by Ella Fields
“Enough. I need to go,” I said, finally realizing we weren’t alone. Some passersby had stopped or were gawking over their shoulders at us.
“Wait,” he said, rounding the car when I climbed inside.
I groaned as he held the door open, leaning in. “Please, Everett. Just let me go.”
“Never.” He grabbed my face, pulling it to his lips. The smooth warmth of them meeting my forehead sent shivers biting. “Never. It’s you and me, and I love you.”
He swiped his hand over my stomach before backing out and closing the door.
The weeks dwindled by, and on the days I was working, Everett dropped off lunch or dinner, causing Gloria’s and Sabrina’s brows to rise as he swaggered out the door without saying a word.
“Strange man,” Sabrina murmured.
“But sweet,” Gloria added.
A week before Thanksgiving, I came home to find Adela wearing a shit-eating grin on her face.
I wasn’t driving home for Thanksgiving. Too pregnant and with too much to do, I’d asked Mom and Dad to come to me instead. Hendrix and the band were busy wrapping the album in the studio anyway, so Mom took the opportunity to not wash dishes pretty well.
“Where did that come from?” I glared at the stained crib sitting against the wall in the center of the room, a mattress tucked inside.
“Everett.”
I almost tripped over the alligator rug, and Adela snorted, grabbing my arm. “No face planting while preggers.”
“Noted.” Inching closer, I skimmed my fingers across the shined edge of the dark wood. “Wow.”
“Yep. And before you get mad, I told him no, but he said he’d assemble it out on the street for all he cared.”
I bit my lip to keep from smiling. “Asshole,” I mumbled.
“Extreme asshole.” Adela laughed.
I tried to picture it, our baby asleep inside the crib his dad had built for him. It nearly brought me to my knees, so I stepped back, taking a seat in the rocking chair I’d found at the thrift store.
“You don’t look happy.”
“I’m not unhappy,” I defended, drawing the words out.
Adela picked up the snow globe on the dresser, shaking it until the confetti-like pieces rained mists of white glitter over the little village inside.
I’d lost count of how many times I’d sat in this room late at night, doing the same thing with the globe, exactly where I was sitting.
“A state of in between, then.” Her pouty lips tilted. “Better than sad. Where’s Aiden?”
He hadn’t been around for weeks, but that was probably my fault.
“He’s gone home for the holidays. He said he’d try to catch up with me in the new year.”
Adela said nothing to that, and I studied her pinched expression. “He’s blowing me off, isn’t he?” I’d feared that was the case, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it. The thought of not having him in my life was unfathomable, though it wasn’t as if I’d asked him to hang around. “I’m pregnant, Del. What am I supposed to do? Ask him to be with me while I have this baby?”
“I’m sure he would say yes if you did.”
I knew that, and that was what had stopped me. It wasn’t fair, not for him, not for Everett. Not for anyone. “I’m having this kid, getting my flower farm, and raising him with the help of a hundred goats.”
She laughed, then sobered. “So Everett seems really good. His face as he looked at all this stuff…” she trailed off, and I wished I could’ve seen it. “No one told him he was having a little boy.”
“Shit,” I hissed, my eyes closing briefly.
Adela hummed, tapping the glass globe.
I groaned, scrubbing my hands over my cheeks. “What the hell am I supposed to do here?”
“You mean, who are you supposed to pick?”
“I can’t do that,” I blurted without thinking. “I’ve been just fine on my own anyway.”
Adela set the snow globe down beside the framed photo of me and her. “Let’s face it, Stevie. Yes, you’re not with either of them because it’s what you need right now. But it’s also because you know…” Her brow arched. “You know if you give one of them another chance, this is it. You kiss goodbye to one love for another.”
My stomach dipped and tears burned. “Why do you need to be so right for?”
Her laughter was soft and lacking humor as she left me with everything I’d been trying to ignore.
“Where’s your boyfriend?”
I looked over at the doorway, capping my highlighter. “How’d you get in?”
“Answer my question, and I might answer yours.”
I scowled, and leaning against the doorframe, Everett flashed a small glimpse of his teeth.
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
His tongue crept over his upper lip, eyes narrowing. “We’ve danced this dance before.”
I contained a snort, bookmarked my page, and shut the textbook. “Except this time, I’ll be dancing on my own.” I gave my eyes to his. “Answer my question.”
“Adela told me where you keep the spare key.”
“Traitor,” I spat.
“You’re carrying my son; I need to know I can get to you in case of an emergency.”
“The only emergency you need to worry about is my inability to hold liquids in my body for longer than twenty minutes.” I cringed, swinging my legs over the bed. “So kindly get lost while I take care of business.”
He was in front of me in an instant, an arm around my back, and his other sweeping under my knees, lifting me into the air. “Holy shit, put me down.”
He didn’t. He carried me to the bathroom, where he set me down carefully, then backed out.
After shaking off the shock, I did my business, washed my hands, and returned to find the room empty.
He was in the nursery. “You didn’t tell me we’re having a boy.”
“Correction, I hadn’t gotten around to it, and then you found out yourself by sneaking in.”
He was eyeing the crib. “Do you like it?”
