The Baby Race

by Tara Wylde

  Hell, no, I don’t. I shake my head. The adrenaline’s wearing off, and I feel like a huge blob of jelly. “His car—his car’s still—“

  “Don’t worry. I let the air out of his tires.”

  He really did have a plan. A well-baked one.

  I let my head loll back against the seat. I can actually feel the tension leaving my body. My legs start to tremble. My hands let go of fists I didn’t know I was making. I’m suddenly thirsty, and hungry, and kind of sick at the same time. So many ways that could’ve gone south—if Joe’d had better aim with that rock, if I’d hit the wrong man with the flare—a nightmare vision pops into my head, Nick clawing at his eyes as wax from the flare runs down his cheeks like tears....

  “I could’ve hit you with that thing.” I’m tearing up now, myself. My whole face feels hot.

  Nick drops a hand on my thigh. The warm weight’s reassuring. “Hey. It’s all right. It’s over. This was his fault, and a little bit mine, and... You didn’t do anything wrong. Not a thing. You were amazing.”

  I don’t feel amazing. I feel stupid and small—I acted out of panic, probably came within a hair of at least disfiguring either Nick or Joe.

  “We’re safe. Everything’s fine. Nothing else matters.”

  It’s too much: fat tears spill over and race each other down my cheeks. I choke back a sob. Don’t want to fall apart in front of Nick—in front of anyone, but especially Nick. But I’m so tired. I can feel it in my bones, an exhaustion so deep I’m tingling with it, like static under my skin. I’m all out of fight. Even closing my eyes doesn’t slow the tears.

  “Joey’s with your parents,” says Nick. “You’ll be with him soon.”

  That only makes me cry harder. Can’t even talk around the lump in my throat.

  “Shit, I... You have no idea how much I want to hold you right now, but....”

  I manage a nod. Holding Nick’s hand while he’s driving seems like a bad idea, but I slide mine beside his, so our pinkies touch.

  “We’ll get you home, get a doctor over to look at you, just make sure—did he give you water? Are you dehydrated? ‘Cause I think I’ve got water somewhere, maybe in the trunk?“

  “He... We had blue Gatorade.” I sniffle and wipe at my eyes. This is embarrassing.

  “Do you want to go home, or straight to your mom’s? I can call ahead, get some food brought over, if you... Or maybe you have something?” He’s kind of babbling. He must be as freaked out as I am, or close enough. That actually helps a little.

  “Home. Don’t want Joey to see me all...however I must look right now.”

  “Okay. Home it is. Home, sweet home. Or maybe—how about my place? I just realized, I left Katie....”

  I swallow hard, blink back the last of my tears. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good, just... Don’t want to freak her out either.”

  “She’ll be in her room. Way she cranks her music, she won’t even hear us come in.”

  Okay. Okay. That sounds good. Not the way I’d have wanted to see Nick’s place for the first time, but knowing Joe’s been in mine, leaving dead rats, doing...things... I’m not sure I ever want to go there again. And the bed has to go. Fumigating the sheets couldn’t begin to clear the contamination.

  Nick calls the cops the minute he gets a signal. When they pass us on the highway, going the other way, I feel like I could melt into my seat. It’s over, really over, or as close as it’s going to get, before that jailhouse door clangs shut on my past.

  I cover a yawn with my hand. I’ve reached that stage of weariness where everything’s all soft and floaty around the edges. Feels like... Feels like sinking into a warm, fuzzy beanbag chair.

  That makes me laugh, or maybe I only imagine myself laughing, because Nick doesn’t react, and the streetlights are all running together, and next thing I know, I’m waking up in Manhattan. Somebody’s honking at us, and I really do laugh at that. Nothing’s changed. I just took a vacation in hell, but back here... It’s like I never left.

  I like that idea—the thought of sliding back into my usual routine, letting the last couple of days fade away like an old bruise. Hearing my parents’ excited voices on Nick’s phone’s even better. Joey’s already in bed, but he’s fine, he’s happy; he thinks I’ve been stuck at work all this time. He’s been having a grand old time with the grandparents. He’s turned their whole living room into a blanket fort.

  I’ll see him tomorrow, and soon... Soon, it’ll be like nothing happened.

