Protecting Fate (12 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Sara took another bite of quesadilla and sighed in bliss. “This day couldn’t get any better.”

“I’d find that more flattering if I didn’t think you were talking about the food.” Z leaned back against the bench they’d taken after getting their order.

She pretended to consider. “You were pretty good, too.”

He laughed. “Nice to know.”

It was like the last four weeks of separation had never happened. She’d wondered if things would be different or awkward when he came back, but it was just as comfortable as it’d been while they were locked away in the house. Maybe this really
would
work.

She took another bite, closing her eyes and fighting down a moan. God, when had taco truck tacos ever tasted this good? She didn’t even
like
food served out of a truck normally, but it had been hitting the spot in a major way the last few days.

“Sara.”

She opened her eyes, and frowned at the look on his face. Apparently he hadn’t forgotten his promise-slash-threat that they were going to have a talk when he got back. Part of her wanted to hold it off as long as possible, but it was coming whether she liked it not. “Yeah?”

“I want you. Not just stolen moments in exile, as you called it. I want the homecomings and dinners and all of it.”

Longing wrapped around her chest and squeezed. She took a sip of her soda “I thought we were taking it one day at a time.”
That
she could handle. But he sounded like he wanted…everything. Jumping from a stolen week to
everything
was just that—a massive jump. The first flutters of panic started in her stomach.

For a second, it looked like he’d argue, but Z finally sighed. “You’re right. We are.”

Thank God. “Okay. Good.” She took another bite, pretending things hadn’t taken a turn for the horribly awkward. But then there was nothing else to eat, and she was stuffed, so she couldn’t exactly order something else to hold off dealing with whatever the strange look on Z’s face meant. Might as well get it over with. “What are you thinking?”

“I was remembering our time in the pool.”

Her body heated as she was transported back to the feeling of him inside her, the chilly water a direct counterpoint to the heat that he roused better than any man she’d ever known. Just thinking about it was enough to have her shifting in her seat, and calculating how long it would take them to get back to her apartment. “That was pretty great.”

“It was.” He zeroed in on her face. “I have to ask, though… You’ve had your period?”

The feel-good fantasy disappeared in a puff of smoke. She glared. “What the hell kind of question is that? I told you I was on birth control.”

“I’m not doubting you.”

“Good. Because it’s like ninety nine percent—” Her words dried up, a strange buzzing starting in her ears. It had been a hell of a month. She’d come back to the city and hit the ground running, barely taking time to sleep and eat in between Uncle Rodger running her ragged. And she’d loved it, because it helped keep the ache of Z’s absence at bay. Sara cleared her suddenly dry throat. She’d never been one of those women who felt compelled to track her periods, but even she could do basic math. The last one she’d had was weeks before her exile—the only reason she remembered that was because she’d been furious it ruined her plans to go out with a gorgeous bartender she’d had her eye on.

Which meant she hadn’t had a period in well over seven weeks. “Oh God, this can’t be happening.”

If she’d thought Z had been focused before, it was nothing to how he looked at her now. “Tell me.”

She didn’t want to say it aloud. It was a silly, childish superstition—don’t talk about the bad thing, and maybe it will go away—but she couldn’t shake it. “It’s not possible.”

“
Sara
.”

“Look, women are late all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.”

The slow-dawning horror on his face didn’t make her feel the slightest bit better, despite the fact that it was an exact match for the unfolding feelings in her chest. “You’re pregnant.”

“
Shut up
. I am not.” The night air seemed determined to close in on her, so she slid off the bench and damn near ran for the street.
I’m not pregnant. I
can’t
be pregnant. Please, God, don’t let me be pregnant.

He caught up with her on the sidewalk and grabbed her arm, swinging her around to face him. “Talk to me.”

“I’m not pre—” She couldn’t even say the word, but she babbled on, reaching for something—anything—to prove this was all a bad dream. “I can’t be. I’m not sick. The last time I threw up was New Year’s Eve three years ago. I’m not napping or tired or
pregnant
.” She would have known if she was. Something would be drastically different if she was growing a life in her stomach. She pressed a hand there, finding it as flat as ever.

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“What?” He kept his grip on her arm, towing her down the street. She figured out his destination—the corner store—and dug in her heels. “No. Z, please, don’t.”

“If you are carrying my child, I damn well want to know.” Each word was clipped and fierce.

