Together: A Surprise Pregnancy Romance

by Jennifer Van Wyk

  “What do you mean?” I take a bite of one of the boneless wings.

  “She had to know that you were about the marriage stuff, right? Anyone can see that you’re a marriage kind of guy. Why wouldn’t she just break up with you rather than keep up the charade?”

  “Charade?”

  “Whatever you want to call it. She was basically lying to you.”

  “Well, you know how I feel about liars.”

  “Exactly. That’s why I’m okay with this change of plans.”

  “Wow. So much sympathy for your brother.”

  “Meh. You’ll survive,” she teases. “I love you, big brother. I’m always here for you.”

  “I know and I love you, too. Now that you know it didn’t happen…” I trail off, hoping she gets the picture. Nothing against my sister, but I’m in the mood to forget and talking to Josie about what didn’t happen doesn’t exactly make me forget.

  “Yeah. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Make sure you don’t drive home tonight. Call that guy, okay? The one that drives that local cab that I find super sketchy?”

  I almost roll my eyes at her comment. Our parents were killed by a drunk driver. We don’t drink and drive. Ever. Our small town doesn’t have cabs. The ‘guy’ Josie’s referring to is just a random person who needed extra money — he’s not sketchy at all but the vehicle he drives looks like there’s a high possibility that it’s been involved in a drug deal or two. He slapped a “Roy’s Taxi Service” on the side of an older minivan, posted about it on social media, and that was that.

  “I’ll call Roy. Don’t worry. I’m not an idiot.”

  “I know. But I worry.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, Josie. Sorry I didn’t have better news for you tonight.”

  “Maybe it’s not the news I was expecting, but it’s not terrible news. Everything happens for a reason, right?”

  It’s what we’ve been saying to each other since our parents died. They were driving home from the grocery store in the middle of the day and a drunk driver t-boned them on the driver’s side. Unfortunately, our parents’ car was hit with such force that it slammed into a semi-truck parked at the light, killing both our mother and father immediately. The drunk driver didn’t survive the accident either. The driver of the semi survived physically, but I know he’s suffered mentally since it happened.

  “Yup. Love you, Josie.”

  “Love you, Niko,” Josie says, using the nickname only she uses for me.

  I hang up just as the waitress delivers my water and whiskey and Coke. I thank her and dive into the wings. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her bringing the woman from earlier another drink also just as she starts eating what looks like enough food for an army. There’s hardly room on the table for even her plate.

  Did she order every appetizer on the menu? By the way she’s diving in, she has zero regrets over the abundance of food sitting in front of her. I don’t really blame her. The food here might be nothing out of the ordinary but it’s definitely tasty.

  I lick my fingers after devouring a buffalo wing and glance over at her again. She rolls her eyes and sits back in her seat after dipping a handful of cheesy fries into a bowl of ranch dressing and shoving them into her mouth. My own mouth waters in jealousy. Damn. I should have ordered the loaded fries, too.

  “Just come over and join me instead of staring,” she mumbles through a mouthful of food but loud enough that I can hear.

  My stomach drops and my face heats in embarrassment.

  “You heard me. But bring your wings with you.”

  Rather than letting her know how mortified I am, I clear my throat and throw back, “You sure there’s room on your table for more food and people?”

  She doesn’t answer. Instead, she gets up and drags the table next to hers over, moving chairs out of the way so there’s room for both of us. The table legs scrape along the hardwood floor and she huffs when she sits back down, rearranging all the platters of food.

  “Fine,” I grumble and join her.

  “Help yourself. None of this will reheat well but I couldn’t decide so I told her one of everything. Also if you help eat all this then I won’t feel so bad about myself when I go to bed tonight and given the fact that my boyfriend of three years told me tonight that he never saw himself getting married — not in general, oh no, TO ME — not adding more reason for me to be upset later on would be ideal.”

  A mozzarella stick dangles from my fingertips just an inch from my open mouth and I blink slowly.

  “Whoa.”