I sighed, leaning into the doorframe. “I love it, but you didn’t need to—”
“You should sit down.” His gaze assessed me. “God damn, how on earth did I get so lucky?” I didn’t think he’d meant to say the muttered words aloud.
Damn him and those green eyes that conveyed such stark sincerity, speaking clearer than words ever could. I sniffed, doing my best to ignore how he affected me. “You got lucky a few times, but now your luck has run out.” I tried not to waddle as I moved over to the rocking chair and failed.
“If you say so.” His eyes were glued to my stomach, longing, adoration, and something else making my tired heart want to leap into his hands.
Annoyance surged. The way he could still make me feel like I’d fallen for the first time every time he looked at me—like he was at that moment—wasn’t fair.
“What do you want from me, Everett? Because every time I think I’ve figured it out and that you’ll be happy, that maybe you’ll stay this time, I turn around and you’re gone again.”
A dry laugh filled the small room. “I don’t think you’re ready for this conversation right now.”
“What, because I’m pregnant?” I scoffed. “I’ve survived everything else you’ve put me through; I can handle a few measly words.”
“Fine.” With his jaw clenching, he slammed a fist on his chest, shocking me. “What I want is for you to fight for me the same way I’ve fought with everything I have for you. I want you to believe in me the same way you used to when we were kids. But more than that, I just want you to acknowledge that I’m trying. Every. Fucking. Day. I’m trying to be the best version of me that I can. Not just for you. Not just for our baby. But for me.”
My feet, that’d been gently rocking me in the chair, stopped as his declaration—the pain and desperation that leeched from it—electrified every part of me.
He sighed, a hand plunging into his hair as defeat weighed heavy fro
m his limbs. “I’ve gotta go.”
I hated myself for saying it, but I couldn’t stop. It was as if I was standing on the edge of my emotions, looking down into a swirling black abyss. “It gets hard and you leave. Typical.”
He paused in the doorway, his back rigid beneath a green Henley. “Got an appointment with a therapist I’m seeing.”
“Oh.” Guilt slammed into every nerve ending, stiffening and rendering me breathless.
He hesitated a moment, rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, then disappeared.
The sun dipped below the horizon, sending shadows swaying on the walls before I finally wiped away the tears, made a sandwich, and ran a bath.
Steam clouded the air, my eyes tracing its billowing path to the ceiling while my toe reached for the faucet, turning it off.
“They say it’s not so great to sit in a hot bath while you’re pregnant.” His voice startled me, water splashing as I scrambled to cover myself. “I’ve adored, licked, sucked, rubbed, pinched, and dreamed about those tits. Hide if you want, but it’s a wasted effort.”
Heat painted me pinker than the water, and I folded my arms over my chest. It was covered in water and leftover bubbles, but still. “You haven’t seen them like this.” I hated how insecure I sounded, yet I wanted to smear the salt on a little harder. “They’ve changed.” I cleared the edge in my throat. “A lot.”
When Everett didn’t respond, I let my eyes meet his, and what I found there, the longing and heat, caused my thighs to clench. “You’re carrying my child, any change that causes would be nothing short of breathtaking.”
Fuck him and his way with words.
I turned away, my feet sliding over the lip of the tub as I sank lower into the water. “You’re back.”
“Evidently.” His smile could be heard in his voice, and I clamped my teeth together.
“Your appointment went well?”
“About as well as those things can go.” He sighed, and my eyes bulged, stomach flipping, when he entered the room and took a seat beside the tub.
“Don’t worry about my privacy or anything, will you.”
“You left the door open, and like I said”—he lifted a muscled arm, finger skimming the water—“it’s not good to take hot baths while you’re pregnant.”
“A girl needs to have some form of relaxation while carrying a squirming human around every day.” His smirk drew my gaze. “Besides, it’s not that hot.”
“I know.”
“Since when did you become an expert on pregnancy anyway?”
He leaned back against the wall, rubbing his wet fingers together between his jean-clad knees, still staring at me. “I had some free time in rehab and wanted to use it wisely. You also need to quit eating those fish sticks.”
I tossed my head to the side. “Oh, come on.”
“I’ll find you a sufficient alternative.”
My brows shot up. “You will, will you?”
“Yep. I’ve got a meeting with Jack tomorrow, but I’m heading to the grocery store afterward. Sick of the microwaved bullshit Graham eats.”
I wanted to ask about Jack, about why they were still talking when Everett was no longer part of the band. I wanted to ask why he was here, pushing all my buttons. I wanted to ask so many things, yet I didn’t. “You used to eat that microwaved bullshit all the time when you stayed at the bar.”
“That was before I got used to three cooked meals a day.”
“How’d you pay for it?”
“Rehab?” I nodded, and he dropped his eyes to the green tiled floor. “Jack. I paid back half of my advance. When I left the facility, I went to set up one of their payment plans, only to find out the sneaky bastard had already taken care of it.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. “What kind of label executive does that?”
Everett shook his head, a small laugh escaping. “That’s exactly what I said. I owe him, so we’re meeting to talk about some things.”
“You’re going solo?”
