Once Upon A Half-Time: A Secret Baby Romance (39 page)

“It’s important.”

“Not as important as this.”

I gasped as his hardness pressed against my core. The slickness should have shamed me, but we were beyond embarrassment or surprise at our reaction for the other.

I wanted him. He wanted me.

And maybe I should have thought only of that moment.

Just of me and him.

Together
.

He thrust inside me, and my delighted cry echoed with his determined grunt. The strength of his body ached me with such a perfect and wonderful power, something that built and swayed and controlled me with the demands of his movement.

It was a bad idea to let him get this close. Every thrust heated me beyond control, and every wave of pleasure teased me with the thought of more than just this short time with him.

I envisioned a dozen moments leading to a handful of days then a span of weeks and finally the joy that could be the rest of our lives.

I don’t know when it happened, but my feelings for him grew until they were no longer a simple crush. Every time I welcomed him deep within me, my addiction to him strengthened. He was the wrong man who might have given me the right things. I couldn’t risk losing his touch, his kiss, this amazingly
full
feeling.

So I didn’t think of the future. Nothing of the baby or the wedding or even what I’d say after I gave myself to him again.

I welcomed the simplicity and wove myself deeper into the knot I cast.

And I wondered if I’d ever be able to unravel it.

I
was pretty
certain I’d slept with the stripper.

We lived in a small town, and not many people escaped to the bigger cities. I couldn’t remember her name, but I recognized the tattoo. She had a tribal band inked over her bicep.

I’d liked it then. Now I wasn’t sure what I saw in her. The ink marred what should have been beautiful skin.

Now Mandy…she had beautiful skin. Smooth. Dark. Soft…

Too bad she wasn’t performing.

The stripper did her dance. The guys at the bar hooted.

Rick did his best to offer Bryce the same excitement Lindsey demanded from her bachelorette party, but Bryce refused the night out and opted for a couple drinks in my bar.

I wasn’t sure he tasted them. He had five beers before he said a single word, and he wasn’t too excited about the stripper. The guys thought she was pretty, and all women who glued tassels to their nipples had an entertaining quality about them, but Bryce wasn’t interested.

Then again, neither was I.

The stripper was once my type—fake and blonde—but she didn’t do it for me this time.

Son of a bitch, I knew why.

She wasn’t
Mandy
.

She didn’t have her curves. Didn’t share that innocent quirk in her smile. Didn’t have the gentle swell of her breasts.

She didn’t have her laugh. Her sense of humor. The tinkling little sing-song inflection to her words.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember fucking the stripper. Couldn’t.

All I pictured was Mandy, and it was a damn good memory. I remembered the first time I took her, I still fantasized about that night under the stars, and I relived those perfect hours on her couch when I forgot to breathe, to think, to do anything but stare in her eyes as we moved together in a perfect embrace.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I never liked it
gentle
before, and suddenly I was…making love?

Jesus, I needed to shotgun a couple beers too.

I broke out a new brew I’d saved specifically for the bachelor party. Bryce liked the darker ales, and I made a recipe in his honor. I raised the glass, and the dozen friends we invited to join the festivities readied for a toast.

I grinned. “Bryce, man, I just wanted to say—”

Bryce chugged his beer without waiting.

The fuck? If I knew he wasn’t going to taste it, I’d have fermented motor oil for his fucking party.

Rick shrugged. He held his glass towards his brother. “To…Bryce.”

Bryce was my best friend, and I wasn’t about to deny him getting drunk at his own party, but I pulled the pitcher away before he drank all of it and destroyed his liver three weeks before the wedding.

Rick passed him a glass as the stripper packed up her clothes. She blew Bryce a kiss. He didn’t react, just stared at the table and clutched his beer.

“Wish you hadn’t gotten a stripper,” Bryce finally said.

I smirked. “Isn’t it tradition?”

“You’re killing me.”

“Don’t tell me Lindsey forbade a stripper?”