  She nods, scooping up a loaded down chip with spinach and artichoke dip. “Yup.” Then she plops the chip into her mouth and chews, thankfully with her mouth closed.

  For the next ten minutes, we eat in relative silence. Indulging in the feast of greasy bar food. I could eat shit like this every day and be happy. My body wouldn’t be, but that’s to worry about later. Tonight, I’m indulging. And, apparently, so is my dinner partner.

  I don’t even know her name.

  She doesn’t know mine, either.

  “What’s your story?” she asks, taking a break from eating to drink some of her beer. She must have switched from the vodka she had earlier. Something I should probably do as well. Though, I really should just not drink any more alcohol but much like the food, I’ll worry about that later.

  I signal for the waitress and when she stops, I order a beer and another for the woman as well. She refills our waters and moves to the bar to get our beers.

  “I don’t normally drink like this,” I tell her.

  “Me either. It’s been months since I drank. That’s why I ordered so much food. I knew I needed something to soak it up or I’d be puking. Probably will puke anyway,” she admits sheepishly, “but at least it will be more than just the burn of alcohol.”

  The corner of my mouth ticks up. “I get that. So, if we’re going to be sharing a meal, I suppose we should know the basics. What’s your name?”

  She pauses, then grins. “Sally.”

  Something tells me she’s lying. I don’t know how I know but to test my theory I tell her, “I’m… Harry.”

  That pretty smile widens and she wipes her hands on a napkin and swallows, then sticks her hand out for me to shake. I take her small hand in mine and wonder if she feels the calluses on my palms and if she does, what she thinks about them.

  “Nice to meet you, Sally.”

  “You, too, Harry. But… don’t think I didn’t notice that you side-stepped me asking what your story is. Besides, you’re the one who said she should know the basics. I think that means more than just a first name, right?” She winks at the mention of us exchanging names, which tells me that I was right. We’re playing a game. That’s perfectly fine since I’ve had enough reality today.

  I sigh heavily. “Well. Turns out, Sally,” I wink back and she laughs a little, stabbing her fork into a boneless wing and dipping it into some ranch dressing, “that our story isn’t all that different. Proposed to my girlfriend tonight. She told me no. Her reason was that she never wants to get married or have children and since she’s so generous and caring, she’s letting me go so I can find “the one”.” I use finger quotes to emphasize the term the one and she rolls her eyes.

  “She’s as sweet as my ex, it sounds.”

  “Yup. Couple of assholes,” I tell her, holding up my pint of beer and we clink glasses.

  “Definitely assholes.”

  Her laughter is a light tinkling sound that eases some of the grief that was settling in. Funny how grief can be so fickle. Maybe my sister’s right, I should be glad that Stacia ended it. If I was really that heartbroken, wouldn’t I be at home crying right now instead of talking — and drinking — with this pretty new friend? And wouldn’t it take me longer to think of someone else as pretty?

  We take a drink, toasting one another over our asshole ex unification, and I relax just a little.

  “I’m sorry your ex was an asshole,” I tell her.

 
She nods. “Yeah, me, too. Can I be honest about something, though?”

  “If you can’t be honest with a total stranger, who can you be honest with?” I ask and take another drink.

  “He never gave me an orgasm.”

  And then I spew beer right in her face.

  Then it clicks why she called herself Sally, because of the orgasm thing in the movie. Damn. For being halfway to drunk, I’m sure thinking spot on.

  Chapter Two

  Ashley

  “Sorry! Shit.” Harry hands me a stack of napkins as he coughs, hitting his chest with his fist.

  I grin at his discomfort. I wasn’t lying about what I said, but I also knew the shock value would be there and wanted to see what his reaction would be. Turned out even better than I expected.

  After he recovers, wiping his chin and eyes, resituating himself in the chair, he clears his throat and then looks at me.

  “Come again?”

  “Funny choice of words there, Harry.” I smirk. “You really want me to say it again?”

  “Uh, no. Once was enough. How long were you together again?”

  “Three years.”

  “Three.” He looks around the room as if not wanting to make eye contact with me and asks, his eyes focused on somewhere off in the distance. “Not once?”

