Mickey's Baby

by Annie J. Rose

  It was a long, drawn-out process, as anything involving travel insurance usually is. When she was evaluated, the doctor praised my quick thinking for getting her out of the water and bandaging the wound. I thanked her, not mentioning the fact I’d been a SEAL, and I’d made a career of stabilizing wounded comrades for evacuation from combat zones. Kynzee held her sister’s hand while she got stitches. She was released, and I followed them back to their resort to make sure they got there safely. They all thanked me, several of them hugged me. Kynzee said I was still her hero. I thanked them all and wished them well. I was not sorry to have them in my rearview mirror though.

  It was past seven in the evening by the time I got home. I went straight to Karin’s cabin. I was beyond frustrated and impatient. She’d avoided me for over a week after our passionate reunion. I was tired of her going hot and cold on me. I’d hoped for better things when she moved here permanently. I had thought her mood swings about our relationship before had been because she was here on vacation and didn’t think we could get serious. However, it was not the vacation thing. I was beginning to understand that it was her. She didn’t see this as a real, serious relationship. She was just… having a prolonged fling with me. I was too damned old to do this drama. If she couldn’t be part of the kind of relationship I wanted, I didn’t know how I would handle it. Five years ago, even two years ago, I would have cut her loose. I would have said we want different things and moved on. That would have been that.

  But this was different. I might have to negotiate. Compromise. Give her time or space or something. Because I couldn’t see my way clear to imagine a life where it didn’t work out with her. I needed her so much I would be willing to do practically anything. Even admitting that to myself was a little alarming.

  I’d survived a mission that went south and had to carry a wounded man on my back to get him to safety. I’d spent seven weeks in Central America during the rainy season waiting on the timing to be right on a target—and I had an abscessed tooth that had to be treated by a guy in a barber shop that used a fucking thumbtack and a paper towel for the surgery. If one of my buddies hadn’t scored black market penicillin I would have died of that fever on a sweaty cot in a condemned building because we couldn’t blow our cover. I thought at the time it was as miserable as I was capable of being. Then I met Karin, and she blew all that away, making me happier and more wretched than I’d ever been.

  She had a lot of nerve acting hurt after dodging me for so long. She was sitting on the steps like she was waiting for me. I wanted to talk, and she damn well knew it. As I got closer, she stood up and held out her hand. Not to take my hand. She held it palm out, to stop me.

  “You’re going to listen to me,” I growled. It wasn’t exactly the soft opening I’d planned for, but the idea that she was going to block me before I even said a word put my teeth on edge.

  “Mickey, it’s fine,” she said.

  I stopped in my tracks. She came down the steps and met me there. So beautiful, but her eyes were shuttered, the lines bracketing her mouth seeming a little sad. I felt something was off. I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “I’m not mad. I’m not pouting or anything. You don’t have to storm over here ready to explain yourself. This isn’t a fight. It’s fine, I promise.”

  “What are you talking about? She was hurt. The girl on the beach that I was carrying. She was just some—"

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice sounding strange. Just like her faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, Karin’s voice was polite but detached. Like she wasn’t even there with me at all.

  “It doesn’t matter? As in you don’t believe me?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine, whatever happened. This won’t work between us. I want us to be friends.”

  I stared at her. Friends?

  “I don’t understand why you want to be just friends,” I said.

  “Look, you’re about to be my best friend’s brother-in-law. I don’t want to mess that up with drama, and basically that’s all we do. Back and forth, hot and cold, drama twenty-four seven.”

  I started to say something, but she held up her hand again to silence me.

  “I don’t want us to be mad at each other or not speaking or anything. I want us to be able to talk and be friendly and get along,” she said. I know I was looking at her like she was insane.

  “I don’t want to be your friend,” I said with some anger creeping into my voice.

  “That’s all I can offer you.”

  “Sit down and talk to me, Karin,” I said, “What brought this on? What about everything we had?”

  “We had a fling, Mick. It went on for too long. It wasn’t good for either of us. So this is the best solution for everyone. I’m going to be in Elise’s life and the baby’s life forever. So are you. That has to be worth being friends for. I know how important Lilly is to you and what a good uncle you are to her. I’m sure this baby means a lot to you, just like it does to me. We’re going to be family—shirttail family, but we’ll be around each other at events and stuff. Please make an effort to just—be nice. Don’t let resentment against me make a bigger problem,” she said.

  She sounded so reasonable. Like it was perfectly normal to have crazy, cabin trashing sex a week ago and admit how big our feelings were, and now we were just friends. I felt like everything had been turned upside down in the worst way. I wanted to grab her like a caveman would and crush her lips with mine until she gave in. Instead, I shook my head.

  “You do remember the night you came home, right?” I said, “the way I filled your place with flowers? The way we couldn’t even make it to the bed before we had to have each other? That need was so intense, and I know you felt it, too. Then on the waterbed—"

  “Let’s not inventory all the places we had sex, okay?” she said with a wry little smile, “it’s a long list and we don’t have all night to discuss it. Besides, that’s in the past. The night I came back, the way you welcomed me home—it was a mistake. I’m sorry for that. For acting like things could be the same between us.”