  Or at least nothing bad.

  If nothing else, this disaster has clarified my feelings for Nick. I’m falling for him, and hard.

  146

  Nick

  Sunrise over Manhattan’s never looked so good. We’re sitting out in the solarium, under the ferns and ivy, eating a breakfast of deviled eggs—Katie’s idea. At least the whole oatmeal phase is a thing of the past. No matter how comforting everyone says it is, no matter how much cinnamon’s mixed in, to me, oatmeal will never look like anything but hot barf. And it doesn’t taste much better.

  “So? How did you get that bruise?” Katie seems more curious than scared. Still, this is one case where I’ll definitely be stretching the truth.

  “Kind of a...dark forest, low-hanging branch situation.”

  “Is that true?” She’s looking at Lina.

  Lina stirs some sugar into her coffee. “Mm-hm. Your dad came striding out of that forest like a wild man. Head-to-toe pine needles. Just the sight of him was enough to scare that evil ex into submission.” She winks.

  We’ve decided to go with a version of the truth for Katie. She’s old enough to watch the news, old enough to bust us on an outright lie. But she doesn’t have to know the gory details.

  She seems to buy it, at least for now. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says. “Dad was going nuts when you were missing.”

  “I missed him too.” Lina smiles at me over her coffee cup. I feel the tips of my ears going red.

  I clear my throat. “So, uh, Katie... What’ve you got planned for today?”

  “Painting your windows, duh.”

  My... Oh, right. Totally spaced on the window displays. “Sorry. Forgot it was Saturday. You and Cindy need a ride?”

  “No. Her mom’s sending a car after breakfast. We’ll be back in time for dinner.”

  “Wait—you don’t have anyone going with you?”

  Katie opens her mouth. I can feel another duh hovering in the air.

  I head her off at the pass. “Any adult, I mean.”

  “The driver’ll wait.”

  That is so not my idea of adult supervision.

  “Why don’t we go with you?” Lina glances at me, then back to Katie. “We could pick up Joey, make a little party of it. Don’t worry—he’s pretty artistic.”

  Katie looks pensive, and I’m positive she’s about to protest, but she surprises me. “We could do, like, a fingerpainting thing, and a stick-figure Santa, so it kind of looks like kid art. And write ‘Merry Christmas’ with backward Rs.” She grins. “I wanted to show Joey to Cindy, anyway. She doesn’t believe he’s cuter than Sharon’s little brother, and he totally is.”

  Joey’s clingy when we pick him up. Not just with Lina, but with me and Katie, even Cindy. He goes around collecting hugs from everyone. It’s a little heartbreaking. After what happened with his dad, losing his mom would have to be his worst nightmare. Still, he perks up like a champ when the girls start setting up their paints, and soon, all three of them are happily daubing away.

  Lina wants to help out, as we’re there anyway. The two of us end up behind the counter. I show her how our registration and inventory systems work, how we decide who gets what. She seems genuinely impressed, and I can’t help but puff up a little: I designed both systems myself.

  The stream of customers slows to a trickle around two. Mid-afternoon’s always a dead spot. In the window, the kids are putting the finishing touches on their masterpiece. I’ve got to admit it looks pretty good.

  Li
na turns to me in the quiet. “So... I have kind of a favor to ask.”

  “You want me to go with you?” To the cop shop, I mean—she gave a statement last night, but they wanted to go over it again once she’d had a chance to rest.

  “No, I... Mama’s meeting me there; that’ll be fine. It’s just, if it’s not too much bother... I think Joey’s a little scared. He doesn’t know why his daddy’s not around, and I think he thought the same thing was happening all over again. I don’t feel right leaving him with a babysitter so soon.”

  “Oh, sure! Yeah. We’d love to have him. He have any food allergies, or anything he hates?”

  “Just Brussels sprouts. Hates them, I mean. Not an allergy.”

  “Think I can just about swing a sprout-free dinner.” This is an opportunity: I have a feeling Lina doesn’t want to go home, doesn’t feel safe there after what happened. If she has to come back to my place anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard to persuade her to stay. I don’t want to be away from her any more than Joe does. I fish for the right words. “Uh, I was thinking, it’ll probably be pretty late, by the time you come back for Joey. Why don’t you bring his pajamas? We can have a little sleepover.”

