by JC Harroway
It’s possible you need to set the bar for “well” a little higher.
He wanted to chase her down, to try to talk her into telling him what put that haunted look on her face. It was more than not wanting children. Even as the words came out of her mouth, she looked conflicted, as if it wasn’t quite the full truth. She wanted kids. She wouldn’t have gone forward with the pregnancy otherwise.
Which meant there was something holding her back, some reason she thought she shouldn’t want kids.
He could call Lucy, but that meant letting her in on the fact that Becka was pregnant, and if Becka didn’t want her sister to know yet, it wasn’t his place to share that information. He’d threatened to, of course, but what had been said in anger and frustration before would be a betrayal of trust now. No, that wasn’t an option.
Not to mention, he wanted Becka to trust him enough to let him in and let them both get to know each other. He couldn’t do that if he kept fumbling shit so thoroughly.
Aaron weighed his options against the inherent risks that went with any path forward. It was possible that if he left things alone and maintained the course, she’d come to him again.
He couldn’t risk being wrong, though. The stakes were too damn high.
So he did the slightly less risky option and called his baby sister. Aaron had always been closest to Trish, partly because she never allowed him to take himself too seriously and partly because their age difference meant they were never competing quite the same way he and Mary did through their younger years.
That mattered, of course, but the reason he called her now instead of Mary was because at twenty-four she was the closest in age to Becka—and the closest in personality. Though Becka was all thorns and prickly edges and Trish was both softer and sweeter, they both harbored free spirits and avoiding being tied down. It was comfortable to be the older brother to that kind of personality. It was significantly less so to be having a child with someone like that.
The line rang several times before it clicked over. “Hey, Aaron. Is everything okay?”
He glanced at the clock and cursed himself. It was almost midnight—way too late for this to be a casual call. “Yeah, everything is okay. I just need some advice and didn’t think to check if it was too late to call.”
“My big brother asking me for advice? You’re right, that’s not remotely serious at all.” She laughed softly. “I’m awake, and you have me on the phone, so stop thinking about how you’re going to make some excuse and call me tomorrow.”
Since he’d been about to do exactly that, he gave a rueful grin. “How are you?”
She sighed. “I’m fine. Just as fine as I was a couple weeks ago when we talked, though I’m about to start chewing through the wall if I don’t get out of this house soon. I love Mom and Dad, and they’re trying to be supportive and not push me, but it’s driving all of us crazy.”
Trish had moved back home after college until she could find a job and it...hadn’t gone particularly well. He made a sympathetic noise. “Well, I have some news that will get you out of the doghouse as least favorite child.”
“That sounds like trouble.” She lowered her voice. “Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not, but it will be.” He had to believe that. He couldn’t allow for any other outcome. Aaron had half a second to wonder if this call was a mistake, but he had gone too far to change his mind now. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Trish. There’s this woman, and we connected, but she won’t give me the time of day and...” She’s going to have my child.
She laughed. “Oh, Aaron. She’s got you twisted in knots, hasn’t she? You already tried to plan your way out of this and it blew up in your face.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How’d you know?”
“Because you’re our fearless leader. You attack every single problem the exact way—as if you’re going into battle. Which is great, and useful, and the reason that you’re as professionally successful as you are now.” Another laugh. “But you can’t date like that, Aaron. I mean, you can, but if you’re calling me, that means she’s independent and isn’t going to respond well to that sort of thing.”
Aaron started piling plates in the sink. “Everything I do pisses her off.”
“Hmm. Have you tried listening?”
“She doesn’t want to talk.”
“Because you make it into an interrogation when you aren’t paying attention. Figure out what she likes. Do that. See if you relaxing doesn’t relax her a little bit.” A hesitation. “Though if she’s fighting you this hard, maybe it’s time to write the whole thing off? Some walls aren’t worth beating your head against.”
“This one is.” He forced a smile into his voice. “Thanks, Trish. You should come down to the city to visit soon.”
“Sure thing. Just as soon as I figure out the rest of my life. Love you, big brother.”
“Love you, too.” He hung up the phone and went to work on the dishes. His sister’s advice wasn’t necessarily groundbreaking, but she had a good point. He’d approached this from the baby standpoint, because the baby was the only thing they appeared to have in common.
Well, the baby and the sex.
Aaron shook his head and scrubbed harder at the pan. If he wanted to pave the way to a future with Becka and the baby, he needed to know Becka.
He stopped.
Was that what he wanted? Both of them? Because that was a different scenario than simply being a father. He just had to be able to be cordial with Becka in order to do that, and they’d both go on with their separate lives. It was the simplest solution for a child born of a one-night stand.
And yet.
He thought about the vivid woman who’d caught his eye in the first place, the determined one who’d faced him down time and again over the future, and the bowed shoulders she’d worn tonight when she walked back to her room alone. Complicated did not begin to cover Becka Baudin.
There was nothing wrong with complicated, though.