“So what if she did?” Rick snorted. I didn’t like his tone. “I think a woman’s got a right to know where her man’s been, right, Nate?”

Jesus, whatever. I took a drink, but Rick didn’t break his stare with me. Bryce shook his head.

“It’s not that. I just didn’t want any…temptation.” He waved a hand. “No.
Inspiration
.”

Now he had me confused, which wasn’t too hard. I didn’t understand most of the bullshit Bryce put up with to please his bridezilla.

“Look…” Bryce lowered his voice. “Lindsey and I haven’t…you know…for about a month.”

There wasn’t enough beer in my bar to talk about our feelings. Rick and I both tensed. It was so much easier when we were kids and could just play Halo to pass the time.

“You haven’t had sex?” Rick cleared his throat.

“Yeah.”

Wasn’t that the point of having a committed relationship? I frowned. “Why?”

“Lindsey wants to try for kids
now
. She stopped taking her pill and is, um…
ready
.”

Rick and I eased away from the table. Bryce nodded.

“Yeah,” he said.

“So…” I drummed my fingers against my beer bottle. “Good?”

Bryce yelled, nearly tipping over the pitcher. “What do you mean
good
? For Christ’s sake, we aren’t even married yet! She’s planning what color to paint a nursery, and I’m still trying to figure out how to do a dance from a movie that came out
before we were born
.”

“You’re getting married,” I said. “So she wants kids? Have some kids.”

“Easy for you to say.” Rick snorted into his beer. “You’ve never had a relationship last long enough for the condom to dry out.”

Fuck, what was with all these people judging my sex life lately?

Rick was lucky he was tipsy. That fourth beer saved him from a serious discussion with my fucking fist.

“We’re not talking about me,” I said. “Bryce and Lindsey have been together since high school. I think it’s safe to say they’re in a place where kids
aren’t a problem.”

“Kids aren’t
the
problem.” Bryce finished his beer. Rick poured him another. He had earned it. “I don’t know. It’s overwhelming. First all this wedding stuff. We’re never going to make the money back we put in. Now she wants the kids and the house and…she’s got all these
plans
.”

I still didn’t see the problem. “You scored the girl of your dreams. She’s excited about marrying you. She wants to spend her life with you. What the hell is wrong with that?”

“Are you serious?” Bryce laughed. “
You’re
the one talking me into this shit? Christ, I thought you’d tell me to run.”

“Don’t you love Lindsey?”

“Well, fuck, yeah. But—”

“Then shut your damn mouth. You got a beautiful woman who wants nothing more than to be with you. She wants to buy a perfect house and pop out some kids. So, drink your beer, go home, fuck your fiancé, and live out your goddamned fairy tale.”

I slammed my glass on the table. Jesus. Life wasn’t this complicated. Why did everyone make it harder than it was? He had a girl who wanted him. He was fucking
lucky
.

Rick followed me to the bar. Both Washington brothers were acting shitty.

“Since when did you become the relationship guru?” Rick didn’t open the bottle I offered.

“Since everyone keeps asking me my opinion.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah. Apparently I’m some sort of sage now.” I arched an eyebrow. “Bet you wished you had listened about Jada when I told you she hit on me.”

Rick snorted. “I’m surprised you didn’t take her up on it like the other assholes who fucked my wife.”

“You really think I’d have done that to you?”

“I got no reason to doubt you when a girl is confused.”

“Jada wasn’t
confused
. She went grinding on any dick she could find.”

“I’m not talking about Jada.”

Who the hell
were
we talking about?

Christ. I knew where this was going, and I wasn’t discussing it with her best friend.

“Think carefully about what you’re going to say,” I said.

I figured a doctor would be smarter when confronting a man about his own business. Guessed not.

“I don’t want you hanging around Mandy,” Rick said. “You leave her alone.”

“Did you give Mandy this same talk?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well it didn’t work.”

Rick clenched his jaw. “She’s like a sister to me, and you’re like a second brother. But, if it comes down to it, she’s more vulnerable than you. I won’t let her get hurt.”

