by B. N. Toler
“Shit!” I pant as I whip the blankets back and jump out of bed. Someone is breaking in to my house. Running to my kitchen, I grab the large butcher’s knife from the block and fist the handle tightly as I hide behind the counter. When the door opens, I peek over the top and my stomach drops. I’d rather it have been a burglar. Parker is standing in my living room, looking around and Edie’s head is poked in, my spare key she keeps for emergencies in her hand.
“What the fuck, Parker?” I shriek as I stand. He whips around, his eyes wild, startled by me.
“He made me do it!” Edie defends herself when I cut my eyes to her.
“I’ll take it from here, Edie,” Parker growls before his arm flies out and slams the door shut as he strides toward me.
“Call me!” Edie shouts from outside.
I’m still holding the knife when Parker reaches me and grabs my wrist, pulling the knife from my hand and tossing it in the sink. Then he tugs me behind him into the living room.
“Sit,” he orders, pointing to my sofa chair. His eyes are narrowed, his mouth in a hard and flat line. He’s pissed. I guess he read my letter.
“Shouldn’t you be on your way back to New York right now?” I ask.
“Sit the fuck down, Nikki,” he demands.
“No!” I yell. “You can’t just come in my home and start ordering me around.”
“Nikki . . .” he manages through clenched teeth. “Please sit down.”
With a huff, I plop down. Parker moves to the coffee table and sits on the end so that he’s facing me. I want to tell him to get his ass off my coffee table, but I figure now’s not the time.
“I read your letter,” he begins, his gaze fixed on me.
Swallowing hard, I ask, “And?” I have no idea what to say. I wasn’t lying when I said I expected nothing from him.
He swallows. “Is everything . . . healthy? Are you okay?”
The tension in my shoulders releases a little with his thoughtful question. “Yes. We’re both healthy.”
He nods once and plants his elbows on his knees, dropping his head as if deep in thought. Knotting my fingers together in my lap, I fight the urge to fill the silence. When he’s ready, he’ll talk.
After a few moments, he raises his head and takes a deep breath before speaking. “Why’d you run out on me again this morning?”
Shaking my head, I answer, “I was afraid, Parker. And I felt bad that I . . . that we . . . did what we did last night and I hadn’t told you about the . . .” My eyes flick to his as I pause.
“The baby,” he finishes for me.
“Yeah,” I say, before swallowing nervously again. “I’m sorry I told you by letter.”
“So how do we do this?” he asks.
“Do what?”
“This.” He motions a hand between us.
“What? You and me?”
“Yeah, you and me,” he snorts. And my eyes widen.
“I don’t think . . . I mean . . . we can’t. There’s no you and me.”
He stands and runs a hand through his hair before staring down at me with a look that screams, Bullshit. “There is a you and me.”
“We hooked up twice, Parker. That hardly constitutes a you and me.”
“And the baby . . . that counts for nothing?”
I feel my blood begin to stir. “Of course it counts for something. But not a relationship between us.”
“Yeah, right.” He chuckles with a little disdain. “You fucked me last night and two months ago, obviously there’s something that draws you to me. And now, you’re carrying my child and that’s not enough to say we should give this a try?”
My throat begins to close up as nausea sweeps over me. I want to answer him, but I’m too busy trying to swallow back the urge to vomit. I lose. I fly out of my chair and hall ass to my bedroom and fling myself over the toilet in the master bath. This fucking morning sickness is a bitch. I hurl until my ribs ache and even after there’s nothing left, my body still tries to push out more.
“I see you had the crab bisque last night,” he says, in a lame attempt to joke. I whip my arm out and smack his leg.
“Go away,” I beg between heaves.
“Not a chance, babe.”
I can’t look at Parker as he moves around the bathroom, opening cabinets and pulling out things. After a minute or so, he’s holding a cool cloth to the back of my neck with one hand and rubbing my back with the other. Every morning for the last few weeks I’ve sat on this bathroom floor, purging, by myself. And I have to admit, it’s nice to have someone here to help me . . . or at least try to take care of me.
