Love, Baby: a Crescent Cove Romantic Comedy Colletion

by Quinn, Taryn

  I bowed my head. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s sterling truth. Have I ever lied to you before?”

  “Does that include you leaving out the part about you being in the music business?”

  “Yes.” That he acted like that was no big thing just gave me more fuel for my fire. Too bad it was dangerously close to sputtering out.

  “I’m not denying you may have flown here solely for me, but it wasn’t because you were here to pledge your undying love.”

  “How do you know that?” he snapped. “Suddenly, you’re an expert on me now? You know all my thoughts and feelings?”

  “I know what you’ve shown me, and only that.” I dropped a clean brush in a pail and wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand. “If you came here for some reason other than us getting naked in the closest vehicle, yay. That’s very sweet. I’d probably be flattered if I wasn’t facing my future head-on.”

  “Considering I just found out you’re carrying my child, I think I’m doing quite well.”

  “Of course you are, because you know exactly where to find the door.”

  “Goddammit, woman, will you listen to me?” He stepped forward and gripped my shoulders in his strong hands, shaking me just enough to make me grit my teeth. “I’m trying to say I want to be part of this. I have to be part of this.”

  Even as hope surged in my chest, I squashed it. I couldn’t afford to wish on any more shooting stars.

  Or any more disappearing rockstars.

  “That’s just it,” I whispered. “You’re a part of it. It’s all happening inside of me. I’ve been here every day, doing all of this alone. Can you get that?”

  “I get it.” He wrapped himself around me, crossing his arms over my chest until I was completely surrounded in his warmth and comforting smell. “I regret you had to do any of this alone. That I missed even a minute. I wish to God I’d picked up those calls. But there’s something I haven’t told you about a situation in my past—”

  “A woman.”

  His lack of answer was answer enough.

  I swallowed deeply and stared straight ahead until the bright swirls of paint on the brushes in the sink blurred together. I wanted to curl into him and never, ever leave. But somehow, I stood strong. “I can’t hear about any of that today.”

  “Okay. Whatever you need.”

  “Right now, I need you to go,” I said brokenly. I hated that I was on the verge of tears again. Still. I also hated like hell to let him out of my sight for a second.

  What if this was the last time I ever saw him? Would I survive it?

  But if he stayed, I would crumble. He would sneak his way under my defenses, and I needed to do what was best for my child—not me. It would never be about just me and my needs again. It was one thing if he breezed in and out of my life. Quite another if he did the same thing with my baby.

  “Ivy, baby, please.” His husky voice against my ear was nearly my undoing. “Let me stay and make this up—”

  I let out a dry laugh. “We can’t make this up in bed like we did everything else.”

  “Christ, I didn’t mean like that—”

  “Rory, just go. Please.” The shuddering breath he released made me toss him a bone. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  If you’re still around.

  He didn’t answer for a minute or more. All he did was hold me and let out more of those shaky, pain-filled breaths. Each one tore through me.

  I came so close to turning and taking it all back. All I wanted was for him to stay. For real. Not just for me, but for the baby. For love, not only responsibility. It was all too soon, I knew, and I was expecting far too much. I wanted the fairy tale, and he was a flesh and blood man.

  Except he’d been the reason I’d dreamed so big in the first place. Because deep down, I knew we could live that life. It wouldn’t be perfect, but we could be happy together.

  All three of us could be.

  Or we could have been if he wasn’t so attached to escape routes. And a rockstar never changed his spots, did he?

  When Rory finally let me go, I wanted to sob. Yet somehow my eyes stayed dry.

  “For you, I’ll go. Not for me. If it was up to me, I’d sleep on this truck floor if necessary. If that’s what it would take to prove to you I’m not going anywhere. You’re the one making me go, not me.”

  He walked to the door and took a step down, then another before stopping and turning back. “I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early. Make sure you rest. And dream of me, as I dream of you.”

  The last bit I wasn’t sure if I’d heard or imagined. He was gone before I could ask.

  I squeezed my eyes closed and let out a tired laugh.

  Big surprise there.

  Twenty-One

  I tugged the brim of my pink baseball hat lower over my eyes. The sun was brutal and my to-do list seemed never ending. I was ticking things off on my app on my phone, the letters jittering a little as I walked.

  I missed my coffee so damn much.

  The measly eight ounces a day I was allowed per my doctor seemed more like a tease. Who could survive on that? Especially when sleep had been non-existent in my life.

  All night long, the shock and panic in his eyes were replaying on a loop.

  Rory was back.

  Rory staring at my belly like it was an alien followed directly by him asking who the father was.

  Yeah, that part was the suck and I still couldn’t get my anger in check about it. How dare he think that?

  I smoothed my hand over my little bump. Almost four months along and I was already starting to show, thank you very much short torso.

  Did he know me at all?

  No.

  I ignored the little voice. He damn well should.

  How would he know? You guys hung out no more than a week total.

  Shut up.

  I wasn’t sure which was worse, him coming back to the Cove, or him never showing his face again. At least his absence meant I could push thoughts of him out of my brain and concentrate on the things I could control.

  Doctor’s appointments and my ice cream truck.

