Inevitably Yours (Imagine Ink Book 4)

by Verlene Landon

  John paused to collect his thoughts, and Augusta didn’t attempt to fill the silence. “I watched her belly grow every day. I read every book, and I could tell you what size the baby was and what was growing at any given time. I had the room decorated and furnished before the first ultrasound. I was a man obsessed. I was going to be a father. I bought one of those Doppler devices you can order online, and I listened to her heartbeat every day. I was convinced she was a girl.”

  For a moment, John got lost in the good memories. He relished them, because he knew they were about to darken. “When we had the first ultrasound appointment, I was beside myself. Arrived forty-five minutes early. When her heartbeat became a visual thing, I couldn’t imagine a world where I didn’t love that little girl. Then when the doctor said she had a penis, I never laughed so hard in my life. It was a combination of shock and terror and awe that I was to have a son.”

  Augusta did interrupt then, just as he had expected. “Did you have to repaint?”

  “Yep. But I loved every second of it. And as time went on and I watched the outline of his tiny hands and feet push against Deborah’s skin, I realized I couldn’t love him more than I already did. He had yet to draw breath, but he was already my son. A life I created and would be responsible for. A person who held my heart in that tiny hand, and once it was there, it would remain forever.”

  The darkness was damn near visible to John as it crept in and stole the happy memories right from his heart.

  “It was a cloudy Tuesday morning when her water broke. On the drive to the hospital, I was babbling on about ‘my son this’ and ‘my son that.’ I probably should have been more concerned with helping her breathe or something, but I was so focused on little Troy, that’s how I thought of him. When we arrived at the hospital, we argued about how to enter. I wanted to pull up at emergency and shout she was having a baby, and she wanted a more dignified entrance.”

  Pausing yet again, John tilted his head simply to ground himself by looking at the beautiful woman resting her head on his shoulder. “We settled on parking outside of admittance. I went in for a wheelchair while she made all the phone calls alerting her family she was in labor. As I pushed her toward the front entrance, I asked her a question I had been dying to, if his middle name could be Troy. That is the last untainted thought I had about my son, his mother, and the whole damn experience.”

  A familiar wave of anger crashed over him. “She asked why she would do that. Before I formed a pitch, we had entered the lobby and were at the admittance desk. She was signing papers, and they put that plastic bracelet on her wrist. Things were moving in slow motion but also way too fast. When the nurse came around to wheel her to labor and delivery, she asked if I was the father. I opened my mouth to answer, proudly proclaim to the world that I was, when a cruel, ‘No, he’s not,’ cut me to my very soul.”

  Augusta awkwardly leaned around and took John’s cheeks in her hands. She looked like she wanted to speak, but she remained silent. Instead, she kissed him—a closed mouth kiss with tears raining down onto their joined lips. They stayed that way for a while, until John pulled his lips back, knowing he had to finish.

  “She then reached back for the baby bag, which I let go of easily. I don’t know how I didn’t drop it. She spoke an apology, but her face didn’t hold any sorrow whatsoever. When she turned back to the nurse, she asked that I be excluded from the delivery room. The nurse seemed more apologetic than Deborah, but that was it. It was over, except it wasn’t. It would never be over for me.”

  “Of course not, how could it be over for you. You’re his father, are you fighting for custody? I don’t understand, how…oh.” It was written on her face the moment she comprehended that biologically, it wasn’t his son.

  “Exactly, I was not his father, biologically anyway. I proved that with a court-ordered DNA test, but I didn’t need it. The moment I saw him through the security glass, I knew he was not the child of my body, but he was, is, the child of my heart. I was there for every moment of the pregnancy. I was there when his eyes formed and when his hands grew fingers. It was me,” John thumped his chest, “me, who touched his hand through the barrier of skin. Me. I was the first to hear his heartbeat and see him hiccup on the monitor. Me. I was the voice who spoke to him each day and sang to him each night. He was mine. And until the day I leave this Earth, he will be my son. I don’t care who raises him, whose DNA made him, or what anyone says, he will always be my son. Even though he will never know a thing about me.”

