. They’re also amazing escapes from reality and responsibility.” Amelia laughed at my words. It was a sound I thoroughly enjoyed and hoped to hear more often. Once her laughs died, I asked, “Do you really want to know?”
She nodded. “I do.”
“Fine, but I’m not talking about this sober.” I sighed and stood up from the stool.
Amelia continued to eat as I walked over to the little bar I kept in the living room and poured myself a hefty glass of scotch. She watched me as I returned to the kitchen and took my seat.
“My dad was almost forty when he married my mom. She was nineteen,” I started after a gulp of the amber liquid. Amelia sat quietly, eating my words up with as much gusto as she ate the risotto. “I don’t remember them actually acting like they were in love. It was more like he paid the bills and she did whatever he told her to do.” I scoffed and looked out the kitchen window as I added, “They did have two children, so I guess they must have had some good times. I just never understood how she could possibly want anything to do with him.”
I shook my head and looked back at Amelia. She had stopped eating and was now devoting her full attention to me. “You see, my father was a class-A jerk. He did drugs, cheated on my mother, and couldn’t keep a job to save his life. My mom had to work two full-time jobs to support us, and he still blew whatever she earned on women and drugs.”
The words were hard for me to say. I hated that life and every memory attached to it. Seeing my discomfort, Amelia’s hand covered mine in a display of affection and support that only added a new layer to my distress. For me, it was easier to bury my dick in a random pussy than to have someone I was starting to care about show me affection.
I pulled my hand out of her grasp but smiled at her so I wouldn’t seem too rude. She gave an understanding glance as I continued. “When I got older, I got a job mowing lawns to help Mom with the bills, but he took that money too,” I muttered before I gulped down my scotch. “One day my mom reached her breaking point and confronted him, but instead of respect, that asshole gave her a black eye and a broken nose. I was too young and afraid to step in and help her, so he continued to beat her up until she’d finally had enough.
“The last time I ever saw my mother was on a cold winter morning. I remember her kissing my brother and me before leaving for work, but instead of returning for dinner, she disappeared.”
Amelia stared at me with so much emotion in her eyes that it was almost too much for me to take. I looked down at my empty tumbler, desperately wishing I had at least one more drop to drown the pain in my chest.
“I’m so sorry, Kellan. I really am,” Amelia said, and her voice was so honest, it melted a little of the coldness in my heart.
My gaze shot up to meet hers, and I gave her a half smile. “You see now why I don’t get attached to people, especially women? I loved her so much, and she just left me like I was nothing.”
Instead of annoying me with questions, Amelia only sat there in silence, staring at me with kind and non-judgmental eyes. For some reason, her behavior made me a smidge more comfortable, so I continued my story.
“After she left, my dad started beating my brother and me. He used the little money my mother left us to feed his addiction, and when the nuisance of buying food for his children became too much, he dropped us off at his parents’ house and disappeared. From what I know, he met someone else not too long after and moved on with his life.”
“What happened to your brother?” she asked, gathering the last of the risotto on her fork and bringing it to her mouth.
I shrugged. “He got into drugs in high school and chose to stay in a dump instead of coming to New York with me. He died of an overdo
se eight years ago.”
“Is he the reason you don’t want to be responsible for the baby?”
My brows furrowed as I stared at her. Up until that moment, I hadn’t made the connection myself, but I could see it now. If hadn’t even been able to care for my brother and keep him straight, what good could I possibly do for a child?
“I guess, but it’s not just that,” I said with a shrug. “I drink and work all the time, Amelia. I have a different woman almost every night of the week, and I feel no remorse that I don’t even know their names. I’m too much like my dad to have a kid.”
She nodded. “I get that, but don’t you think that completely abandoning your son makes you exactly like both your parents? I don’t mean to hurt you, I really don’t, but if you go on like this, you’ll be no better than them. You’ll have chosen yourself and booze and women over your child and perpetuated their mistakes.”
Deep down, I knew she was right. However, her words bit at me in the most painful way. I hated that she was using my deepest and darkest secrets to teach me a lesson I didn’t want to learn. In a knee-jerk reaction, I got up from the chair and glared at her.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I barked as I made my way back to the living room to refill my glass.
Despite my desperate need for distance, Amelia followed me.
“Yes, I do know. You’re scared. That’s what’s happening,” Amelia said. I looked up to glare at her, but it didn’t stop her one bit. She continued to walk toward me and speak as if she couldn’t see the anger on my face. “You built a life around not caring because that way you’re safe. You have nothing to lose and no one to hurt you, which is why you’re so bent on not being around for our baby and me.”
I was fuming by the time Amelia stopped in front of me. I took deep breaths to calm myself as I watched her raise the hem of her sweater to expose her pregnant belly. My brows pulled together as I looked down at it. It was still small, but it left no doubt that a little person was growing inside it. Without taking her gaze from me, Amelia reached for my hand and placed my palm over her bare flesh. I tried to pull it away, but she held it there.
“Life is not safe, Kellan,” she continued, exasperated. “I had sex for the first time and ended up pregnant. I’ve been a great daughter my whole life, and now my father won’t even look at me. I’m scared to death because I have no idea how to be a mother, let alone a single mother, but I’m still here. I’m holding on because that’s what people do and that’s what this baby—our baby—needs.”
As if agreeing with his mother, the little nugget inside Amelia’s belly moved. I felt it in my palm, and my insides fluttered as a result. At that unexpected reaction at the baby boy growing inside her, my anger grew, and I pulled my hand away. My eyes narrowed at her, and I measured my words so they would make her feel as shitty as she was making me feel.