“Who said I’m going to hurt her?”

“You fucked her. You keep chasing her.”

“So?”

“You tell Bryce all those nice things—love the woman, get married, have the kids. That’s what Mandy wants too. If that’s not your game, then bow out before she gets hurt.”

“Mandy’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”

“She shouldn’t have to. You should know better than to prey on her.”

“
Prey
?”

“You’re not her type. She’s not your usual bimbo. Mandy deserves more than your selfish fucking.” Rick scowled. “Think beyond your cock for once. Ruin your own life, but don’t screw up hers.”

Rick returned to his brother, calling an Uber and forcing water down Bryce’s throat before he blacked out.

Think beyond my cock?

Right now I was thinking with my fists.

Fuck him.

If I wanted to chase Mandy, I’d do it. And I’d take her again and again because I knew what she liked and why she needed it more than some plan for the future.

Mandy shouldn’t have worried about relationships and commitments and marriages and all the shit that came with it. That girl was wound tighter now than the first time I fucked her, and the only way to calm her down was to fuck her into a puddle of pleasure.

Then fuck her some more.

And I’d be the one to do it.

I slammed the door to my office. So much for the party. Good thing I had work to do.

Beers tended to brew themselves once I had them in the storage tank, but I had yeast to grow, grains to mash, and orders to fill. The brewery was successful enough to employ two people plus my other bartender. They probably wanted to get paid this week.

Mandy had been right. I could have used an accountant. Maybe her dad didn’t pay her well and I could poach her for my business. Then I’d have her all to myself every day.

My email
dinged
. I checked the laptop.

It was news—but I didn’t know if the email was good or bad.

N
ate
,

The property in Santa Barbara has a lot of viewings this week. You better tour it soon if you want to put in an offer. It’s really the perfect spot for you, and I think we can win over the owners if they see your proposal—they’d definitely like the property in the hands of a small business. Let me know.

Angela

I
didn’t hesitate
. I called my realtor, but I was bounced to her voice mail.

“Angela, this week is no good. My best friend is getting married, and I gotta help with the wedding. Just…let this property go. There’s plenty of other places to check.”

I ended the call and felt sick.

What the fuck did I just do?

I wasn’t staying in town to help with the wedding or the preparations.

And I
knew
that property was the single greatest thing that might have happened to my brewery if I wanted to expand and head out west. I had tasted freedom, and it had a good, hoppy bite to it. But now something soured it.

A nagging, restless itch settled in the pit of my stomach. For twenty-eight years, I’d wanted to get the hell out of my hometown, make a name for myself beyond my family, and just fuck my way to happiness.

Now?

Only one thing kept me from packing a bag and setting down somewhere new with all the fun and prosperity it’d offer.

The only thing I wanted more than the life I had was the one I never thought I’d need.

I wanted Mandy, and that bullshit revelation knocked me onto my ass.

I headed back to the bar and grabbed a fresh beer. Chugged it. Opened another.

I drank until I got drunk, passed out on the couch in my office, and welcomed the black.

And, goddamn it—

I dreamt of Mandy.

I
thought
nothing could be worse than walking in on Mom mid-coitus.

I was wrong.

I attempted to suppress that particularly traumatic memory, but I’d forgotten one very important person affected by my…discovery.

Dad
.

Monday morning was a tightrope walk of phone acrobatics, tricks at the copier, and a lunchtime trip for the office to the busiest restaurant on the block. With a dedicated effort, I managed to avoid any one-on-one time with Dad through lunch. I lasted until that sticky, slow part of a workday afternoon where everyone gave up at three o’clock and migrated to the candy box.

Then he called me to his office.

What was I supposed to say to him? Anything about Mom would crush his heart as thoroughly as she crushed Marcus Washington’s legs.

And there were those thoughts again, swirling in my head. If nothing else, Mom’s scandal did give me something to worry about that wasn’t Nate and the baby. Good on her for always knowing when to butt into my thoughts.