  I stuffed my phone into the front pocket of my overalls. I was trying out one of the shirts for Rolling Cones and it was too freaking small. I didn’t have any other shirts that were clean and actually fit because I was still in denial that my clothes were too tight.

  And I had a shift at the diner that afternoon. Those shirts didn’t fit either. Neither did my pants. The little button extender trick wasn’t working anymore, and Kinleigh had let my last few pairs out as far as possible.

  I had new ones on order.

  For now, I had the trusty OshKosh B’gosh looking overalls that made me look like a damn toddler. But they were roomy. I looked down at the slight swell pushing at the denim. At least they were roomy for now. I’d probably have to get a new pair of these as well.

  Or you could get maternity clothes.

  No.

  All the things I’d looked at were either a summer tent or tight on purpose which showed off every new bump and hump in my repertoire. I was not one of those yoga moms who barely looked pregnant. Or adorable like Zoe.

  I dragged my hand against my cheeks and groaned. Stupid tears on top off it all.

  Nope, I was curving everywhere, due to a little extra ice cream consumption. I’d already busted out of two new bras, dammit.

  “There you are.”

  I turned at Kinleigh’s voice. “Hey. What are you doing out here? Don’t you have a shipment coming in?”

  She caught up to me on the sidewalk. “I’m not sure how you can outwalk me with that cute little waddle.”

  “Shut up.”

  She slid her arm through mine. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I’d called her after Rory left last night and had imbibed another pint of Mintnight in Paris—my new flavor of mint with a dark chocolate swirl—with her at the store. I ate, she mended a new dress she’d bought on eBay.<
br />
  “Uh huh. That’s why your hair isn’t washed?”

  “I don’t wash it every day.” I’d create my own landfill with shampoo bottles if I did that. Long, thick hair wasn’t easy to maintain. However, she was correct I hadn’t gotten into the shower. I’d finally dozed off around the time of birds started chirping this morning.

  Could I call it training for the sleepless nights coming my way with the baby?

  Probably not.

  She didn’t answer. In true Kinleigh fashion, she waited me out. I blew out a breath. “I’m fine, just irritable.”

  “You should be. That asshat showed up and totally acted like a punk.”

  I swallowed a laugh. “A punk? Really?”

  “Shut up. You know what I mean.” She laced her fingers with mine. “I’m just worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “That’s what you always say.”

  “I’m fat.”

  “You are not. You barely have a baby bump. If you looked at you from the back, you wouldn’t even know you were preggers.”

  “Yeah, that’s a lie. My ass is expanding, thanks to my addiction to my own ice cream. You’d think I would be tired of it since I’ve been making vats of it for the last few weeks.”

  “That baby is going to come out mint-flavored.”

  “Better than vanilla.” That still sent me to the bathroom to hurl faster than any other flavor in my arsenal. However, there were far too many people who liked vanilla as a base for tons of different flavors so I still had to make it. However, my brother and Kinleigh got to test those.

  I fussed with the buckle on my overalls, sliding it back up over my shoulder.

  “Here.” Kinleigh stopped me. She fixed the strap, tightened it and twisted it so it wouldn’t fall down. “Girl, you are a mess. What is that under there?” She peeked into the open button along my side.

  I slapped her hand away. “It’s one of my shirts.”

  She snapped the mixed material. It had a little stretch to it so the shirt wouldn’t be shapeless. I’d ordered them when I still had a figure. “Polyester? Have I taught you nothing?”

  “It’s easy to clean.”

  She rolled her eyes. “We need to get you some new clothes.”

  “Nothing fits. And everything feels weird. Oh, and pregnancy clothes suck.”

  She frowned. “Hmm.”

  “Hmm?”

  She tapped her lip with one lilac-colored nail. “We’ll see.”

  “Those cute clothes you have up there are not maternity wear.”

  “We’ll see.” She curved her arm around my back to my hip.

  I shook my head. I didn’t have it in me to ask what she meant. Besides, when she got that lost look in her eyes, there were measurements and ideas flinging around that I didn’t understand. Same as she didn’t understand my recipes.

  We didn’t question it, things just were.

  “It’s too hot for you to be out here all day. Promise me you’ll go into Brewed Awakening to cool off.”

  “I promise.”

  She halted outside Brewed Awakening. “I do have a truck to meet, but I need coffee.”

  “Ugh. I hate you.”

  “I don’t see why you don’t have a cup of coffee. Plenty of pregnant women don’t follow that rule.”

  “Not this one.” My coffee addiction would not be the reason my child had some issue during delivery or during gestation, or a host of other horrifying things I’d read in the baby books.

  “Suit yourself.” She smiled at me, then her gaze slid past me to my ice cream truck. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  I closed my eyes. “No way.” He’d told me he was going to come back, but I didn’t really believe him. Part of me assumed he’d just disappear and send me checks monthly like a car payment.

  She gripped my hand again. “Do you want me to get rid of him?”

  “I just want to talk, fairy queen.” His voice slid down my spine like a caress.

  I turned. “You don’t get to call me that anymore, Rory.”

  He winced as if I’d taken aim at him. Again.