Aaron finished the dishes and dried the pan, still thinking. He just needed to figure out what common ground they had and work from there. It was entirely possible that they had nothing in common and this was all a lost cause, but he wasn’t prepared to believe that. There was something there. Aaron just needed to figure out what it was.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AARON WAS GONE by the time Becka crawled out of bed the next morning. She tried to tell herself that it was for the best, that she didn’t really need to see him every single morning before they both left for their respective jobs, but the truth was that she’d gotten used to their shared silence as they drank their daily cup of coffee in the kitchen. He never seemed to feel like he needed to fill the silence. It was nice.
She opened the fridge and stared. Three plates sat on the shelf at eye level, each with a yellow sticky note attached. Peanut butter and grape jelly. Peanut butter and strawberry jam. Peanut butter and sliced bananas. Becka smiled, shook her head and grabbed the peanut butter and banana sandwich. She turned to the coffeemaker and found another sticky note. Still smiling, she read his chicken-scratch handwriting. Have dinner with me tonight. No baby talk, promise.
“How can I resist an offer like that?” She checked the time and typed out a quick text promising to be home by six.
The day flew by. She had spin at nine, TRX at eleven. The first two classes were at Transcend.
After TRX, she got cleaned up and changed then headed to the elite gym where she coached. Half her clients were looking for weight loss, and the other half were hard-core training for various events. All four of her sessions that afternoon were of the extreme variety. She normally liked to switch up her schedule a little more—the intensity could wear on her after a while—but today she welcomed the requirement of extra concentration.
Anything to keep her from watching the clock and
counting down the hours until dinner tonight.
She probably shouldn’t have agreed to go. It wouldn’t end well, and the whole point of this exercise was to create a stable foundation between her and Aaron so that the baby wouldn’t suffer. Dates were not part of the equation.
Still, she didn’t linger at the gym like she usually did after work. Becka took a cab back to Aaron’s apartment and, after arguing with herself for a solid five minutes, jumped in the shower and started her beautifying process. She didn’t have to pull out all the stops for dinner—it would look weird if she did—but that didn’t mean she had to go in fitness wear and without makeup.
Compromise. Jeans. Nice shirt. Decent makeup but not over the top. Blow out your hair.
She wasn’t overthinking this. She was just being reasonable.
I’m totally overthinking this.
Despite being out of practice, she was nearly ready well before the time Aaron had given her, but she ran into a problem when she pulled on her jeans.
They wouldn’t button.
Becka stared down at the offending button and the gap between it. She knew she’d been putting on weight—that happened in a pregnancy—but she’d mostly stuck to leggings and workout pants, so she hadn’t put too much thought into what that meant for her wardrobe. “No jeans for me, apparently.” She wiggled out of them and considered her options. It was early enough in the fall that New York hadn’t gotten totally frigid, so a dress would have to do—preferably something stretchy.
Except she hadn’t packed any dresses, because why would she? The only thing she’d needed when she was bullied into agreeing to these living arrangements were her workout clothes and...that was it. She sat on her bed and dropped her head into her hands. This is not something to get emotional about. They’re just clothes. You can run back to your apartment and...
But there wasn’t time.
She pressed her lips together. Hard. She was overreacting, turning this into something bigger than it should be. Yes, she wanted to dress nice for whatever this date entailed, but there were workarounds that didn’t involve dresses or trying to jury-rig her jeans into place. Becka took a steadying breath and went through her clothes again, more slowly this time. She finally settled on a pair of black leggings and a lightweight tunic-length sweater in her favorite color of pink. It was a little more laid-back than she would have preferred, but it would work.
She’d just pulled the sweater over her head and smoothed it down her hips when the front door opened and Aaron called out. “I’m late, I know, I’m sorry. Give me fifteen minutes and we can go.” Footsteps sounded past her door, and a few seconds later his shower started.
It was all too easy to picture Aaron in the shower, tilting his head back beneath the spray, letting the water sluice down his body. Becka mentally traced the path the droplets would take. Down his chest, over his cut abs, to his cock...
Down, girl.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, Aaron walked out of his bedroom in a pair of slacks and a button-down that looked indistinguishable from what he wore to work every day. He took one look at her and frowned. “More low-key date, then.”
She didn’t really want to admit that she couldn’t fit into her pants anymore. It wasn’t that she thought Aaron would be an asshole about it—actually, the opposite—but knowing what little she did about him, he’d do something like drag her out shopping for clothes she couldn’t afford. And then insist on paying for said clothes, which was a nice gesture, but she couldn’t take a wardrobe in addition to everything else he was providing and... Becka studied her thick gray wool socks. “Ah—”
“Say no more.” He walked back into his room and reappeared a few minutes later in a pair of dark jeans that hugged his thighs and a cable-knit sweater. When Aaron caught her looking, he ran his hands over the deep green wool. “My mother is a knitter, so for every Christmas, we all get sweaters.” He made a face. “I don’t wear mine often, though. Mostly when I go home to visit during the winter months.”