  “Nope. Not once. At least by him.”

  Looking at his profile, I see his eyebrows furrow and his white teeth drag over his bottom lip. It’s a simple move but has a seductive tone to it. Which means I really do not need to be drinking anymore liquor tonight if I think teeth dragging on his lip is seductive.

  I take a long swig of my cocktail and wish I had another waiting in the helm.

  “Three?” he asks again.

  “Three. Long. Years.”

  “Huh.”

  “I know.”

  “So is he… does he like women?”

  “What do you mean? Of course he likes women. He was with me for three years.”

  He turns his head to look at me, his dark eyes taking me in. When I sat down at the bar earlier, I noticed him immediately. I mean, of course I did. He’s incredibly attractive. Sexy, even. Probably the sexiest man I’ve ever talked to and if I didn’t have a little bit of liquor in my system right now, I’d probably be too nervous to carry on a conversation with him, much less tell him to eat with me or stop staring.

  I want to run my fingers through his hair because it looks so soft and silky. I flip my own, because now that I started thinking about his hair, I can’t stop. It’s a gorgeous shade of brown that looks like it’s been kissed by the sun for some highlights. And, it deserves repeating, it looks silky and smooth and oh my gosh, I’m running my fingers through my own hair right now and I know I’m staring at him and practically drooling! But who could blame me? The longer I stare, the more I notice about him. He has a perfect amount of facial hair that covers his face. Not just scruff but not a bushy beard either. Even his eyebrows are sexy. They look groomed but not overly so. And just now, he raised one in that way that people can do that makes me jealous. He’s probably challenging me because he knows that I’m staring at him, taking in every little inch of his handsome face. Whatever. Let him challenge. I’m a very busy woman at the moment. That very straight nose isn’t going to stare at himself.

  His teeth are incredibly white, too. It’s something that I notice because of my job as a dental hygienist. That’s what I’m going to tell myself, anyway. It couldn’t possibly be because this man is sexy as hell. And now I’m staring at his mouth and he knows it, if his bright smile is any indication.

  I watch as his lips move and I listen closely, wondering if he’s going to drop the fact that I just told a perfect stranger that my ex-boyfriend never gave me orgasms.

  And what he says next proves that he doesn’t give a shit if it’s polite or not, he’s got questions. “I know he was with you for three years, but how could he have not known how to bring you to orgasm? How did you survive without orgasms? You surely gave them to yourself in that amount of time, right? That’s what you were suggesting, yeah? I mean, I know it’s not the same thing as a guy — or a girl — knowing what to do for you but still. That’s messed up.”

  He just asked that. Right now. He didn’t blink or flinch or wince or act uncomfortable in any way. Just straight up asked me how a man could be with me for three years without knowing my body enough to bring me to orgasm. And then he added in asking if I masturbated while I was with him. Now it’s my turn to be embarrassed.

  “Well… I’m not entirely sure. Maybe he didn’t know that I never got there? I’m a very good actress.”

  Harry shakes his head. “Nuh uh.” Then he turns fully to face me, sliding his plate out of the way and leaning his elbows in in its place. “Listen to me very closely, Sally. What you’re saying? Not possible. A man is any man at all, he knows his woman’s body and doesn’t need a road map to get her there. Moreover, he definitely doesn’t let it end without it happening at least once. But even more than what a man would do in a normal circumstance, a woman like you? As drop dead gorgeous as you are? There’s no way he wouldn’t want to take his time and do everything in his power to get you there.”

  Whoa. A whoosh goes through my entire body at his words. But more than that, the gruffness in his voice and the heated look in his eyes when he said them.

  Woo boy, it’s suddenly extremely hot in here.

  My chest rises and falls as I take in a deep breath.

  I’m gorgeous? No. Drop dead gorgeous. That’s what he said. No one has ever told me that before. Not a single person.

  “You don’t say?” Well, crap. My voice came out breathy even though I had hoped it wouldn’t. But it’s out there now.

