by Hannah Gray
“You can say that. It sucks. Carrying a watermelon around in my stomach sucks enough, let alone hobbling with crutches.”
“Well, good thing you’re a badass bitch. Look, Jodi and I want to talk to you about something.” She yells to Jodi to come in.
My stomach instantly drops. I hope they don’t fire me. In this city, they are all I have.
“We love ya, kid. You’re a fucking amazeballs designer. From now until after the baby though, we want you to work from home. You have your office here with all of your stuff, and we want to have it moved to your apartment so that you don’t have to make this dreadful hike in every day. It’s getting colder. We’re lucky the snow hasn’t started to fall yet.”
My lip quivers. These damn hormones are insane. “Are you firing me though?”
“God, no!” Jill yells.
Jodi’s next. “We just think it would be for your own safety. If you feel up to it, you can stop here and check in whenever. But we thought this would be most comfortable for you. But if you hate the idea, then we’ll shitcan it.”
I think about it for a minute. I need to not let my pride and independent-woman attitude get in the way of what’s best for myself and the baby.
I smile. “Actually, I think your idea is perfect. Thank you for working so hard to accommodate me. I love my job, and I want to continue working as long as I can, so doing that at home sounds great.”
“Awesome! We will have Joe take everything over and get it all set up this afternoon,” Jill says while glancing at something behind me.
I turn my head to see a deliveryman carrying two-dozen red roses. Shaking my head, I already know who they are from without even looking at a card.
He glances between the three of us. “I have a delivery for Anna Eubanks.”
I don’t miss Jodi’s and Jill’s eyes burning into me.
“Right here,” I squeak. Holding my arms out, I take the absolutely beautiful arrangement of delicate flowers.
After handing them off to me, he grins. “Those sure are pretty. Someone special must have sent them, huh?”
I don’t say anything, just give him a weak nod. Luckily, he turns and walks away.
I rub my thumb over my small bunch of roses tattooed on my wrist. Then, finally, I dare to pick up the card and read what it says.
Please, Red. Talk to me. I’m sorry.
—M
P.S. I can call you Red on a card because you can’t punch me in the nuts.
I fight the smile wanting to break out on my face. But in the end, the smile must win because Jodi puts a hand on her hip.
“Well, who’s the guy making you smile like that? Not someone with a weird pregnant-girl fetish, right? There are fucking psychos out there like that.” She scrunches her nose up.
I laugh and shake my head. “No. It’s … it’s the baby’s dad.”
I wait for Jodi’s reaction. She and Jill tell each other everything. I’m sure, after I admitted to Jill on the ride home from the hospital that Mason was the baby’s father, she told Jodi.
“Mason … King,” she slowly says, as if it’s a shock.
I nod. “Yes. Anyway, he’s been trying to show up a lot. I’ve been ignoring him and basically telling him to pound sand.”
They are both quiet for a minute before Jill speaks, “I understand that you’re upset, and I can certainly see why. Really, I can.” I know what’s coming next before she even says it. “But because there is a baby in the picture, it might be worth it to hear him out.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “You sound like Cameran.”
Her face breaks out in a grin. “I knew I liked that girl.”
I’m mad at myself for softening up. I know I don’t want anything romantic with him. I mean, he put my heart through a meat grinder before. But maybe I do owe it to this baby to hear him out.
Being a grown-up is tough.
thirty-nine
Mason
I head toward to Anna’s apartment. This time, armed with New York’s best pizza. I wasn’t sure what she was craving, so I got four kinds.
I fully expect that she’ll turn me away. But a man has to try. She deserves all the effort I can give. Her number’s been unblocked from my phone since the day I saw her at the hospital. Yet she hasn’t answered a single call or text. I guess I now know how she must have felt last spring.
I buzz her apartment number, and there’s no answer. I buzz again, this time talking into the microphone. “I know you’re in there. I have pizza.”
It’s quiet for a moment before her voice comes over the speaker. “What kind of pizza?”