“You done?” Parker asks softly.
Sitting up, I take the washcloth and wipe at my mouth. “Yeah. I think so.”
“You want to clean up while I get you some water?”
“Yeah, but make it a ginger ale, please. There are a few cans in the fridge.”
“Coming right up.” He nods and exits the bathroom.
Standing up, I brush my teeth and head out to meet him in the kitchen.
My mind is running a thousand miles a minute. I’m still in shock, I think. I’m a man, I’m going to take care of my kid and if Nikki will let me, I’ll take care of her, too. But yes, deep inside, my inner self is running around like a mad person screaming, What the fuck? A kid? I open a few cabinets until I find the glasses and pull one out. Turning to the fridge, I reach out for the handle, but my attention is caught by a long picture, with several images on it, on the freezer door. Images from an ultrasound.
Taking it, I lean against the counter and scan the black and gray images, my heart thundering in my chest. There it is. My child. It exists. The fear I’m feeling takes a backseat as my heart seems to swell, brimming with sentiment in my chest.
“I’m only ten weeks. We can find out at twenty weeks what it is. Sixteen, if we’re lucky.” She’s standing at the counter, leaning against it, chewing her bottom lip as she watches me stare at the pictures of our baby.
“Do you want to find out?” I ask, my voice husky with emotion.
She shrugs. “Kind of.”
I allow myself to be lost in my thoughts for a beat longer before I realize she needs her drink. “Hey, sit down. I’ll get that drink.” As I busy myself with pouring her beverage, she slides onto a barstool by the counter. When I hand her the glass, she takes a long, slow sip and smacks her lips afterward.
“This stuff is saving my life these days.”
“Has the morning sickness been bad?”
“Yeah, but only first thing after I wake up. It fades pretty quickly,” she says, before taking another sip. My eyes fall over her body. Her robe is open a little up top and the curves of her breasts are on display.
“You perv,” she laughs, jerking my attention to her face. “You just found out you’re going to be a father and you’re getting horny.”
I chuckle. “I can’t help it. You have amazing tits, Nikki.” Rounding the counter, I twist her in her seat so that I’m standing between her legs. She looks up at me, her blue eyes full of uncertainty. “Tell me right now that you don’t want me,” I rasp. “Tell me that our times together haven’t been amazing and that they’ve meant nothing. No matter what you say, I’ll be here for the baby. I’m not a douche bag. I’ll take care of what’s mine. But I think we owe ourselves a chance to see if this can work between us.”
“Parker, I—”
“Nikki,” I stop her. “I’ve thought about you every fucking day for months. I’ve called, texted, Facebooked. I’m happy for our best friends, I wanted to be here to celebrate with them, but the one thing I looked forward to the most was seeing you. I want you. I know you’re scared . . . I know you have things in your past that make you scared to trust men, but let me prove to you I’m not like most men.”
Her breath comes out in a long whoosh as her eyes glisten with tears. “I’m really scared,” she cries softly.
“I am too,” I tell her as I take her face in my hands and brush away
a tear with my thumb. And it’s the truth.
“How . . . how would we even try Parker? You live so far away.”
Sighing, I scratch at my day-old beard. “I don’t have all the answers, Nikki. But we will figure this out. I promise. Just . . . give us a chance, okay? Don’t run from me anymore.”
“This is crazy.” She wipes at her face. “We barely know each other.”
“Then let’s get to know each other. What are your plans today?” Her head whips up and her eyes go wide. “What?”
“Shit!” she shrieks as she slides off the stool and runs to her bedroom.
“Damn,” I exclaim. She must be getting sick again. I run after her into her bedroom, but she’s not in the bathroom like I thought she’d be. The doors to her walk-in closet are opened and I can see her inside yanking a dress off a hanger.
“You need to be somewhere?”
Tossing the dress on the bed, she rushes back inside the closet and comes out with a pair of sexy-as-fuck heels. “I’m having lunch with my father. I’m going to tell him.”