  It had been a while since John had cried, even longer since he had done so in front of another person. The next words out of Augusta’s perfectly pouty lips almost crushed him and left him weightless at the same time.

  “I understand now. Your actions make perfect sense. I just wish I would’ve understood earlier. Just because my brain comprehends it now, my heart still bore the pain.” She released his jaw after what felt like an eternity and leaned back against him. “Not that I’m blaming you or want you to feel bad, but we still experienced what we experienced no matter the reasoning. I know things changed after, well after.” She waved her hand toward the bed. “But we were friends before, and I can’t help but be a little hurt that you didn’t trust in that enough to at least let me know there was a reason for the distance you put between us. I’m sorry, I hope that doesn’t hurt you, but I want to be honest.”

  And there it was, the pressure, the guilt, the loss of control. He had to tell her he didn’t think he could see her through the rest of her pregnancy or be present when she gave birth or maybe even after. There was a lot of uncertainty. Maybe he could do it; maybe he couldn’t. Either way, he needed her to understand he didn’t know yet. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

  She tensed beside him. Familiar with the way her mind worked, he had a pretty good idea what was coming. He knew the burning question she had, one he feared she already suspected the answer to, one that would change things for them. No doubt, she could deal with his absence during the pregnancy. If she thought that’s what he needed, she wouldn’t deny it, even if she hated it. What she couldn’t deal with was him kissing her when it wasn’t truly about her, just him getting caught up in that moment, needing to prove to her she belonged to him when in his mind, he didn’t belong to her yet.

  Of course, that changed for him the minute he laid her on the bed. He solidified her ownership of him with each glimpse of her body he revealed. Because for a woman like Augusta, every inch of skin correlated to a piece of her heart and a bit of her soul.

  What would she say when she learned why he came over and why he allowed himself to make love to her. Sure, the outcome was pleasantly unexpected, what with him admitting his feelings for her to himself and entertaining a more permanent possibility, but it was his motive that would devastate her.

  “I accept everything you’ve shared with me tonight and your past’s place in the decisions you have made. I can even accept that sharing doesn’t equal acceptance and coping, and that in my current condition, that is an issue we will have to address. Those things I understand, but I need to ask a question, and I can accept any answer if it is one hundred percent honest. No matter how bad you think it will hurt me, okay?”

  And here it comes. John braced himself.

  “Why did you choose to make love to me…now?” Even though he was expecting it, the punch to his heart was painful and caught him by surprise.

  John was an asshole, but he wasn’t a deceptive one. He would have to tell Augusta that he came over because he thought she could do casual. He had no intention of sleeping with her but had to erase all thoughts of her going out with another.

  Basically, I marked my territory like an animal, and she is not the kind of woman to just accept that. Hell, he wouldn’t be in love with her if she were.

  Before he spoke, he studied her features. He needed to remember this last unspoiled moment, because once he answered this question, there would be a scar between them—a dirty, ugly scar, one he hop
ed would fade and be virtually unnoticeable with time.

  It wasn’t a conscious act, holding her breath. Nor was it her choice to have a hot, jagged knife rip through her chest. Expecting the words, suspecting the truth, didn’t lessen the torture they brought listening to him explain how he came over to start a casual relationship, and that his kiss had nothing to do with her pleasure or even expressing his feelings, other than thumping his chest, that is.

  They had not parted in anger, well, not toward each other anyway; but they had not parted with spoken promises either.

  He had given her exactly what she had asked for, honesty, even at the cost of her suffering. It had been obvious that she was not alone in that. As promised, she accepted his answer, but that didn’t make it easy to swallow.