  The relief that floods her face tells me I guessed right. “That’d be... That’d be amazing. I’m still pretty tired, and honestly, not knowing how you-know-who was getting in and out of my apartment, I’m still pretty creeped out.” She shudders. “I mean, his bail hearing hasn’t even been set yet, but part of me still thinks... Ugh.”

  “You should stay for a while, then. At least till you can get bars put on the windows, new locks on the doors.” My heart’s pounding—maybe I’m pushing it a tad far. Don’t want her thinking I’m the stalker type.

  “I... Well, I mean, I don’t want to put you out. And the commute would be kind of a bitch, but....” She tilts her head back, grinning. “Oh, God, yes please. I’ve been dreading...just, the whole idea of going back there.... My skin’s been crawling all day. And I—I don’t even have anywhere to sleep. He said he, uh...he—did something. In my bed.” She’s gone scarlet, red as a beet. I think I get the picture.

  “Eugh. Well, I assure you, every sheet at my place is freshly laundered, and, uh, free of any scummy history.” Got to admit, I have done the thing she’s talking about, in my own bed, but not recently. Not since the sheets were changed. I look away so she can’t see me looking guilty and think...something weird.

  Joey comes running up. “We’re putting all our handprints on the window! You guys wanna put yours?”

  Lina and I exchange glances.

  “Lead the way,” I say.

  We add our prints to the end of the line, hers in bright red, mine neon green. Even with Cindy’s prints in the mix, it feels a lot like a family thing. Lina feels warm and alive, pressed against me in the cramped display. I plant an impulsive kiss on her cheek. Katie captures the moment on her phone. Think I’ll have her send me a copy of that: this is a moment I won’t want to forget.

  147

  Elina

  There’s no feeling quite so luxurious as that slow swim to wakefulness, when there’s no alarm clock to bray in your ear, no four-year-old to use you as a trampoline, no honking rising up from the road below. I stretch and sigh—not yet. Not yet. Five minutes, and I’ll abandon my cocoon. But for now—

  Someone’s tickling my foot. I jerk it up under the duvet. Clever fingers follow, clinging to my sole, even when I try to scrape them off with my other foot.

  C’mon—five more minutes! Don’t fuck up my morning glow, I protest. At least, in my head I do. In the real world, it comes out more like “Mmph...off!”

  It’s so nice in here, soft as a pile of kittens and just as cuddly. Even the faint sharpness of Nick’s aftershave on the pillow can’t spoil the effect. But this tickling—this is cruel and unusual punishment. Doesn’t he know there’s a chilly hardwood floor out there, and...and...fine. It’s actually not that bad. But still, can’t a girl—

  Nick whips the covers off. I gasp. His bedroom’s not cold, but anything’d be a shock after the perfect comfort of the duvet.

  “Oh, you suck!”

  He grins down at me, unrepentant. “Y’know, for someone whose alarm wakes me up at five-thirty most mornings, you’re surprisingly lazy.” He tosses my dressing gown over me. As a blanket, it’s a pretty shoddy substitute.

  “Mm... You only used to sleep till six.”

  “That extra half hour, though, that’s when the magic happens. You know how I know?”

  “How do you know?”

  “’Cause I always wake up at the exact moment my dream gets to the best part.” He hops into bed and drapes himself over my back. “Therefore, six o’clock in the morning’s definitively, scientifically, the best time to wake up.”

  I tilt my head. “Wait—if you’re waking up right as your dream gets to the best part, wouldn’t that make the best time to get up like, I don’t know, six-oh-five? So you can actually have the best moment?”

  He shakes his head. His morning stubble scratches the back of my neck. “Nope. You never want to live the best moment. Or dream it. You always gotta keep the best moment of your life somewhere ahead of you. Something to look forward to.”

  I smile. Nick has the best way of looking at life. Or the best excuses for lousing up my cozy nest.

  I never did go home after what we’ve come to refer to as The Incident. Nick swung by and filled a couple of suitcases with Joey’s clothes and mine, and I’ve dropped Joey off a few times for playdates with Emin, but I haven’t crossed that threshold again. And with each passing day, I’m less sure I ever will. This place is cluttered, and too far from work, but it’s got Nick: a huge advantage in my book.