Oh, I really, really didn’t want to think about her butt now too.

Dad gestured for me to sit, and he nudged his garbage can and the bag of chips under his desk. Great. Junk food twice in a day. He’d be a block of salt by the time he got home, and now Mom wasn’t there to make sure his dinner was a salad instead of a log of pepperoni and a handful of olives.

“Mandy…” Dad drummed his fingers against the desk—the same nervous rhythm I patted on my thighs. “Look, I think we need to talk about what happened this weekend.”

I bit my lip. “I’m not really the one to talk about this—”

“Of course you are. And I know it puts you in a very awkward position.”

I figured Mr. Washington was the one in the uncomfortable position, but I wasn’t saying a damn thing. “I don’t think it’s my place to say anything—”

“I don’t want you to be mad at your momma.”

I looked up. Dad rubbed his bald head with a sigh.

“But she—”

Dad nodded. “I know. It was inappropriate, and it caused quite the scene. But, you’re young. You understand. Sometimes people make mistakes in the…heat of the moment.”

Yeah, but my mistake created a life, it didn’t ruin a marriage.

“I thought you’d be more…upset?” I said.

“You know I love your Momma. We have our issues, but it’s nothing that can’t be worked out.”

“That’s very…optimistic.”

“Well, she’s worth that fight, Mandy.”

“But what about the…Washingtons?”

Dad waved a dismissive hand. “They’ll get over it. It was a momentary embarrassment.”

Wow. He was
really
optimistic. And maybe a little naïve? Nate was right. It was best to let them figure it all out.

“So, now that’s settled,” Dad said. “You don’t have to worry about anything. Your mom and I have an understanding, and it won’t divert any attention from your sister’s wedding.”

Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure, but he sounded confident. “Good. We don’t want any distractions.”

Like me and Nate.

Or the baby.

“You okay?” Dad asked. “Something’s bothering you.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Aw, come on. You can’t hide anything from your dad. Remember that time I found the mid-term report you hid under the bed? The C in math?”

“Dad, I was eleven.”

“And I knew then, just like I know now.” He crossed his arms. “Spit it out, Mandy-Pandy.”

Oh God. Wasn’t talking about Mom’s sex life bad enough?

I heaved a breath, meeting my father’s gaze for what had to be the first time since I found out I was pregnant. Somehow, Dad could make me feel like I was a kid again, in trouble for breaking the glass face on Mom’s grandfather clock.

But this time, the trouble was
worse
.

I hadn’t told Mom I was pregnant yet, partly because I knew how she’d react. She’d yell. Compare me to her
engaged
daughter. Fret and scream and blame herself all to get me to console
her
. I could handle that, I had all my life.

But Dad?

We were always the closest. I didn’t want to hurt him.

The last thing I wanted in this world was to disappoint my father.

“It’s kinda complicated…” I should have spilled it then. The words caught in my throat.

“Boy trouble?” Dad winked. “Well, I guess man trouble.”

Sure. That was easier to talk about. “I guess so.”

“Found a guy you like?” Dad’s eyes narrowed. “Is he treating you good?”

“It’s not that. It’s a…possibility that will never, ever happen.” I bit my lip. “Did you always want to marry Mom?”

“God no. Have you met your mother?”

“Then…why?”

“Because she was the one I thought about when I went to bed at night, and she was the first person I wanted to see in the morning. Nothing more to it than that. I asked her to marry me, and she refused. Twice. But when it’s right, it’s right.”

“Is that all it takes?”

Dad laughed. “No way. Learn from my mistakes, Mandy. If I knew ten, fifteen, or twenty years ago how to take care of my relationship and put the ego and pettiness aside? Well, your mom wouldn’t be hiding in country clubs getting booty calls, would she?”

Shudder.

He smiled at me. “You are a beautiful young woman, and men will chase you. The key is to find the one you can’t live without—and then you protect that relationship, because it is as fragile as it is precious.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime.”