  Kissing him goodbye had been bittersweet. Nothing was set in stone, as far as their relationship went, but they were both on the same page. That was something, at least, something that balanced all the “I don’t knows.” Their path was not going to be easy, but at least they both seemed to be willing to entertain the possibility.

  Knowing where he was headed and what he would face only made things worse. Tomorrow was the anniversary of Troy’s death. John would fly back to where he was buried and spend the night at his grave, flogging himself with guilt. Stacy quit going with him a few years back. She said she couldn’t watch him carry that weight. “I watch him shoulder that shit every single fucking day, but I can’t stomach it on that particular one anymore. It’s like it weighs ten times as much.” Stacy had told Gus that last year when John took off.

  There was a moment where Gus thought the sun was breaking through the emotional storm clouds they had created—a split second where she believed John looked at her with love, and even fancied the words were coming, but they didn’t. John confessed that he cared deeply for her, and he wished to explore where things were headed. He was willing to see if he could stand by her, as more than her friend, for the remainder of the pregnancy. She appreciated the gesture, but she would never allow it. Opening that wound had not been easy for him, and she refused to rub salt in it.

  As devastated as she was, the logical part of Gus believed that once this pregnancy was over and little Butterbean was in the loving arms of Marco and Andy, then John would be better equipped to cope. However, right now, it wasn’t the logical part that was in charge, it was all emotions, all the way.

  The sound of her front door brought her attention outward. January was sound asleep. She had gotten in late last night then sat up with Gus until all hours of the morning, so her little sister was wiped out. And there was only one other person who would be so bold as to come through the front door unannounced.

  “I’m in here, hooker,” Gus yelled in the direction of the front. Sure enough, just as she suspected, Stacy came charging in. She threw her designer bag to the floor and rushed to Gus’ side. Gus didn’t even have a chance to sit up, not that she had the energy to anyway.

  “What happened, Pixie Pants? John called me last night and told me everything went to shit and that you would need me first thing, but to let you sleep. So, spill?”

  That was just like John, even with all his own stuff going on, he always thought of the people he cared for first. Many a night he had called on Gus to check on Stacy, or bring her pizza, or whatever. If he felt Stacy needed someone to talk to and wouldn’t ask, he’d send Gus for one reason or another.

  Now, he did it for me. Despite what he believed was the case, John was a good guy. He couldn’t seem to see it in himself, but he was. No matter that he slept with her for all the wrong reasons, it was obvious, looking into the face of his sister, that he cared.

  “First off, my problems aside, how are you doing? I know that—”

  “I adore the fuck out of you, Pixie, and I appreciate how you always try to help me with all this emotional crap, but I’m good. Really. I have Dax and Macy, and this whole big family who love all this touchy-feely crap.” There was sadness in her voice, but it wasn’t overwhelming as expected.

  “Really?”

  “Really. I’m in an okay place with it. It’s challenging, but I worry more for John than myself. Who would have thought, I would be more well-adjusted than him?” Stacy paused reflectively, then snapped back to her typical self. “Okay, so spill it.”

  “Well, where do I start? Went out with Jesse. Awkward. When he tried to kiss me goodnight, John opened the door. Awkwarder. Then, we made love, and he said he only did it out of jealousy. Awkwardest.”

  “Wow, you must be tired because half of those weren’t even words.”

  “That’s what you got from that? How are we even friends?”

  Gus’ pain was still real, raw, but a little banter with her BFF was called for.

  “Well, yeah. I mean, what are we, twelve? Anyway, skip the made-up words and just get to the point. Why does my brother sound like someone just told him Santa isn’t real and my bestie looks like she was rode hard and put away wet…and not in the good way, either.” Stacy’s voice shifted from playful to serious in less than a millisecond. “Seriously, you made love to the man you love, why are you both so miserable?”

  “Because we are. John finally opened up about his issue with this pregnancy, and I finally opened my legs, but sex doesn’t cure everything.”

  “Then you aren’t doing it right, Pixie. Sex does cure everything when two people love each other.”