Her eyes won’t meet mine and she looks so pale I fear she might faint. I grab her and turn her, forcing her to sit on the bed. “You need to calm down,” I tell her.
“Are you telling me what to do?” she snaps.
My brows furrow with her mood swing. “Yes,” I answer simply.
She takes a deep breath and moves her gaze to the ceiling. “He’s going to be pissed.”
“And you’re scared?”
“Yes,” she admits as her shoulders slump. “I rarely see him and I hate that I have to bring him news he won’t want to hear. He has this ability to make me feel like a stupid child and telling him I’m pregnant and unwed is going to fuel his fire.”
“Then I’m going with you,” I tell her and turn to leave the bedroom.
“You’ll what?” she shrieks as she stands.
“This is our baby . . . I’m the father. I should be there.”
“No, Parker . . . you don’t understand . . .”
“I understand perfectly. I’ll get changed.”
“In to what?”
“My bags are by the door.” Clearly she didn’t notice them when I came in. Once I entered her door I had no intention of leaving.
There are few times in my life where I can say I was honestly scared shitless, but telling my father I’m pregnant will come second to actually finding out that I was pregnant.
Parker drove my Audi into town while I try not to hyperventilate in the passenger seat. His free hand rests on my thigh and squeezed it every so often; I supposed it is his way of offering me reassurance. Looking at him, he doesn’t seem nervous at all.
Once we reach the restaurant, we’re quickly seated and Parker asks the server to bring me a ginger ale and some saltines. It’s something so little, but so thoughtful I just want to kiss him for it. I need time to digest our earlier conversation. He wants to try a relationship between us and I’m not sure how I feel about that. I don’t want a man to be with me just because I’m carrying his child. But all of these thoughts must take a back burner until I get through this lunch with my father.
My stomach is a wreck; not sure if it’s morning sickness or anxiety, but either way, the saltines Parker ordered for me are helping some.
After I nibble on two crackers, Parker takes my hand in his firm one, his gaze meeting mine. “I’m here for you, Nikki. No matter what your father says, no matter how this goes, I’m your anchor. I’ll hold you steady.”
I nod several times and squeeze his hand. His words mean more to me than he will ever know. I try to bask in the comfort Parker is offering, but the air suddenly changes and I tense. I can sense my father as he enters the restaurant. Preston Reese owns a plastics conglomerate. He possesses multiple companies that specialize in plastic production from Tupperware to military pieces used for storage and weaponry. My father’s net worth would cause some people to buckle at the knees. Even I don’t know the full extent of his worth, but I do know he sees money as power.
As he nears our table, he slows, his eyes scanning over Parker until they fall to where Parker’s and my hand are joined and resting on the table. I quickly stand and Parker follows suit. Rounding the table, I plaster on my best smile and say, “Father. It’s good to see you.” I kiss him on the cheek, our usual cold and familiar greeting, and step back allowing Parker to enter our space.
“This is Parker Hayes. He’s my . . .” Shit. What is he? Fuck buddy wouldn’t work. Baby daddy might not be the best to open with either.
“Boyfriend,” Parker answers for me and I nearly choke on my own spit. Is that what we are now? Our earlier conversation has already labeled us as boyfriend and girlfriend in his mind? I don’t have time to get lost in my panic attack because the always suave Parker Hayes reaches for my father’s hand to shake it.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Reese. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
My father cuts his eyes to me with a look that says, Who is this putz? But he reaches his hand out and takes Parker’s. “I wish I could say the same about you, son.” My father, the class A dick, as usual.
Parker releases his hand and quickly wraps a hand around my waist and yanks me to him. “Well, it’s good we finally get to meet.”
We all take our seats; Parker pulls my chair out for me before taking his own. My father orders a Scotch and Parker orders the same. I would literally give my left ovary at this moment if I could drink. A strong whiskey might really ease my nerves.
“So,” my father begins. “Is this why you asked to meet? So I could meet your . . .” he blinks several times as if the thought humors him, “boyfriend?”