I checked my phone. Lindsey demanded I leave the office before closing to help with the decorations, but my mind wasn’t on her chosen craft for the night. Dad had made sense. He always did, but this time he’d made more.

I woke up this morning dreaming of Nate, and it wasn’t a fear about the pregnancy or panic about telling him. It was a vision of us, snuggling, together.

That was worth protecting.

I stopped on the way home to grab our pizza, though I couldn’t eat the greasy, sloppy mess. I’d ordered a Hawaiian specifically for the pineapple to eat, but Lindsey was onto me. She knew I hated her favorite type of pie.

“You’re
not
getting out of arts and crafts.” Lindsey took her dinner with a suspicious glance. “Don’t even try it.”

“Just wanted to be nice.”

She waved a pair of scissors at me, but we had two dozen paper bouquets to make. Every Pinterest page had different instructions for the flowers, and she didn’t have time to stop and nag. The project demanded all of her concentration, which was good. The pregnancy was bad for my mood swings, and even worse for hiding how I felt. My emotions weren’t on my sleeve anymore—they were tucked inside a glove I’d use to slap people who riled me up.

I managed to avoid her inquisition, but she still puttered around me as she nibbled on the pizza. She and Bryce stopped to eat. I kept trying to turn tissue paper into roses to avoid questions.

“Something’s different about you…” Lindsey said.

I folded the paper and made a cut. “I’m a little tired of paper crafts.”

“No, it’s not that. You’re…more…” She snapped her fingers at Bryce. “What’s the word I want?”

Bryce didn’t respond well to a Prescott woman’s glare. He knew better than to cross me.

“She looks fine,” he said.

“No, there’s something.” Lindsey tapped her chin with her ring finger. “You’re
calmer
.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked. The scissors didn’t work. I reached for the X-Acto knife to properly frill the leaves.

“It’s not
you
. You’ve been super crazy these past couple weeks.”

I arched an eyebrow. Lindsey huffed.

“Okay,” she said. “I know
some
of it is my fault.”

I smirked. “Some.”

“Still…” Lindsey leaned close. “Something’s different…”

I trimmed a bit of the tissue paper from the blossom of the flower. It wasn’t the prettiest, but tucked into a bouquet, it’d look very fluffy and pink.

Lindsey’s voice echoed through the house. “Oh, my god.
You had sex
!”

I flinched. The X-Acto knife sliced my palm.

We all screamed, though neither of us as shrill as Bryce.

I leapt to my feet as the blood dripped
everywhere
. Crimson droplets stained three of our premade flowers and
all
the white tissue paper. Lindsey howled like
she
had been cut, and Mom raced in from the kitchen, covered in flour.

“Who had sex?” She pointed at me with a finger coated in chocolate chip cookie dough. “Mandy, I
told
you. Ain’t nothing unnatural about your momma getting some. It’s how you got here, sweet thing, and I don’t see you complaining—”

“Mom,
move
!”

I pushed past her to the kitchen, dripping the entire way. Lindsey hurried after me and tossed me a clean tea-towel to sop up the blood. Mom lingered behind, fanning Bryce with her apron.

“Lord, have mercy,” Mom said. “Mandy, are you that much of a klutz? What happened? Why are you bleeding all over my floors?”

I’d have to apologize later for the inconvenience of my laceration. I leaned over the sink, but rinsing the wound made it bleed harder. It wasn’t a small cut, sliced right through the sensitive skin between my thumb and forefinger. I wrapped it tight in the towel.

Lindsey poked at me. “Does it hurt?”

“Ow! Stop!”

“That’s pretty deep.” She made a face. “You might need stitches.”

Mom padded across the kitchen and yanked on my hand. She looked at the cut and
hmphed
. “Sure, she can go to the hospital…and waste her money. Not like her Daddy gives her good health insurance at that hand-me-down job of hers.”

Lindsey stomped her foot. “Well, I can’t have a bridesmaid with a giant bandage on her hand for pictures! Or worse…an oozing, festering, puss-filled wound! We can’t Photoshop staph infections out of the photos, Mom!”