  “You said you missed me,” I said, and I stumbled over the words, pain coming out in my voice.

  Karin lifted her hand to touch my arm, but she drew her hand back without making contact. She gave me a sad smile, “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll be a better friend than I was a—"

  “Lover, Karin. We were lovers,” I said, and now my voice wasn’t pained at all. It was just bitter, “I can’t say I’ll be your friend because there is nothing I’ve ever wanted less in my life. Sit down and let’s talk about this.”

  Karin took a step back toward her porch and shrugged. She shook her head, turned around and went inside. I just stood there like a fucking idiot. I couldn’t figure out what the hell just happened to my life. She wasn’t mad and demanding an explanation. She was just—gone. It was over. There was no fight, no make-up sex, no resolution. Just the tension still in my body, braced for a fight, and the adrenaline with no place to go. I caught myself staring at her cabin and made myself turn around and go to Billy’s for a while.

  Chapter 12

  Karin

  “So apparently I’m useless again today,” I sighed. “I can’t brain. What is wrong with me?”

  “For me, it’s pregnancy hormones. My short-term memory is shot. I have to write everything on sticky notes now, or it just evaporates,” Elise said. “Are you sleeping okay?”

  “No,” I confessed, “I’m not sleeping for shit. And last night, I reread all the texts Mickey and I sent each other while I was back in New York. There were hundreds of them. Him sending me pics of his sushi at lunch, me talking about which deli had the best hummus that I’ll miss, and then there was the sexting and all the plans about what we’d do together when I moved here. He was going to rent a boat to take me out to this dive spot he likes and just spend the whole day there. We were going to spend the night on the sailboat. It was—we never did that,” I choked out.

  “You could.”
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  “No. No way,” I said.

  “You should talk to him.”

  “No, I should talk to you. Because you have a wedding to plan.”

  “This is true. If I want to get married before my ankles swell to the size of tree trunks.”

  “You’re only four months, and the dresses I’ve flagged for you are flowy and forgiving, but we still need to get a hustle on.”

  “Are you saying that I’m gaining weight even as we discuss this?”

  “Yes. Don’t cry or anything. I’ll get you a popsicle.”

  “I don’t want a popsicle. I want to help you feel less miserable—and yes, you are miserable. I have eyes. I can tell. And I want to plan this wedding because we want to be married before we have the baby. So that gives us a kind of obvious timeline here,” Elise said.

  “Yes. Absolutely. Now tell me what you’re thinking flower-wise. Color scheme?”

  “Local flowers, obviously. That means a lot of pinks and reds. I like those.”

  “Do you want to do the gender reveal with the inside of the cake? I saw it on Pinterest and it’s pretty cool. You get the gender scan, have the nurse put the answer in a sealed envelope and give it to the bakery and then when you cut your wedding cake, it’s either pink or blue inside!”

  “That’s—creepy!” Elise said. “Hey, we just got married, let’s celebrate with a slice of delicious cake announcing what genitals our baby will have!”

  I laughed, “Oh my God,” I said. “You ruined it. You ruined my cute Pinterest reception moment!”

  “What, you think that’s cute? Gender reveals are not really my thing anyway. But thanks for being on the lookout for creative ideas.”

  “There’s a thing where you put rows of nails on a board and hang donuts off them.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s farmhouse themed.”

  “I’ve been in farmhouses. Farmers don’t hang donuts on the wall. That’s just bizarre,” she said, and made me laugh again.

  “You are just shooting down everything.”

  “What?”

  “Call me old-fashioned. How about regular cake, chocolate cake that doesn’t reference the genitals of any family members past or future? Some ice-cold punch and a fruit tray and some tropical flowers. I’m sure the guys will bring kegs of Guinness.”

  “That’s so oversimplifying. I’ve been reading up on everything. I have a list of basic necessities—gift registry, venue, officiant, gown and suit, flowers, photographer, transport to the reception, a reception venue, food, champagne or sparkling cider in your case, band, sound system, cake, going away outfit and transportation and honeymoon reservation—"

  “I’m sweating. You’re making me sweat. I’m the perfectionist, remember? I want to keep this simple. All I really care about is being married to Brendan and starting our family.”

  “I know. You have me to take care of the rest of it,” I promised. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

  “You realize you’re the only person on earth allowed to say that to me,” she teased.

  “Yes. If Brendan had dared to say it, he’d be a eunuch.”

  “No, I’m partial to his balls.”

  “Ew.”

  “What, like you don’t like Mickey’s? I’m assuming all of the O’Shea men are hung like—"

  “Stop!” I screeched, “the baby will hear you. Her delicate ears do not need to hear you talking about her dad and uncles’ junk. My God!”

  “You are so funny. You’re supposed to be the wild one, but I say balls and you clutch your bonnet in horror!” she laughed.

  “I don’t want to think about any of the O’Shea men having balls,” I said.

  “They have balls. I can assure you,” she said.

  “Can we just stop talking about it?” I asked.

  “Okay, but you need to talk to Mickey. For real.”

  “No. And definitely not about his balls.”