“Don’t pretend to be a victim or better than me, Amelia. And don’t blame your stupidity on life. It’s not its fault that you couldn’t keep your legs closed.”
I took one breath, and everything was silent.
I took a second breath, and the clapping sound of her small hand slapping my face echoed through the room.
I took a third breath, and my hands reached for her face and my mouth covered hers.
Amelia’s lip opened to welcome me, and I kissed her with anger and passion and the longing I had hidden for so long. Her arms draped around my neck, and I pulled her close, crushing her soft body against mine. Even with her bulging stomach, she made me more aroused than any other woman on the planet.
With each soft moan that passed through her lips, my cock grew harder. I wanted—needed—to feel her warmth around me and get lost in her. I had never felt such intense desire, and it was enough to jolt me back to reality.
We couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this.
I pulled away and stepped back. “I can’t do this.”
Amelia’s swollen and deliciously red lips curled up in a smile. She took a step in my direction. “Yes, you can. We both want this, and I’m already pregnant. There’s nothing more that can happen.”
If only that were true, I thought. There was a lot more that could happen. I could fall in love, I could have a family, I could open myself up, and then she could leave or die or get hurt, and I’d be crushed. It was a risk too high for me to take.
“No. You want this,” I said, taking another step away from her. “I told you to stay away from me, and I meant it. I don’t want to get involved with the baby or you. You can spend the night, but you have to leave in the morning. I’ll have my driver pick you up.”
Before she could see the self-directed disgust on my face, I turned around and walked toward my bedroom. I felt her eyes on me as I closed my door and sank down to the floor.
Chapter Nine
Amelia
The bed was fantastic, but I couldn’t sleep worth a crap.
For hours I tossed and turned, lost in thoughts and old dreams. As much as I wanted to hate Kellan for everything he had put me through over the last few months, I couldn’t. There was no question that he had inherited his father’s jerk gene, but now that I knew his whole story, I understood that for him it was only a defense mechanism. His true self was a lot gentler and more vulnerable than he showed, and I liked that he had allowed me to see his truth. I also hated myself for how I had handled it.
There was no denying that he wanted me as much I wanted us to be a family. I had loved him since I was a girl, and, for some bizarre reason, I loved him still. Plus, he was my child’s father, and deep down I knew that, given a chance, Kellan would be a great dad. However, I also knew that I couldn’t force him to be involved; that desire had to come from him. All I could do was lay to rest my childish dreams of how things should be, accept Kellan for what he was, and hope that one day he would wake up and own up to the feelings he so clearly had for me.
With a heavier heart and a calmer mind, I finally drifted off to sleep.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up to the brightness of the sun shining in my eyes. I fluttered my lids open and smiled when vomit didn’t instantly rise up my throat. It was the first time since I had gotten pregnant that I felt good upon waking. It was a great change that not only put me in a good mood but also gave me hope that the rest of the day would be just as great.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I stood and stretched my back. I looked at the chair where I had left my clothes the night before, but they were nowhere to be seen. In their place was a folded baby blue, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. Above the clothes was a piece of paper that read:
Took your clothes to wash.
They’ll be ready soon. In the meantime, wear this. –K
I wasn’t sure how I felt about Kellan walking in while I slept naked and taking my clothes away, but the gesture of leaving clean garments for me to wear was sweet enough to make me smile.
His shirt looked like a dress on me, so I skipped the shorts and folded the sleeves as I walked out of the room. I made my way down the hall, toward the kitchen. Once I arrived there, I found Kellan sitting at the dining table with a piece of toast and a cup of coffee in front of him. At the sound of my approaching steps, he looked up from the newspaper he was reading and tossed me a lazy smile.
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he greeted.
My lips curled up into a pleased smile. Not only did he seem to be in a much better mood, but he also looked gorgeous with his hair disheveled and his reading glasses on. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt and sweats, which made him look younger and more relaxed than usual. I liked it.
“Good morning, yourself,” I greeted, and took a seat across from him. “Did you sleep well?”
“Surprisingly, yes,” he said, folding his paper to give me his full attention. He nodded toward the kitchen and added, “There’s food in there. You can have whatever you want. Though I have to warn you that I
drank all the coffee.”
I chuckled as I got up. “That’s all right. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby anyway.”
Inside his fridge, I found some orange juice as well as bread and fixings for a nice sandwich. It wasn’t my typical breakfast, but after months of not even being able to look at food in the mornings, I was excited to have a feast. Once my sandwich was ready, I carried it and a glass of juice toward the table.
Kellan’s face beamed at my plate. “Hungry?”
“Oh, my god, yes!” I said a bit more emphatically than expected, making both of us laugh. Once our chuckles died, I cleared my throat and decided that now was as good time as any to say what I needed to say to Kellan.
“I’m sorry about what I said last night,” I started. “I was insensitive and out of line. I just . . . I just think you’d make a great father. I can’t help but feel sad that you and the little guy here will miss out on having a relationship with each her, but I won’t nag you about it anymore. I promise.”
He was silent for a long time, and understanding that the conversational part of the morning was over, I focused on my breakfast. Although I kept my eyes focused on everything but him, I could feel Kellan’s gaze on me as I ate. It was unnerving and exhilarating.
I was almost done with my sandwich when he spoke. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did,” I pointed out. Kellan rolled his eyes at my smart-ass reply, so I added, “Go ahead.”
He took a deep breath and said, “Why did you choose me that day at the show?”
My heart raced at his question. “You’ve already asked me that.”
“I know.” He nodded and added, “But you never answered it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
For a couple of minutes, my words hung between us. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could tell by his heavy breathing that Kellan was anxious as well. I had no idea why, though. He wasn’t the one about to completely humiliate himself. I was.