  I lean back into his embrace. He’s sporting quite an impressive erection, and his hands are doing some magical things to my body. But I’ve already slept late. We don’t have time. “Mm... I’d better get up. Feed the kids.”

  “Already fed. And bathed. And dressed.” He drags the edge of one fingernail along my inner thigh, just hard enough to leave a faint red line, and set my nerve endings alight.

  “You’re not even shaved!”

  “Mm, designer stubble’s making a comeback.” He buries his prickly face in the crook of my neck. His rough chin scrapes my skin as he peppers me with tiny nips and kisses. His breath’s warm and a little tickly; his lips soothe my beard-reddened skin. My will to resist is eroding.

  “The car?”

  “Cleaned it out last night.” He’s teasing me through my panties, firm enough to send tingling shocks of pleasure all the way to my toes, light enough to drive me crazy. Can’t concentrate with that going on.

  “The...the, uh...the eggnog for tonight?”

  Nick takes advantage of my open mouth to slip a couple of fingers into it. I lick at them instinctively, and feel his cock rise to full attention against my back. “Eggnog, nutmeg, parking, trees... All taken care of.” I feel his lips stretch into a grin. “Every...little...detail....” He flicks my nipple after every word. “So stop worrying.” Flick. “And relax.” Flick. “And....” He flips me onto my back, so suddenly my head spins. I can’t help but arch into it as he grinds his body against mine. He feels so good naked, all hard planes and lean muscle.

  “You... You win!”

  Nick looks down at me with a twinkle in his eye. “I should make you crawl to me on your knees for your lack of faith.” He yanks my nightie up over my head and twists it tight around my wrists.

  “And what would you have me do when I got to you?”

  “First, I’d make merciless use of that sweet, tender mouth....” He pauses for a kiss, which deepens into another. Soon, my legs are wrapped around him, not an inch of space between us. When he draws back, he sounds as breathless as I feel. “Then I’d turn you to face the mirror, and I’d come up behind you, and take you apart with my lips and my fingers and my cock.”

  “Mm, that sounds—“

  He silences me with a finger to my li
ps. “I’m not finished.” The stern note in his voice, combined with the way he punctuates every sentence with a kiss, a caress, a pinch, has me melting in his arms. “I’d take my time. Hours and hours, if I had to. Make you watch every second of it.” He twists his fingers into my hair, eyes locked with mine. “Every time you closed your eyes, every time you looked away, I’d punish you with a slap.” His free hand claps down on my inner thigh, just where he knows I’m most sensitive. “Or a pinch.” That same hand snakes between my legs and pinches me just above the clit, sending a shock of pleasure through me, so intense it borders on pain. “Or a bite.” His teeth tug at my earlobe, worrying at my earring.

  “Mmm....”

  “I’d keep going till you could see yourself through my eyes—how beautiful you are like this. How hot you are when you give yourself over.” He tugs my panties down hard. “Mm—see? You’re blushing. That’s exactly what I’d train out of you. Any hint of shame, of embarrassment....”

  Got to correct him on that one. “That’s... That’s what you might call a flush of arousal.”

  “Oh yeah?” He leans over me to grab a condom. I take the opportunity to risk a naughty bite to his bicep. His answering growl stokes the fire in my belly.

  “Yeah,” I tell him. It’s true: even when we test the limits together, I rarely feel so much as a flutter of self-consciousness any more. “I might still need that lesson, though. Just to be sure.”

  “First time we’ve both got a free evening. Or morning. Or afternoon,” he promises. “Can’t wait to have you at my mercy...begging...trembling...calling me master.” He rolls the condom on in one practiced stroke. “Ready?”

  “Starved for it.”

  I bite my lip as he thrusts into me. No matter how many times we do this, I always see stars when he buries his cock in me. He’s thick, well-proportioned; those first few seconds ride that line between perfect excess and far too much. I hold my breath till he starts to ride me in earnest, feeling myself slowly adjust to his girth. That blinding sense of fullness gives way to a hot tide of lust. I clutch at thin air, sink my teeth into his shoulder, anything to keep quiet.