“Rosalie’s.” I barely get the name out before I hear the buzzer go off and the door unlocks.
I smile. She must like this pizza place. Maybe Yelp reviews were right after all.
I make my way up the stairs and to her door. I frown at how many stairs she has to get up every day. All while being pregnant and having a messed up ankle. I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.
I knock a few times, and the door flies open. She’s a sight to behold for sure. Her hair, that same deep, dark red color. Fiery, just like her personality. She has it in a messy bun on the top of her head. She’s hobbling on crutches, which actually hurts me to see. She’s in black sweatpants and a white shirt that says, Pregnant AF. I chuckle silently. She looks as beautiful as she ever has.
“You said you had pizza,” she deadpans.
Shit, she’s cutting right to the point. I nod and hold it out to show her.
“Let me set it down for you somewhere and help get your plate.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve been doing this alone for a while now, Romeo. I think I got it.”
“All right, fine.” Her stubbornness has always infuriated me. Always too proud to accept anybody’s help. “At least let me set it down. Not sure how you’re going to hobble on your crutches and carry four pizza boxes.”
“Fine,” she answers reluctantly and swings the door open wider, letting me in.
I walk into her apartment, taking it all in. It fits Anna perfectly. With a modern and edgy look in grays and blacks and dark navy blues, it suits her.
When I set the pizzas down, she hobbles over with a few plates. I notice she has two plates, and her cheeks redden as she shrugs.
“I feel bad, taking your pizza and not letting you eat any. Have a seat. Don’t make it a thing.” She nods her chin at the barstool.
We eat in silence. Well, mostly silence. With an occasional moan slipping out of her mouth as she takes a bite of her pizza. She started with pepperoni, then went to the bacon hamburger, followed by the veggie, and she is now onto the cheese. I hide my amusement at her growing appetite.
I ask her the question that’s been bothering me since getting here, “Does this place not have an elevator?”
“Yes, it does, but I just take the stairs because I enjoy carrying my fat, pregnant body up them,” she answers sarcastically. Also clearly unimpressed.
I frown. I don’t like that there isn’t an elevator. I don’t like it one fucking bit. “How do you get yourself with your boot and crutches up and down then?”
“Please, Mason. Stop. You are irritating the shit out of me.”
I take her advice and leave her alone. For now. After she finishes two pieces of cheese pizza, she rubs her stomach and leans back. I can’t get over her being pregnant. I still haven’t wrapped my head around the fact that I might be a dad. I need to ask her point-blank if it’s mine, but I’m a little scared she might murder me. So far, we’re doing good tonight, and I don’t want to blow it.
“Which was your favorite?” I ask for future reference.
She seemed to enjoy the pizza. I hope she enjoyed the whoopie pies and the other shit I had sent to her.
Not making eye contact, she spins her glass around with her fingers a few times. “Definitely the cheese pizza.”
Pushing herself up from her chair and grabbing our dirty plates, she walks—okay, waddles—to the sink and starts rins
ing them off.
I jump out of my seat and rush over to her. “Let me do that. You sit back down.”
Ignoring me, she continues on with what she’s doing. Grabbing the plates from her before she can object, I put them in the dishwasher and then rinse the sink out.
She slams her hand down on the countertop. “Damn it, Mason. I can do that myself. In case you were wondering; I’ve been doing it for months now.” She holds so much anger in her voice.
I know getting back in her good graces isn’t going to be easy. I know she’ll fight me every step of the way too.
I feel like a dick, hearing her words. “I know, and I’m sorry,” I answer with a grimace. The one person I never wanted to hurt, I did. Badly.
As she leans one hip against the sideboard and places her hand on the other, her eyes widen, and that small vein in her forehead pops out slowly. Shit, I’m in for it now.
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry?! For what, Mason? Enlighten me. Are you sorry for using me for sex and then dropping me like a pair of old fucking shoes? Or are you sorry for ignoring text after text and email after email about this?” She motions to her stomach.