His mother loved her children so much, she spent hours upon hours knitting them sweaters. It took Becka two tries to speak. “That’s really, really nice.” She studied the fit of the sweater—perfect—and how the coloring complemented Aaron’s features perfectly. “Green is your favorite color, isn’t it?”
“Guilty as charged.” He chuckled. “Though she tends to lean more toward grays, since they’re staple pieces, according to her.”
“She’s right.” The amount of thought and love that went into that gift blew Becka way. She knew good parents existed. Of course they did. They weren’t magical unicorns that subsisted on mere myth. But she’d never had cause to come across them. Growing up, most of her friends’ parents were divorced, and there was an aura of benign neglect that everyone just sort of dealt with. No harm, no foul. There were always kids in her groups of friends that did have the happy life everyone was told to want, with loving parents who didn’t forget birthdays and showed up for every extracurricular activity and always had dinner on the table around the same time every night. It just hurt too much to spend time in those households and have her face rubbed in everything she was missing.
She’d had Lucy, though, and Becka thanked her lucky stars every single damn day for that. Who knew where she would have ended up without her strong older sister plotting their course? Their parents being flakes never seemed to affect Lucy. She just adapted and moved on, never letting their dropping the ball get in the way of her goals and aspirations. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, she just managed her expectations, and after a while, the disappointment and rejection lost its sting.
Becka had never quite mastered that trick.
“Minx, what’s wrong? What did I say?”
She shook her head and swallowed past the burning in her throat. “It’s nothing. I’m just really glad the baby will have awesome grandparents like your parents.”
He narrowed his eyes but seemed to reconsider pressing her for more information. Aaron’s smile was only the slightest bit strained. “What sounds good for dinner?”
“Taco truck tacos.”
Now he was really looking at her like she’d grown a second head. “You know, from what I read, pregnancy is supposed to create strange cravings but peanut butter and taco truck tacos...” He shook his head and offered his arm. “I wouldn’t dream of standing between you and your desired food.”
“Smart man.” She gingerly placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, feeling a little ridiculous, but then they were moving and there was no more time for second-guessing. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Becka inhaled the crisp autumn air and sighed. “I love this city.”
“Are you originally from here?” Aaron studied the street and turned them left.
“Sort of. We were born down in Pennsylvania, but Lucy and I both grew up here. Not in this part of town, obviously, but in the city.” It felt good to stretch her legs, good to walk next to Aaron and talk as if the future wasn’t hanging in the balance.
Pretend there isn’t a pregnancy. Pretend this is a real first date that might have happened if you hadn’t run scared.
It sounded good in theory, but Becka didn’t make a habit of dating. Dating led to expectations and demands and compromises—usually involving her. And that was if she even bothered to get past the lackluster text conversations and unsolicited dick pics to actually go on a date in the first place.
No, things were easier when everyone’s boundaries were clearly defined, and she avoided anyone who might tempt her into changing her internal rules when it came to romance and love.
Until now.
There was no avoiding this.
They dodged a power-walking man on his phone, and she continued. “I know the American dream is supposed to be to raise your kid in a small town with some random field in the distance and a whole lot in the way of overalls, but I think it’s bullshit.
This city has a culture and life all its own, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t spent my formative years here.” It struck her that their child would be raised in the city. She pressed her hand to her stomach, staggered by the thought. “I sound preachy, don’t I?”
“I’d say passionate.” He smiled. “And small-town living isn’t for everyone. I might have grown up in one, but I happen to agree with you when it comes to the city.”
They walked for several more blocks while Becka chewed on that. She both wanted to know more about Aaron’s past and didn’t. This is dumb. Being jealous that he grew up in an unbroken home is the height of stupidity. She took a deep breath. “Tell me something no one knows about you.”
“I watch poker tournaments on TV.”
She shot him a look. “You’re joking. That’s like saying you watch NASCAR or golf.”
“I know.” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “It’s my deepest, darkest secret. I can’t get enough of that shit. Playing the odds and being able to see the entire table’s hand at once is addicting. Even while I’m telling myself I should turn it off, I get sucked in and can watch for hours.”
Becka could see it. His mind obviously ran analytical, and there were few games more analytical than poker. She frowned. “Why not blackjack?”
“Blackjack, you’re playing the odds. Poker, you’re playing the rest of the table. It’s a combination of playing the odds and reading the people you’re playing against that I love.”
“Remind me never to play strip poker with you,” she muttered.
His slow smile made her stomach flip. “Didn’t I tell you? That’s what we’re doing after dinner.”
* * *
Aaron meant the words to be a joke. He wanted to get to know Becka better, and though there were certain things playing poker with her would tell him, strip poker was sure to short-circuit his brain the same as every time they got naked together. But she licked her lips and flashed a grin and suddenly he was looking at the woman he met three months ago instead of the cagey one who’d been living with him for the last week.
