In With the New Baby

by Jamie Knight

  I don’t want to be mad at him just now. I’m already mad at the world. Well, the world except for Catharine – I’m never mad at her.

  He cradles his head in his hands and looks up at the ceiling.

  I tell him what happened, somehow zoning in on the comment Margie had made, even though it was more innocuous than the blunt one Anne had made, and how I don’t feel great about myself and my body, especially with him.

  He sits up and looks at me.

  “Are you kiddin’ me?”

  I sit up as well.

  “No,” I say feeling foolish and embarrassed.

  “Come here, babe,” he says and holds me. “You are a beautiful woman with sexy curves. And I love every single one of those curves.”

  “Oh, Lincoln,” I whine.

  “If I wanted to be with a skinny chick with no meat on her and ribs sticking out, I might as well

  date a boy.”

  I laugh. “I never thought about that before.”

  “Yeah, that’s what my gay buddy John says.”

  “Oh, the really smart one?”

  “Yeah, and I have nothing against guys but I want to be with a woman,” he says. “And that woman is you.”

  “Oh, Lincoln,” I whine again.

  He kisses me and I rest my head on his shoulder.

  “Have you eaten?” I ask.

  “No,” he says. “I’m starving.”

  “I was just about to order room service.”

  “Great,” he says. “Let’s eat.”

  “And then what?” I ask.

  “And then you can have me for dessert,” he says.

  I pick up the phone and order room service.

  Yes, I really don’t need to starve myself any longer.

  In any way.

  Chapter 21

  Lincoln

  After we eat, I get to feast on Amanda’s hot little pussy. And I enjoy devouring her, spreading her legs open and munching on her sweet, hard little clit. I suck on it while fingering her, and she starts shouting so loud I’m afraid we’ll get kicked out by the hotel staff.

  “Oh, Lincoln. Lincoln!” she yells. “I’m cumming!”

  Her juices are pouring into my mouth and I’m lapping them up like I might die of thirst without them. Oh, how I love making her little pussy quiver. She wiggles around on the bed, enjoying the orgasm as my tongue circles around her clit some more.

  Then I tell her to get on all fours and I look at her plump ass lovingly.

  “I can’t believe you were worried I wouldn’t like this amazingly hot ass,” I tell her, spanking it a bit.

  “Ouch!” she calls out, but it’s more in a pleasantly surprised tone of voice than one that sounds as if she’s actually hurt.

  “You don’t like that?” I ask her, slapping her again.

  “Mmmm. Yeah, I do,” she admits.

  I grab ahold of her ass cheek with one hand and start playing with her clit with my other hand. She moans and cums again for me. I stretch her ass cheeks and pussy lips open so I have a great view of her pussy mid-orgasm. It’s shaking and quivering and so much wetness is coming out of it that I think I’m in heaven.

  I’m so hard I can’t take it anymore. So I slip my cock inside her tight little hole and fuck her hard, holding onto her hips, pulling her closer to me so I can get all the way up inside her.

  “You’re stuffing me so full,” she cries out. “I love it.”

  “I love it, too,” I tell her, as I feel my hard, raw cock start to pulse and throb inside her warm, naked pussy.

  I love you, I start to say, but I hold back.

  How could this be love? Deep infatuation, but not love, right? I still haven’t even decided so many things. Whether I’m going to give up fighting so that I can live a long, healthy life with her. Whether I’m going to go to Texas with her.

  There’s no time to think any deeper about any of it, though, because I’m so deep in her that I’m starting to cum. I can tell she is, too, as she reaches back and underneath her, playing with my balls and moaning.

  Soon, she’s screaming my name loudly again as I’m pounding her tight little pussy with my cock. And I’m shooting my cum into her, grunting while we both say that the other is making us cum.

  Finally, spent and exhausted, we cuddle in the bed.

  “That was amazing,” she says.

  “Sure was.”

  I think we’re going to just drift off to sleep when she says the words I’ve been dreading.

  “So, I hear you might be fighting again soon?”

  I just swallow hard, not saying anything.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Is it true?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

  “The girls were saying that some other fighter is taunting you. I didn’t even know what they were talking about really.”

  “Yeah. My agent wants me to do it but I’m still deciding.”

  “You’re still deciding on a lot of things.”

  “Yeah,” I tell her, hating to admit it, but she’s right, and I had just been thinking it, myself.

  “Look, if you don’t want to be serious…” she starts to say.

  “I do,” I insist.

  “Well, I think it’s best if we just wait a while so you can make these decisions. I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t even care what decisions you make but if we’re going to be anything serious, you should at least feel comfortable telling me about those decisions. And letting me into your life and what’s going on, you know?”

  “I understand.”

  I don’t know what else to say. She’s right – I shouldn’t toy with her heart. A big part of me wants to give up everything for her. My fighting career. My inhibitions about going to Texas with her. My fears about my past.

  But I’m not used to being vulnerable with anyone. I haven’t let my guard down to be with any woman, ever. It was why I’d always preferred one night stands and no-strings-attached relationships.

  Things with Amanda are different. But I’m still not sure how to navigate it all. I’m so afraid of fucking up. And it seems like that’s what I’m doing, anyway.