“Maybe it’s not yours.” He turned a fierce glare on her, and she wilted on the spot. “Okay, fine,
if
I were, then it’s
probably
yours.” In reality, it was definitely his. She’d never had unprotected sex before, never let herself get so carried away that she cared more about getting a man inside her than getting on a condom. Plus, she might not be awesome at math, but she could put two and two together. It had to be his.

“Stop talking.” With that, he dragged her through the door and down the aisle to the pregnancy tests.

…

Once they got back to her apartment, Z couldn’t sit still while he waited for Sara to get out of the bathroom. He’d damn near followed her in, but she’d flatly told him that she’d pee in front of him over her dead body. He made another turn and glared at the closed door. She’d been in there an awfully long time.

And she might be having his baby.

He could barely wrap his mind around it. Children had been something he wanted—
before
. Before Jennifer ripped out his heart. Before his life fell apart. Before he lost everything and hit rock bottom. After he’d crawled back to what passed for a normal life, he hadn’t put much thought into that tired old dream. Until Sara, he hadn’t ever planned on letting a woman close enough to date, let alone have kids with.

This was sure as fuck a long way off from taking one day at a time.

He’d wanted a life with this woman, yes. But on
his
terms. It was a naive thought, maybe, but it had still been what he’d planned when he took the train up here—to convince her to give them a real shot. Z shook his head. A baby. A motherfucking
baby
. He didn’t know the first thing about kids. What the hell was he going to do with one of his own?

The door opened, and he spun to face her. One look at her expression was all it took to get his answer. “You’re pregnant.”

“I’m pregnant.” She wrapped her arms around herself and crossed to sit on the couch. “This can’t be happening.”

“You can say that all you want to, but the fact remains that it
is
happening.” He started to sit next to her but she held up her hand. Trying not to be pissed, he sat on the chair across from her. “We need to talk about this.”

“I need a minute.”

“Sara—”

“No.” Her voice took on a shrill tone he’d never heard before, even when that CEO wanted to drive her out of town. “You can damn well give me a minute to catch my breath after learning that my fucking life is ruined.”

Ruined.

He’d be the first to admit that this had never been part of the plan, and wasn’t the most ideal of outcomes, but
ruined
? “It’s a baby, not a death sentence.”

“You
would
say that.” She pulled her knees to her chest. “You’re a man who barely stays in one place long enough to call it home. This isn’t going to change a damn thing in your life.”

“That’s not fair.” This was going to change a whole hell of a lot.

“It’s the truth. I’m the one who has to carry this baby.”

“You mean—”

“I’m keeping it. Unless you have a problem with that?” The look she shot him was pure venom. Coming from a woman who had smiled so sweetly and with whom he’d shared so much in such a short time… Yeah, it pissed him off.

He pushed to his feet, trying to keep a hold of his temper. “Don’t make me the villain. It took both of us to get to this point.”

“Maybe it did, but I’m the only one who’s actually chained down by the consequences.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “Okay, that wasn’t fair.”

But it was too late. His anger slipped its leash. “I didn’t hear you telling me to stop when you slid my cock home.” He wanted to throw something, to punch something, but kept the impulse tightly leashed. “No, you were begging me for more while your pussy milked me for everything I had.”

“So this is
my
fault?” Now she was on her feet. “That’s rich. And cliché. You wanted it badly enough when we were in the middle of it, but now that there are actual consequences, you’re playing the blame game.”

“No, I’m fucking not, Sara. And I’m not leaving you to shoulder this alone.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “We have to get married.”

Her eyes went wide. “Are you insane?”

“I’m not going to have my kid born a bastard.”

“Holy fucking shit, you’re serious.” She threw up her hands. “Zebadiah, let me clue you in on a little something. We’re in the twenty-first century. Women get pregnant, give birth, and raise kids without fathers around all the time—and they don’t even bother to tattoo a scarlet “A” on their chest while they do it.”

“Marry me.”

“No way. We don’t even know each other. Sure, we can fuck like porn stars, but that doesn’t make a lasting relationship.”

“Don’t dirty this. I want you. I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. Marry me.” He moved closer, but she skirted the edge of the coffee table.

As if she was afraid of him.

That
stopped him cold. “Sara—”

“Stop. Just stop.” She held up a hand. “You’re throwing everything but the kitchen sink at me, and it’s too much. I need time to think.”

What she meant was she needed time to talk to her other people to see how she fucking felt. Z shook his head. No, that wasn’t Sara. That was Jennifer. But the two nightmares were merging into one, and he had the horrible feeling that if he didn’t get an answer right this goddamn second, she was going to be lost to him forever. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you—marry me.”