I need to hear her say the words to me. I already know it’s my baby. But I need her to say it, to make it real.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I fucked up so badly and did her so wrong. Gathering myself up, I take a few steps forward and put my hands on either side of her, cornering her against the sideboard.
“Anna, listen to me.”
She tries to push me away, and I know I should let her, but instead, I take a hand and tilt her chin up at me. Her eyes avert to anywhere but mine. Her nostrils flare, and her chest heaves with clear anger.
“Anna, I swear I didn’t know. I had no fucking idea. I thought … fuck! I thought I was doing the right thing,” I confess.
Tears fill her eyes before spilling down her cheeks. “How could it be the right thing to abandon your own baby? I get that you don’t want me. But your baby? Mason, I haven’t even met her yet, and I love her so much already. She’s a part of me. She’s a part of you. How can you be so … so … heartless?” Her lip quivers.
It’s a rare thing to see Anna Eubanks this raw and this vulnerable. And I’m the asshole who caused the woman made of concrete to break.
Her words make my heart shatter. A girl. I’m going to have a daughter, one that I don’t even deserve.
“I didn’t do it on purpose, Anna. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Maverick showed up the day we got back from the Hamptons.”
Confused, she wipes her eyes with her sleeve and questions, “So? Why would that change anything? He and I have been done for so long now.”
I nod. “I know that. But he was spewing some bullshit about your family. He said that they were going to cut you off if you continued to see me, and I didn’t want that.”
“So what? You had to have seen the messages about the baby. You couldn’t have at least answered those?”
I shake my head. “No, I couldn’t”—I cringe—“because I’d blocked your number and your email. I’d blocked you on everything I could. I knew if I saw you reach out, if I knew you wanted to continue whatever the hell we had, I’d be weak, and I’d give in. And I’d be fucking damned if I ruined your relationship with your family. I swear I never knew about this.” I place my hand on her stomach, and she flinches. “If I did, I would have come to you a long time ago. I promise you that.”
A small, bitter laugh bubbles out of her. “Well, news flash: my parents don’t even know about us. They cut me off for not moving home and letting them control my life. They loved Maverick; they wanted me to be with him. If they knew you had money, they’d want me to be with you too. You don’t get it; it’s all about money and social status to them.”
Curiosity pushes me to ask, “Do they know about the baby?”
She shakes her head and wipes her eyes. “No,” she practically whispers. “I didn’t want them ruining this for me. They’d throw me over their shoulder and move me home. Hiding me away in their mansion so that I didn’t embarrass them.” She looks off into nothing, appearing lost. “Or worse, they’d reject me. And I can’t take any more rejection.” She says the last part so quietly that it’s almost a whisper. Her tortured voice rips my heart out.
“I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have believed Maverick. But I was afraid if I told you, you’d get upset with your parents and choose me over them. I didn’t want to be the reason why you and your family had a falling-out. I mean it, Anna. I only ever wanted what was best for you.” I grimace at my words. “Or what I thought was best. I really fucked up, didn’t I?”
She looks down at the floor and nods, tears rolling down her cheeks. She’s a mess, but she’s the most beautiful mess I have ever laid eyes on. I wish I could take all of it. The pain, the feeling of rejection, every ounce of it.
Taking each cheek with a hand, I tilt her head, so she has no choice but to look at me. “You said a girl? A baby girl?”
Slowly and subtly, she nods.
“I am so, so, so fucking sorry I haven’t been here. But that’s going to change. I promise. I will make it up to you and our little princess.”
I move my hands to her stomach. She shuts her eyes, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable. But she hasn’t pushed me away, not yet anyway. I almost can’t believe that she hasn’t.
When I glance up at her, my heart races. “Was that a … was that her …”
I don’t get the words out of my mouth before she smiles and nods.
“Yes. That’s her kicking. She’s gotten to be quite active these past few weeks.”
I keep my hands on her stomach, and the tiny movements continue.