  “What if he brings a date to the wedding, honey? You’ll see him with someone else. Do you really want that?” she asked gently.

  I shrugged even though it sickened me, “He’s allowed to have a life. I’m not with him. We’re just friends,” I said.

  “How did he take that?”

  “He wasn’t happy about it at first. I’m sure he’s fine with it now.”

  “You should text him. You know, as friends. See how he’s doing,” Elise prompted.

  “We’re not that good of friends,” I protested. “I’m not going to text him.”

  “Then I will.”

  “What? Give that here!” I said as she grabbed my phone.

  Elise tapped at the screen, and I shook my head, “NO! No way. Do NOT text him. I swear to God, Elise, I will have them stuff tiny plastic penises in your wedding cake and they’ll spill out all over you and ruin the photos if you text him!” I said.

  “There. Did it. I sent how are u buddy? Isn’t that what you are?” she teased.

  “You better not!” I said, “tell me you didn’t send that!”

  She grinned at me, “Of course, I did. If you’re friends and everything’s fine, why would that be a problem?”

  “Because we’re not going to be friends who talk or text or spend time together. Just friends that say hi if we see each other in the parking lot and act normal and polite at holidays,” I insisted.

  “That’s not being friends. Friends hang out and message each other and don’t just nod politely at events,” she said.

  “Then you and I have different definitions of friends, okay? He’ll think I want to talk to him!” I said.

  She laughed. I glared at her, feeling upset and a little silly for being upset over something small.

  “This is the most fun I’ve had in days,” she said.

  “I hope you pee your pants from laughing,” I said grouchily.

  “It’ll be worth it,” Elise said. “Oh, look, he texted you back!” She held up my phone. I made a grab for it, and she tossed it to me.

  OK, how are u? Was the reply. Not exactly Shakespeare, but it wasn’t too bad.

  Fine. I typed, sorry to bother u, that was Elise messing with me.

  He messaged back immediately: must be something in the water. Connor tried to get me to call you.

  For a second, I thought kind and affectionate thoughts about Connor, the eldest and grumpiest of the O’Shea brothers. Then I shook it off.

  I told Elise to buzz off, I replied.

  I glanced at her. She was silently chuckling at my furious texting.

  “Looks like somebody was happy to hear from her just a friend,” she said, looking pleased with herself.

  “If you weren’t pregnant, I would literally kick you right now,” I huffed and put the phone in my pocket. “I told him it was you and that I was telling you to mind your own business.”

  “You’re family. You are my business. Plus, I’m about to be an O’Shea, and they’re somewhere between the Kennedys and the Mob as far as family loyalty.”

  “That doesn’t affect me,” I said.

  “But you’re my family, and also you’re friends with Mickey.”

  “Don’t ever do that again,” I said crossly.

  “Look, are you going to be okay being my maid of honor? You know he’s the best man. You’ll have to walk in and out together, sit at the head table…”

  “I would never let anything like that mess up your wedding, El. I’m here for you, and I’m happy you picked me for your maid of honor. I mean, it’s not like there was really a competition, but still. I’m not giving that up, and I can be civil to him. We’re all adults.”

  “Is it going to bother you to see him?” she asked pointedly.

  “I think it’s safe to say that it may always bother me to see Mickey,” I admitted. “But it won’t be a problem.”

  “You know I could strongarm Brendan into picking one of his other brothers. Get him to fire Mickey as best man if you want.”

  “Are you kidding me? I
’m not going to pressure your groom to switch wedding attendants on my account,” I said. “But I love you for offering.”

  “I only have this power for a short time. I can play the pregnancy card. A little sniffling and then I’d say something about how I was just so worried it would hurt you to have to walk down the aisle with Mickey at the ceremony, and it’s making it hard for me to sleep…”

  “Oh my God, you’re evil! Using your mental well-being and the health of his child against him? You are such a genius and I’m jealous of your power,” I laughed. “But no. Save it for something that matters.”

  Chapter 13

  Mickey

  I settled my niece into her swing, the plastic one Connor and I had just hung securely to the playset my brothers and I built her. This was the swing we’d settled on after a week of arguments and firing product recall articles back and forth by message. It was the 100% recycled plastic, BPA-free, top safety-rated toddler swing that would allow baby Lilly to swing without danger. There had never been a child so overprotected by her uncles, and never had there been one so determined to give us all gray hair. She was sweet and sunny and fearless. It was a good thing she had her mom and dad watching over her and the four of us for backup, plus Elise. Because ever since she learned to crawl three months ago, there’d been no rest for the weary.

  Everything that could have a safety gate or barricade now had one. The hot tub was now surrounded by a fence and padlocked, and you may have to pass a retina scan to access it. To get to the beach or the street, she’d have to scale fences and brave some new unfriendly landscaping that Connor planted around the outside of the border we built around their small backyard. It was possible we were all happier when she couldn’t move on her own yet. Now it was O’Shea Family Mission Number One to keep her safe while she explored and experienced everything she was so curious about. She wasn’t walking yet, but she could toddle along with her parents helping her on the wet sand where she loved to squish her bare toes in. She also tried to eat the sand. We told Brandi she got that from her daddy.