“
No
.”

The rejection cut him to the soul. “So I’m good enough to fuck, but not to be in a relationship with?”

She held herself so tightly, it was as if she thought she’d fly apart at the slightest provocation. “There’s a hell of a difference between a relationship and a marriage, Z. You’re making it sound like it’s all or nothing. I can’t do things that way.”

“There’s a baby involved. It
is
all or nothing.” If she didn’t marry him, there was a chance she could cut him out of the entire process. He didn’t
think
Sara would pull a stunt like that, but it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take.

Her mouth tightened. “Get out. I’m not having this conversation with you right now.”

“I walk out, this is over.” Common sense had no place here. All he could think was that she was rejecting him—pushing him out the door while the dream he hadn’t realized he still held onto shattered around him. She wouldn’t marry him.

“If one fight is all it takes to drive you off, then go. Better now than later.”

He wanted to shake her, to kiss her, to fuck her until she saw reason, but none of those were options, not when she was edging away from him like that.
Fuck
. “You want me gone, I’m gone.”

“Just like that.” She laughed hoarsely. “I should have known.” Sara lifted the necklace he’d given her from her neck and threw it at him. “Then leave, if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t what he wanted. Fuck, couldn’t she see that? But staying here meant continuing to fight, and he could actually see her getting farther and farther from him. He scooped up the necklace and stalked out the door.

Chapter Eighteen

Sara looked around the clinic waiting room, decorated in cheery yellow colors, and wanted to turn around and leave. Two weeks since she saw Z last, and she still had a hard time wrapping her mind around the fact that this was really happening. It had seemed like some horrible waking nightmare, but six pee tests later, and there was no denying the fact that she was really pregnant.

She turned to Ridley. “Thanks for coming with me.”

“As if there was any doubt.” She bit her lip. “Though you know Z would have come if you asked.”

“He’s not speaking to me.” There had been exactly one call in fourteen days, and it started out with him proposing again and went downhill from there. He didn’t get it. Marriage wasn’t the answer. Maybe if her parents had held off a little longer before they got married and had kids, they would have realized they weren’t a good match. Except that logic didn’t fit, because they’d been
fine
for twenty years. She and Z couldn’t even be fine for two months—how the hell were they supposed to make a relationship that lasted their entire lives?

The short answer was that they couldn’t.

And she would rather her parents had never gotten married than to find out her mother lived a lie of happiness for twenty freaking years before she couldn’t take it anymore. Better to save their unborn baby the horrible trauma of realizing the parents he or she loved so much didn’t actually love each other. She smiled bitterly. It’d save the kid a fortune in therapy bills.

“Sara—”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Well, tough shit.”

She turned to look at her friend. “Is this where you tell me that he’s misunderstood and that we could totally make a life together?”

Ridley rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. He was an idiot for proposing. You don’t get married for a baby—it’s not a lasting reason to walk down the aisle.”

It shouldn’t make her so pathetically grateful that
someone
agreed with her, but it did. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that everyone’s ready to light some torches, grab some pitchforks, and hunt Z to the end of the earth? You have
no
idea what kind of moves I’ve had to pull to keep Garrett from doing something we’d all regret. And that’s not even getting into Will.”

She’d been avoiding her brothers even more thoroughly than she’d been avoiding Z. Sara already knew what they’d say—she was irresponsible and stupid and had finally gotten herself into a mess that no one could fix. She could deal with that, though. What she
wouldn’t be able to
forgive was if one of them went so far as to suggest she get an abortion to take care of the issue—or that she was an even bigger idiot for refusing to consider it.

She pressed her hand to her stomach. As irrational as it was—and as much as this baby had already complicated the hell out of her life—she couldn’t make that choice. “It’s none of their business.”

“Tell that to
them
. Oh wait, you can’t, because you’re too busy hiding in your apartment and feeling sorry for yourself.”

She glared. “You don’t know what I’m going through.”

“Oh, please. Spare me. I know
you
. Was this unplanned? Sure. Are you going to make the best of it and come out on top? No doubt about it.”

“That’s a seriously backhanded compliment.” Because Ridley was right. She
had
been bunkered down, feeling sorry for herself. Every time she thought about Z, a hole opened in her chest that felt like it’d consume her if she made one wrong move. She slouched in her seat and wrapped her arms around herself. “He wouldn’t even talk to me about it. He just laid out terms—marry him or he’s gone.”