“No,” he said, stern and instant, then scratched at the whiskered shadows lining his jaw. “I think he wants to buy more songs. Have me write for some of his artists.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed out, forgetting for just a moment how upset he’d made me as happiness, bright and overpowering, bloomed for him.
I saw him try to tame his disbelief, the smile, but he lost the battle. It transformed his face, lightened his eyes, loosened his shoulders, and had him shaking his head again. “Yeah, but we’ll see.”
The baby stole my smile and my breath, elbowing or kneeing me in the ribs.
Everett was right there when I opened my eyes, his own filled with concern.
“It’s okay. He’s just moving.”
“Is it supposed to hurt?” The fear in his voice melted some of the ice encasing my heart.
“No, it doesn’t hurt. But it can get uncomfortable as hell sometimes.”
He reached for the water, then stopped himself. His eyes, loaded with a silent plea, locked with mine.
I nodded, exhaling slowly as his fingers breached the surface and whispered across my stomach.
“Jesus, Clover,” he rasped, his hand gliding over the taut skin, following the baby’s movements. A limb protruded, and his eyes grew two sizes, stealing a laugh from me. “That’s insane.”
I shifted in the tub. “He doesn’t seem to want to quit, especially when I’m trying to relax.”
“He’s a tiny dancer.” A soft smile lifted Everett’s lips, his attention fixated on my stomach. “How is it possible to love someone you’ve never even met?”
Something clogged my throat, quaking my response. “I know.”
“Hey, little buddy,” he crooned, some of his long hair falling to curtain his face. I wanted to push it back, to see every slice of emotion that harnessed his features. “You need to settle down.”
He was met with a kick, and I laughed.
My laughter broke when Everett started humming a slow melody, voice rough and jilted from disuse. His hand rubbed and lulled me into a state of relaxation. The kind I hadn’t felt since before he’d left.
I never wanted the sun,
I only needed a little warmth
And you said oh, darling,
You live in a world where you can have both…
Silent tears flowed as he sang. There was no way to stop them, so I didn’t. I let them tumble. And then I let Everett help me out of the tub, wrap me in a towel, and scoop me up.
Lowering to the floor, he didn’t try to placate me.
With his arms tight around me, unyielding, I fisted his shirt and sobbed into the skin below his neck.
I hauled my bag out to the car and into the trunk, rearranging gift bags full of presents. It was too awkward, so I hadn’t bothered with wrapping this year, but I doubted anyone would care.
“Shit,” I hissed when I remembered I’d forgotten my heartburn medication.
I spun smack into Everett’s chest. “Looking for these?”
I snatched the bottle from him and tucked it in the side pocket of my overnight bag before shutting the trunk.
He stopped me, gently moving me aside to find a spot for his own bag. “What are you doing?”
“Were you just going to head home and not have me go with you?” He closed the trunk, brows raised.
“Well, yeah.” I’d figured if he was joining us for Christmas, he’d grab a ride with Hendrix or someone. “And how’d you get my pills?”
“I’ve seen you take one after dinner whenever I’m here, so I got you some more.”
He’d been coming by at least four nights a week to cook. After the third time, I gave up trying to send him away. He could cook, and I couldn’t handle being on my feet for long after three in the afternoon. Adela was all for it, the traitor, and even made remarks about stealing him from me.
Everett didn’t seem to care when I said there was nothing to steal. Nothing seemed capable of swaying him and his overbearing presence.
> Almost every day, he continued to insert himself in front of me. Part of me wondered if it was merely because I was carrying his baby, or because he was trying to make up for the way he’d continuously damaged me. Either way, I didn’t have the energy to overthink much these days and often passed out with my computer right after dinner.
“Thank you.” I backed up, then went to lock up before climbing in the car.
Of course, he was in the driver’s seat, but I wasn’t going to protest when it was getting harder to maneuver the watermelon that was my stomach behind the steering wheel.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Huge, tired, and eternally hungry.” My grumbling made him smile, which he failed to hide.
My nose twitched as I caught a whiff of his clean scent and the undertones of tobacco. He still smoked but was careful not to do so around me anymore.
“One more month,” he reminded me.
My cheeks vibrated as I blew out a huge breath and rubbed my bulge. “It’s going too fast, but at the same time, I can’t wait to have my body back.”
“You still doing the birthing classes?”
Adela had told him when he’d asked over dinner the week before last. “Yeah, but I missed the last one. Had to study.”
“You’re going to do great.”
I wished I had his confidence. But there were only two ways out of this situation. My vagina or a knife. And quite frankly, I didn’t like the thought of either.
I was tempted to ask him where he’d been yesterday and the day before, on account of not seeing him at all. But sounding needy was the last thing I wanted, especially when I didn’t want to need him.
It was an ever-present, maddening ache; loving two men and not being with either of them. Aiden hadn’t called in weeks, and though I’d texted him this morning to wish him a Merry Christmas, he never responded.
As if knowing where my thoughts had veered, Everett’s hands tightened around the wheel.
“How’re things going with Jack?”
“Good,” he clipped, then sighed through his nose. “I’ve got three contracts already lined up, and I started back at the hardware store last week. Just part-time to help until the money comes through.”