That did it. Now I felt woozy. I clutched the sink and swallowed, hard. If I got sick, at least no one would blame me. I did love the free excuses.

I pointed to Bryce. “Rick’s working tonight. We’ll go to the hospital. He can patch me up.”

Bryce refused to look at me, blocking me out of his vision with his raised palm. “I’ll give you a lift to the ER. Just…cover that up.”

Lindsey busted into gear, grabbing my purse and pushing me out the door. She paged Rick, but when he called to ask about the emergency, she grabbed the phone from me and hysterically screamed for help.

Rick knew better. He texted me on the sly. I one-handedly told him I was fine, but if he wanted to meet us in the ER, I’d love to have someone relatively competent in my corner.

We got to the hospital, but Bryce couldn’t leave the air-conditioned car for fear of a complete panic attack. I thanked him as Lindsey hauled me inside the ER, screaming to any nurse who would listen about her destroyed paper flower bouquets and the maid-of-honor nearly slicing a finger off. At least she got us into a room pretty quick.

Rick found us after only a couple of minutes. He immediately ordered Lindsey to sit down and shut up—in the way only a lifelong friend could tame the beast. He patted the bed for me. I hopped up, and his eyebrow arched.

“Good thing it’s slow tonight.” He stuck the blood pressure cuff on me and shook his head. “Linds, are you demanding blood tributes from your bridesmaids?”

“For your
information
.” Lindsey pouted in the chair. “This accident is going to cost us the
whole night
. I don’t have enough white tissue paper for the rest of the bouquets, and we’re way behind for the wedding preparations.”

Rick wasn’t listening. He looked at me. “Wow…how much blood did you lose? Your blood pressure is low. And your heart rate is a bit…high.”

Uh-oh
.

I shrugged and lied. “I must just be stressed.”

This was a problem I hadn’t thought about. Rick charted the numbers, and I kicked myself for being stupid enough to come to a hospital.

I had discovered I was pregnant before my missed period and confirming test. Lindsey forced her bridesmaids to wear Fitbits, and, like a total dork, I was the only one who liked the cool little device. At first I’d thought the readings were wrong or the result of a busted component, but troubleshooting forums detailed the common causes for altered vitals.

Early pregnancy raised a woman’s heart rate.

Whoops.

Rick tucked his stethoscope around his neck. He checked the wound, careful to keep the bloody rag far from his pristine coat.

“Bet people don’t normally bleed on your rounds,” I said.

“We generally try to prevent hearts from bleeding in the cath lab. This does look pretty nasty. We should do a couple stitches. Let me clean you up and get you sewed together. I’ll have someone write you a script for antibiotics.”

He wheeled a chair over and had a nurse help set out the supplies. Lindsey sighed and grabbed her phone. Rick pounded on the computer to enter my information.

“Birthday?” he asked.

My mouth dropped open. “You jerk.”

“Kidding.” He winked. “August…?”

“Don’t make me wipe blood on you.”

“Thirteenth. On any meds?”

“Nope.” I flinched. “Well, a vitamin.”

“One-a-day?”

Sure. That was close enough. The pre-natal vitamins
were
taken once a day. I nodded.

“I’ll whoop your butt if you’re taking drugs. Alcohol?”

“I wish.”

He chuckled. “Pregnant or thinking of becoming pregnant?”

He meant it as a joke, but I stiffened. The world faded in that instant, and I stared at my best friend. He probably deserved to hear the truth regardless of his medical degree or willingness to stitch me up.

But Lindsey was right behind me. The lights got too bright, and the blood and panic and truth twisted in my stomach.

I couldn’t lie.

Not this time.

Lindsey couldn’t see my lips moving from where she sat. I shook my head no.

But I mouthed the words I hadn’t admitted to anyone yet.

“
Yes
.”

Rick didn’t scream, throw a fit, or Hulk-smash and rip off his scrubs to murder Nate. His eyebrow twitched, but he nodded to Lindsey.