  “Right. I’m sorry, Ivy Rose.”

  I flattened my lips and saw red. It was my name, but it sounded far different coming out of him. That lilt of Ireland and sadness. I shouldn’t be affected by it. He was an utter shit.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Why don’t you scram? It’s what you’re best at.” Kinleigh’s strawberry curls floated around her head in the summer breeze. She was wearing a blue sundress with tiny roses all over it. Her wild blue eyes were fierce and she looked like she was heading into battle. All she needed was her trusty baseball bat from upstairs.

  I’d seen her wield it. It was fairly impressive.

  “I’m not running anymore.” Rory’s voice was strong and sure.

  “If you say so.” I was tired and there was still so much to do on the truck. August would be by in the afternoon to help, but for now, I was on my own.

  By the time I’d gotten home last night, August had already been asleep in front of the TV. His own hours were just as wicked as mine.

  I brushed by Rory and unlocked the back of the truck then climbed up.

  Rory hovered outside the doorway, flicking his finger over the flap on his reusable coffee cup. He cleared his throat. “I got you a coffee.”

  “I can’t drink that. Pregnant, remember?”

  He swallowed and pulled off his aviator sunglasses to tuck into the neck of his shirt. “Right. It’s decaf, but it’s your flavors. Mint and chocolate.”

  “Should have just gotten me a hot chocolate. Oh, wait, it’s ninety degrees out.”

  He ran the palm of his hand along the back of his neck. “Right. It’s iced.”

  “Oh.”

  I turned to see the chocolate confection sitting on the counter of the receiving window. I hadn’t bothered to put the shutters down last night since a layer of paint needed to dry before I took another crack at it today.

  I was tired of painting.

  For such a small truck, it was surprisingly difficult for me to get to every corner due to my newly added belly as well as being vertically challenged. But there were many years of abuse that needed to be covered. I’d had the entire truck powder coated on the outside, but it wasn’t quite as easy to do inside.

  Especially with all the equipment I had.

  The genius lightbulb moment Kinleigh had for the name of the truck had also changed half of my ideas. It was so much snappier. I wish I’d thought of it. But I knew it was a goldmine when I told Macy the new name of the truck.

  Ivy’s Sweets had been cute. So had the turquoise and pink effects. However, Rolling Cones was catchy and perfect to use for social media blasts. I had dozens of names for flavors with the new musical slant.

  We’d come up with a jukebox theme, and it had just exploded after that. So much that I couldn’t keep up with all the ideas.

  “May I come onboard?”

  “Do I look like a captain?”

  He set his coffee just inside the door then jammed his hands into his pockets as he moved back again. “A little. Change out the pink hat for an old-timey conductor stripe and you’d be right there. Kind of.”

  I looked down at my overalls. “Are you making a crack?”

  His almost smile vanished. “No.”

  I shrugged. “It was almost a good joke.” I sighed. “Are you just going to stand there and stare at me?”

  “You could put me to work.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Sure about that?”

  He lifted his chin. “I want to help.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s important to you.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t talk sweet, L—Rory.”

  His eyes flared to life, then shuttered. “I’m not. I swear it. I’m proud of all of this. Proud of you for what you’re doing.”

  I didn’t want the flare of pleasure to hit me so hard, but it did. It was amazing
, and I’d done it on my own after saving for years. A bit of help from friends and family—even Caleb had helped me scrub the insides after a freezer malfunction.

  Everyone was behind me.

  It was the only thing that had kept me sane after I’d found out I was pregnant. But now here was my other half of this baby-making craziness. I didn’t want to rely on him. Not again. Not anymore.

  I had more than enough people in my life. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Of course you don’t. Doesn’t mean I won’t be giving it. No matter what you want.”

  I stalked toward the door. “This is my truck. What I say goes.”

  He took a step closer, but didn’t come up the stairs yet. Our gazes met, and I glimpsed all the different shades of blue in his eyes. All the pieces of him that I’d just started memorizing before he left.

  Again.

  I had to remember that part.

  He always left.

  But at least he could help me paint in this blasted heat.

  “Suit yourself.” I toed the paint can tucked under the small seat just inside the door. “Touch up all the royal blue paint inside the truck.”

  He came up the stairs. I moved back immediately as he peered around the truck. “That’s a lot of blue.”

  “Can’t handle it?”

  “Got another one of those hats?”

  I opened a cabinet under the customer window and took out the rainbow cap with my new logo on it. “Sure do.”

  He paused ever so slightly, then took the hat and set it on his head backwards. “Where are the paintbrushes?”

  I expected him to balk. Moreover, I figured he’d be a crap painter. I wasn’t sure he’d ever picked up a paintbrush in his life.

  I was very wrong. He was meticulous and methodical. He even asked me if he could add a white pinstripe around the cupboards. He used my chalkboard paint on the inside of the door to keep track of supplies.

  When he was done with that, he disappeared. I figured that would be the last of him. Nope. He came back with a light lunch that wouldn’t be too heavy in the heat and a large reusable cup full of lemonade.

  And he didn’t say a word.

  The longer he worked, the harder it was to stay mad at him.