I’m here now, angel baby. I promise I won’t fuck this up again. And I’ll take care of your mama too. Daddy’s here.
forty
Anna
Last night, Mason stayed a while longer after we ate dinner. Which was from my favorite pizza place ever. I had only ever had the cheese pizza there. And after trying the others he brought, I stand by my usual choice; cheese pizza is the way to go.
I can’t believe Maverick would make up such an awful lie just to keep Mason and me apart. But still, I can’t help but wonder, If I wasn’t pregnant when he showed up, would he care about me at all? I’m not naive. I know he’s sticking around for our daughter, which is great; I want my baby to have a dad. But a huge part of me knows that I fell in love with Mason King while we were at the Hamptons, and even though he shattered my heart into a billion pieces, I know deep down that my feelings didn’t just go away. Him being around will surely resurface all those feelings once again.
I also can’t help but remember how easy it was for him to walk away. Blocking me out like I meant nothing and never looking back. I know if the roles were reversed, I would have sought him out for a conversation before cutting all ties. The way he cut me out was so … cold. Like those forty-eight hours leading up to it hadn’t even happened. Getting ghosted like that? That shit’s brutal on a bitch’s ego.
Then, I recall the look in his eyes when he felt her kicking for the first time. I could tell he was touched by it. I still feel that way every single time I feel her moving, just knowing I created her. And as mad as I am at him, without him, I wouldn’t feel those little jabs and hiccups every day. And that would be a shame because I’ve learned that those are blessings. She is a blessing.
Glancing at the clock, I look at the time, seeing that it’s after-school hours. I pull my phone out and hit Cameran’s contact to FaceTime.
Setting it up on my desk, I’m leaning forward in the chair when she answers.
Her face lights up. “Hey, little Mama! How are you doing?”
“Oh, just as happy as a pig playing in shit,” I deadpan. Then, I crack a smile. “Kidding. I’m doing all right.”
She frowns. “Just all right? Why? What’s going on?” she asks. Worry covering her angelic face.
I
shrug. “Nothing much. Stuck in my apartment, working, because Jill and Jodi thought it would be best this way until I have the baby.” I pause for a second before continuing, “My ankle isn’t quite as sore, so that’s good. Oh, and Mason brought pizza over last night.” I sneak that last detail in there, hoping it sounds nonchalant. Which obviously, judging by her eyes bulging out of her head and her spitting her soda everywhere, is a fail. A big, epic fail.
“What?! As in you guys ate the pizza together? Or like he dropped the pizza off and you ate it all by yourself, like you did the whoopie pies? Or he brought pizza, you two talked, and then later on, you ate the pizza alone?”
“Why so many questions regarding the damn pizza? It doesn’t—wait a second. Did you really just call me out for eating the whoopie pies? I’m pregnant, you bitch!”
She laughs. “I know that. You deserve all the whoopie pies your heart desires. But stay focused. Back to the pizza—because trust me, it totally matters if you ate it together or if he just dropped it off. It matters a lot. So, spill the beans.”
I huff out a breath, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. “He brought it over, and we ate together. Then, he left. No big deal.”
“It totally is though …” she says, thoughtful.
“Why?” I’m not following why this pizza is so damn important.
She grins and points at me. “You let him stay. You ate dinner together. That could only mean one thing, sista.”
Twisting open a bottle of gray nail polish, I start painting my nails. “What’s that?”
“That you are starting to forgive him. Last I talked to you, you weren’t even letting him into your apartment when he showed up.”
“No, I’m not. I just wanted to hear him out; that’s all.” I take a second to think. “Hey, wait a minute. Why are you smiling about it if you think that?”
She shrugs. “Because I think that, deep down, Mason is a good guy. And he is that sweet angel’s daddy. So, in a way, I am rooting for him.” She frowns. “Well, not him. For you and him. For you both. I’m rooting for you both.” She stumbles over her words, no doubt nervous she’s upset me. She hasn’t though.