  Sometimes I wonder why I even tried, knowing I’m not relationship material. But then when I look at Amanda, I know why: Because I love her. I just have to sort my shit out and figure out how to become good relationship material. Not for just anyone, but for her.

  Chapter 22

  Lincoln

  The next day, I pick up the phone and decide I’m going to call Damien and ask for that official referral to Dr. Mack. I need to get some things right in my life so I can be the kind of guy Amanda deserves. I may have a lot of money and fame, but I want to have peace and security, too.

  First, I decide, I’ll quit fighting. I know that Amanda doesn’t approve of it as my physical therapist, let alone my girlfriend, and all my doctors have advised me to stop. I want to be in good physical health for Amanda.

  Second, I’ll go to Texas with Amanda. I won’t have to see my mom or talk to her or face my old demons. I’ll just go meet her family and have a fun vacation with her over the holidays.

  Third, I’ll do this thing that Damien has been bugging me to do, about getting treatment with the psychiatrist. Or psychologist. Whatever Dr. Mack is.

  I know I have issues from my past. Dating back from before I was at war, even. My childhood was pretty traumatic due to my mom.

  And even though I hate these new-fangled definitions that doctors use to diagnose everyone with everything and pump meds to them constantly, maybe there’s something to this “PTSD” thing. Post traumatic stress disorder. I guess it could actually be a thing. Who knows? Maybe Dr. Mack can help me figure it out.

  So, I tell myself that today’s the day I become a better person, and pick up the phone to dial Damien. Instead, though, I see that I have a voicemail. It’s from my mother.

  My mother.

  Wow.

  It must have come in when I was at the hotel with Amanda, and had
my phone off. It had run out of battery and died, and I hadn’t charged it until just now, since I’m back at my house.

  Why the fuck was my mother calling me?

  In the past, she’d send letters full of guilt trips, saying she missed me and why did I have to ignore her and can’t we get together? But the few times I had returned to Texas since I’d left as a teenager for the SEALs, she had only wanted money from me. She never could kick her bad habits or addictions for longer than it took to write me those stupid letters.

  So, the fact that she called me is strange. Let’s just say she’s not the telephone type, or at least not when it comes to me. She hates to talk to me about anything serious because I just call her out on things she wants to ignore.

  Despite my better instincts, I push “play.”

  “Hey, Lincoln, it’s Ma.” Her voice sounds the same, yet different. It’s still high-pitched and kind of nasally. But it sounds stronger now, steadier, whereas it used to waver and crack. “I know it’s been a while and I can understand if you don’t want to talk to me, if you don’t trust a word I say anymore. But I wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not being there for you in the past, for not protecting you. You grew up into such a strong man, and I’m proud of you, but I’m sad that you had to protect yourself so much, because I didn’t. Please call me if you want to talk. I love you.”

  That’s it. The message was over.

  I know I should feel happy that my mom apologized. She’s never come out and said those words before. She seems completely genuine.

  But instead, I just feel rage. Maybe it’s a case of ‘too little, too late’ but something she had said hit some buttons I’m not ready to have hit.

  She didn’t protect me.

  She sure didn’t.

  I already knew this, so why do I feel such rage now that she stated that fact on my voicemail?

  I don’t know why I’m feeling anything that I’m feeling, but it just comes out. It’s kind of like that first day I met Amanda, how I exploded in her office. I guess it’s just something about having to face facts that sets me over the edge.

  They want me to stop fighting.

  They want me to have all kinds of medical stuff done to my knee.

  The want me to go Texas and face my fears and my past and act like a normal human being when I’m a fucking mess.

  I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t keep up the façade, my desperate attempt to live a normal, happy life. Something within me breaks. It’s like the balloon of hope just pops, right like that.

  And I’m seeing flashbacks of horrific things that happened over there when I was at war. I’m seeing that asshole who tried to hurt me when I was a child.

  I didn’t protect you.

  You had to protect yourself.

  I don’t call Damien. Instead, I call Bill.

  “Hey, yo, Lincoln, I’ve been waiting for your call,” he says, as soon as he picks up. “Are you ready to face Ramirez?”

  “Let’s do it,” I tell him. “Set it up. I’m ready. I’m more than ready.”

  Chapter 23

  Amanda

  5 Weeks Later

  It’s New Year’s Eve, and I’m celebrating in Odessa with my family. Lincoln didn’t come, of course. He never made good on any of his promises.

  I heard he fought that guy they call Spider something. I heard he won, and beat him up pretty bad in the process. But I heard it from other people. But not from Lincoln. Because I haven’t heard from him since I told him that if he wanted anything serious with me, he had to let me into his life.

  I guess he and I wanted different things, and I was naïve to think that could magically change.

  Still, though, I can’t help but wish he was here. My parents and I are eating lobster and watching the horses run around outside on my dad’s ranch, through the big bay windows in the dining room. It’s nice, but it would be nicer if Lincoln was with me.

  After my little hotel getaway, I made up with Margie and Anne. We had Thanksgiving together – Friendsgiving, actually – and I told them that they had both been right, despite Catharine’s protests about how I shouldn’t capitulate to them.