  “I do. I’m sorry he was not only an asshole, but also a completely incompetent selfish tool bag. My opinion is that you lucked out that he’s in your rearview mirror.”

  “Well, hopefully some orgasms are in front of me.”

  His eyes widen and I’m just going to crawl under the table and die right now. I just said that. Right then. That’s what I said in front of him. That I was hoping for orgasms. What is wrong with me? Not for wanting orgasms, obviously. But for saying that to a complete stranger! Ugh. I’m the worst.

  I take my beer and down the last of it, reaching for the new beer that our waitress just set down in front of me, swallowing down a big gulp. As soon as I do, I wince, realizing that the reason for my comment about orgasms is absolutely because of my alcohol intake.

  Harry reaches over the table and grabs my beer. “I think you’ve had enough,” he says, teasingly.

  I stretch my lips out in an eek face and nod in agreement. “Maybe.”

  He winks and slides the beer back across the table. “I was only teasing, you know? I don’t give a shit if you get totally sauced. Have fun. Live it up.”

  “That’s oddly sweet. My ex always hated it if I had any fun.”

  “He’s a giant dick.”

  “Actually,” I hold up my fingers only an inch apart, “he had a tiny one.” I giggle hysterically at my own joke and he roars with laughter.

  “That’s…” He practically wheezes, slapping his thigh and throwing his head back. “Fuck, girl, that’s amazing. I don’t even care if the alcohol made you say that, or if it’s a lie, I’m rolling with it.”

  “I guess now we know why he never gave me orgasms,” I add in, loving his smile and laughter. If I would have said anything like that around Zachary, he would have told me plain and simple to grow up.

  “That probably factored in, I’m sure. But there are more ways to give a woman pleasure than with his dick. Don’t make even a small excuse for him. And don’t give him a second thought now. He’s not worth it.”

  I shake my head, feeling a little lightheaded. “Aggghhh!” I want to shake my fists, pace the room, and scream out my anger. I won’t do any of that, though, because I’m in a public place but… “You’re right. I know you are. Ugh!” I groan loudly. I have
all this pent-up anger and nowhere for it to go. Too bad for Harry that he’s about to be on the receiving end. “And he was always kind of a jerk, too. He acted like I should be honored to be in his presence. That he was above me somehow. Plus, he really wasn’t as attractive as he thought he was. It was all this show. And he wore enough cologne to cover up body odor from an entire high school football team. Why didn’t I just break up with him myself? Why did I wait for him to do it for me? Am I that afraid of being alone? Yes. Yes, I am. That’s why… never mind. I wouldn’t talk like this to a stranger if I hadn’t had too much to drink. I’ll have to call that Roy guy to get me home if I don’t stop drinking soon.”

  Harry nods, raising his glass in my direction, not commenting on the fact that I rambled and switched gears in the middle of my rant. “I was thinking the same thing about calling him. I hadn’t planned on drinking much tonight but fuck it. I’m this far gone already, might as well bring it on home.”

  I chuckle, feeling a bit lighter from the crappy day I had. Whether it’s the alcohol, the food, or the company, I don’t know. But it feels good.

  “So yours didn’t bring you to orgasm and mine never wanted to get married, but forgot to mention that to me in the three years we were together.”

  “And you proposed?”

  He winces. “With my grandmother’s ring.”

  “Yikes.”

  He shrugs and moves his head side to side in an ‘it is what it is’ motion. “Better that she said no than me hand over a family heirloom and the marriage fall apart because it’s only what one of us really wanted.”

  That’s true. However… “You don’t think you could have been with her and just never married? Plenty of people do that, you know.”

  Harry drains the last of his beer and motions for another. He might have only been thinking about calling Roy the Taxi guy for help getting home, but my guess is that thought is going to stick.

  He makes a face when he swallows his beer, places a fist against his chest, and holds in a burp from the looks of it. Then he shakes his head. “It wouldn’t have worked. Deep down, I knew I needed to make it official or she’d always have the excuse of not being tied to me, you know?”