I already hate her father. He’s an arrogant dick. And I really fucking hate how the moment he sauntered into the restaurant, she froze up. I’ve had a thing for Nikki since the day I met her. Once I had her, I knew I wanted her. And now that she’s carrying my child, no one will fuck with her. Not even her own father.
“That was part of it,” Nikki says, before shakily sipping her ginger ale.
“Well, let’s get on with it,” her father says, motioning his hand haphazardly.
Nikki clears her throat and takes a deep breath. Under the table, I find her thigh and squeeze it, letting her know it will be okay, that I’m here for her.
After a beat she raises her chin almost defiantly and pulls her shoulders back. That’s my girl. “I’m pregnant.” There’s certainly no sugarcoating the truth and she didn’t even try. I kind of love her for that. She may be scared shitless, but she won’t cower because of it.
Her father leans back in his chair, his eyes moving between us. “And I assume this young man is the father?” And he snickers.
My anger peaks. “This young man is right in front of you,” I grumble, “and my name is Parker. And to answer your question, yes, I am the father.”
“I know—”
“Know what, Nikki?” her father interrupts. “What do you know?” he asks condescendingly. “Clearly neither of you knows how to use birth control.” His words are like a metaphorical slap, causing Nikki to flinch. His voice has heightened and patrons from other tables surrounding us glance in our direction. Nikki’s sitting stiff as a board, her hands knotted together in her lap. I need to try and calm down so I can get her father to do the same. She doesn’t need this stress.
“Mr. Reese—”
“Cut the bullshit, son,” he interrupts me this time. “Did you think impregnating my daughter would give you access to her wealth?”
My eyebrows rise to my hairline and I have to fight not to laugh. I had no idea Nikki came from money.
“Father,” Nikki whispers loudly.
“Nikki, I expected more from you,” he continues. “Now you’ve gotten yourself in to a real predicament and now I’m going to have to take care of you and a bastard baby.”
His words whip across the table like a lash. I have never felt rage like I am in this moment. It’s almost blinding and before I know it, I’m s
tanding, my chair having flown back and slammed to the floor as I lean across the table, meeting her father’s hard stare with a glare. “Let me be clear, sir,” I seethe. “This is my child and I will take care of it and I’ll also be taking care of Nikki as well. So you can take your goddamned money and shove it up your tight, arrogant ass.”
So much for calming down.
“Parker,” Nikki begs as she pulls at my arm, but I’m not done yet.
“And when you’re old and alone, don’t come looking for your daughter or our ‘bastard’ child to connect with. Because it won’t happen.” With that, I stand and pull out my wallet and toss a fifty on the table. Then I take my Scotch and toss it back before grabbing Nikki’s hand tightly in my own.
“Say good-bye, Nicole.”
Her eyes dart from me to her father as he stands and adjusts his tie. “You’ve really found yourself a winner here, Nikki,” he remarks snidely. “You’ve never wanted for anything.” He shakes his head. “But maybe it’s time I let you handle life on your own. Maybe this . . .” he runs his eyes up and down my body with a look of disdained humor, “can take care of you. But I doubt it. Call me when things go to hell.”
“Parker . . . my hand,” Nikki says, softly. I hadn’t realized I’d been squeezing her hand so tightly, and we watch her father walk away. Turning to face her, I clench my teeth when I see the tears in her eyes she’s fighting not to let go of. She looks so lost. I know she’s scared about the baby; about me telling her we’re going to give us a shot. And now her father basically turned his back on her. I have to remind her that although it seems hard right now, this will all work out. I’ll make it so. I meant what I told her—I will be her anchor. I’ll hold her steady.
“Are you okay?”
She doesn’t answer, but nods and moves to leave. I pull her back to me and hug her tightly, not giving a shit that people at other tables are staring at us. Her arms weakly wrap around me and she presses her head to my chest. “It’s going to be okay. I know you don’t know me well, but I need you to trust me. I’m going to take care of you.” Her body trembles against mine as it succumbs to emotion. Fuck.