  “Margie, you were right that I was trying to improve my looks, and everything about my life, for Lincoln. And Anne, you were right that I shouldn’t have even been doing that, because he’s my client and that’s unprofessional.” I’d sighed, as if admitting to my parents, instead of my friends, that I’d messed up. “Among other reasons. Look, you guys were right about him; he’s too hot and cold, he’s not that into me.”

  I had also told them that I think I was mostly upset that they knew the news about Lincoln wanting to fight Ramirez, and I hadn’t. To find out from other people really sucked. They apologized again for their rude comments, and I forgave them, but really I knew it was my own stupid fault – I should have listened to them and I shouldn’t have trusted Lincoln.

  It had been a few days since I’d seen him and he hadn’t called. Then he’d had that big fight without even mentioning to me. That was my clue that I needed to just move on.

  Somehow.

  That had proven pretty difficult, considering that I hadn’t gotten my period since before I’d first met Lincoln, and I was beginning to expect that somehow my trusted birth control Pill had failed me. Sure enough, I went into town to buy a pregnancy test, and it was positive.

  So now, here I am with my parents and with Lincoln’s baby inside me, on New Year’s Eve. I’m going to be a single mom. I know Lincoln’s not prepared to deal with having a baby – he’s not even prepared to deal with a relationship, with letting me into his life and telling me anything important about it.

  And I’ve already decided not to tell him about it, at least not until things have settled down and I’ve been able to deal with the shocking revelation myself. I don’t want to give him one more thing to have to worry about or decide about.

  I’ve decided, pretty easily, that I’m keeping this baby. As soon as I found I was pregnant, I wanted to. I’ve talked with Catharine and she supports me in whatever decision I make, which is to keep it. Who needs the father of your baby when you have a friend like Catharine?

  Right?

  Right.

  Except that I’ve been wishing I still had him in my life. I miss his broad shoulders, his big, strong, comforting arms, his charming smile that is so rare because he’s always so adorably grumpy, and, not to mention of course, his huge cock and the way he knows what to do with it, to make me feel so good.

  I know I should be mad at him – and I am – but I also just miss him. I smile at my mom as she passes me some wine, declining it, and she looks at me a bit funny.

  “It’s good that you’re watching your calories, dear,” my dad says. “Jane, get her some water with some lemon in it. It’s more filling that way. And the more water you drink while you eat, the fuller you’ll get, without taking in unnecessary extra calories.”

  Gee, thanks, Dad, for the nutrition lesson I didn’t need, since I’m just going to get bigger instead of smaller, for the next nine months, anyway, I think, but obviously I don’t say that. I’m used to my dad’s lectures about my weight. And I haven’t told them I’m pregnant yet. I haven’t told anyone, except for Catharine.

  We make it through the meal and are having dessert when there’s a knock at the door.

  “Who could that be?” my mom asks. “I didn’t invite anyone except for Viola, and of course she was taking that cruise to the Caribbean so she shouldn’t come.”

  My parents’ lives were so different, here in Texas, than my own in New York City. I had willingly left the lavish lifestyle for one with more freedoms and less judgement. I think that’s what I admired about Lincoln so much. He has a lot of money, but he doesn’t act like it. He knows what it’s like to not have money, and he doesn’t forget where he came from.

  And speaking of Lincoln, he’s the one who was knocking on my parents’ door. My dad lets him in, scratching his head in
confusion.

  “Hello, I’m Lincoln,” Lincoln said, shaking my dad’s hand, and then my mom’s. “I’m Amanda’s boyfriend. I mean, I was. Hopefully I still am. I don’t know.”

  He looks at me and mouths, “Can we talk?”

  I kind of feel like I want to hit him but I also want to kiss him. I’ve never felt so damned confused in my life.

  “You have a boyfriend?” my mother is saying, and then she’s adding something about the fact that I never told her this, and why can’t we be besties like Viola and her daughter Karina, who are happily enjoying a Caribbean cruise together right now…

  But I’m not listening to her because I’m completely focused on Lincoln. I’m so mad at him for ignoring me for all this time, but I’m also so glad he’s here.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell my mom and dad.

  “Okay, honey, let us know if you need anything,” Dad says. “I hope everything works out for you and your boyfriend or not-boyfriend.”

  I can’t help but chuckle a little bit. My parents are pretentious and overbearing to the point of being obnoxious sometimes, but I know they love me. I just hope they’ll still love me when they find out I’m knocked up!

  “Lincoln, what are you doing here?” I ask him, as I take him to the outside deck.

  It’s colder than normal, being the end of December, and I had forgotten to grab my jacket from the hook in the front foyer before coming out here. I wrap the sweater I’m wearing over my black dress more tightly around me.

  “Don’t kill Catharine, but she told me your parents’ address. I begged her to.”

  Catharine did? I would normally expect 100% loyalty from her. So that means Lincoln must have really convinced her, with whatever he said to make her divulge the information. If Catharine believes in Lincoln now, I guess I should give him a chance.

  “Why?” I ask him. “Why are you here now, when you haven’t been talking to me for over a month, since before Thanksgiving? Ever since you disappeared after following me to that hotel upstate, remember?”