  “That’s just it, John made no promises, spoke no words of love. But even so, I was fine with that. I was even okay with the fact that our potential relationship may be on hold while he deals with his crap and I give birth. What I am having an issue with is he admitted to sleeping with me just because he couldn’t stand me dating.”

  Stacy was silent, like she was listening to a testimony and preparing her cross-examination. When she spoke, Gus realized how accurate that was.

  “That doesn’t sound like John. Making love to you just to keep you from dating, I mean. Were those his exact words? If not, could what he said have another meaning besides the obvious. Many times, it is those meanings that are more important than the definition of the words.”

  Gus should have expected this; she is his sister after all. She got out of bed and stood there looking at her friend, trying to discern if she could be objective. “Of course, you’d take his side,” she said, defeated.

  When Stacy rose and stood in front of her, she could see her friend had nothing but love for her, and she wasn’t really taking sides.

  “That’s unfair, and you know it. I just want to help you both. I think you two are fucking meant to be, and if I can help make that happen, then I will. Besides, I can’t stand seeing you hurt like this.”

  Throwing herself into her friend’s arms felt good, comforting. “He said he kissed me to erase the punk’s attempt to. He said he carried me to bed because he didn’t see why we couldn’t engage in mutual pleasure. That if I had needs, why couldn’t I turn to him to fill them. That he couldn’t bear the thought of someone else…um…being with me in that way.” As liberated as Gus felt and as blatant as Stacy was, she still couldn’t seem to quote John.

  Stacy pulled away. “I need details if I…wait, no, ew. Not that kind of detail, but as much as you can manage without making me throw up in my mouth.”

  Once they were seated back on the bed, Gus shared as much detail as she could without, as Stacy said, traumatizing her with naked information about her brother.

  “It sounds to me like he made the first move out of jealousy and thumping his chest, saying I am man, hear me roar, but, he made love to you because he cares about you.” Yeah, Gus had to agree. Once she had her emotions under control, that’s exactly what it sounded like. But she didn’t know if she could tell her bruised heart and ego that.

  A knock at the door reminded her of a small detail she had forgotten. “Shit, that’s the dynamic duo, we have an appointment today.” Gus yelled, “Come in!” and proceeded to get dressed and brush her teeth in record tim
e.

  “Listen to the potty mouth on you,” Stacy quipped.

  When Andy appeared in her bedroom doorway, Stacy collected her purse from the floor. “I’m going to go see how John is doing on this shitshow of a morning,” she told Gus. Turning her attention to Andy, Gus observed a lot of unspoken…something between them. “Take care of my girl there and make sure to stop for ice cream. Pregnant bitches love ice cream.” Andy inclined his head and squeezed her bicep. Gus watched him mouth the words “thank you” to her friend, but it was Stacy who gave him a look of gratitude.

  “Oh great, so he knows, too? Does everyone know?”

  Stacy turned back and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Yes, he knows, and no, everyone doesn’t. It was a need to know thing, and Andy fucking needs to know. Besides, he’s got your back, little mama, and not just because of that belly of yours.”

  Then she was gone and Gus was on her way to her final pre-natal appointment before her due date with a very concerned Andy and Marco.

  Gus had thought her talk with Stacy and logical analysis of her and John’s…whatever it was, had put everything in to perspective. Not that she had a whole lot of time to reflect on much of it. Marco and Andy were fixers, and being stuck in the car with two fixers for fifty minutes butted up against torture. I’m pretty sure an iron maiden would’ve been more comfortable.

  Not that they weren’t helpful. They usually brought a unique wisdom to the table, but she felt trapped. Gus processed better in open spaces, a place where she could pace and think. Somehow, the motion of her legs helped her brain work or petting her cats; that always helped, too.

  Gus was thrilled when they arrived and she could get out of the car and stretch her legs. Not to mention the doctor’s office was no place for the kind of conversation they were having. Thank God.