“Z’s a man who likes a plan.” Her friend shrugged. “He was freaking the hell out.”

“We talked last week and it was more of the same—marry me or else. I can’t do that. I refuse to.” But the thought of spending the rest of her life with him on the fringes hurt, too. A lot more than she ever could have anticipated. “I don’t see why we can’t just go slow. I liked spending time with him. I thought it might really be
something
, you know? Something to break all my rules for.”

“Did you say that to him? Or did you just dig in your heels and start yelling for him to get out?”

Sara shot her a look. “He doesn’t want to talk.”

“Maybe he’s just being man-stupid and doesn’t know how. He’s as freaked out as you are. Give him a break.”

Easier said than done. His words rattled around in her head, creating a tempest that kept provoking her to respond first and think last. She
knew
what was causing his hair trigger, but that didn’t magically erase some of the stupid stuff he’d thrown at her. She was about to tell Ridley just that, but a nurse poked her head into the waiting room. “Sara Reaver?”

“Yes?”

“Follow me.”

They ended up in a room identical to every other exam room she’d ever been to. As they waited, it struck her that Z
should
be here. This was his baby as much as it was hers—a thought she kept avoiding. It was so easy to think of it as she and baby against the world, but that wasn’t the truth. If she let him, Z would be in her corner. Hell, he’d stand against anything the world decided to throw at them and probably crush it beneath his boot. The thought made her smile.

The door opened and the doctor came in. He was the same one she’d been seeing since she hit puberty, and it seemed like he’d stopped aging somewhere around sixty, because she had no idea how old he was now. He smiled at her, his eyes happy. “Congratulations, Sara. Would you like to see your baby?”

…

Z woke to find two blond men towering over him. Normally, he’d be up and moving before they had a chance to realize he was no longer sleeping, but this conversation was several weeks overdue. “Garrett. Will.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Garrett grabbed his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “Our goddamn baby sister, Z. Of all the women in the world,
she’s
the one you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants around?” He pulled back his right hand, but his twin stopped him before he made contact.

“Garrett, enough.” Will detached his hand and shoved Z back onto the couch. “How are you going to make this right?”

Make this right? Hadn’t that been exactly what he’d been trying to do from the moment he found out Sara was pregnant? But she blocked every attempt he made, and had an argument ready every time he so much as brought up marriage. She wasn’t going to let him put a ring on her finger. She’d made
that
abundantly clear. Garrett took a step forward like he was going to try to clobber Z again, and Z made no move to block it. He deserved to be clobbered.

“
Enough
.”

Garrett spun on his twin. “No, it’s not enough. I don’t get how you can be so fucking calm about this shit. Sara is having a goddamn baby and it’s
his
.”

No expression showed on Will’s face. Z had never met a colder son of a bitch than Garrett’s twin. “Because it’s Sara. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself and making her own decisions.”

“He took advantage—”

“Christ, will you listen to yourself? If anyone was taken advantage of, it was Z.”

Z, who was still standing in the room, wondered if the world had gone mad around him. He’d fully expected Garrett to show up—possibly with his twin in tow—and beat the living shit out of him. Hell, he’d relished the idea. At least then he’d have some physical pain to distract him from the soul ache that seemed to grow every day.

Garrett cursed. “None of this changes the fact that Sara is pregnant and dealing with this shit alone while he sits here and mopes.” He pointed a finger at Z.

It was as if the thing that had been building in him for the last two weeks broke. “She won’t fucking let me! You think I haven’t tried? I’ve yelled, pleaded, and tried to reason with her. She won’t listen and won’t compromise.” And every time she said no, it was like she’d stabbed him in the chest.

Will crossed his arms over his chest. “And what compromises have you offered?”

Z opened his mouth to tell him, but stopped. What
had
he offered? Marriage. Over and over again, until he thought his head might explode. “She won’t marry me.”

“No shit.” Garrett scrubbed a hand over his face. “I bet you just beat away at that point and never stopped to consider other options.” He caught both men staring. “What? If I had my way, our baby sister would be in a convent right now and never would have met you. Or, hell, she’d say yes to marrying your dumb ass. You might be a dick, but you’re loyal to a fault. I know that, even if I’m so pissed, I can’t see straight.”

He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew the truth. Even knowing he should keep his damn mouth shut, Z said, “I don’t deserve her.”

“No one does.” Garrett glared. “But I sure as hell hope you aren’t about to trot out that shit that happened with your ex to prove it. Yeah, I know about that. Don’t look so fucking surprised. I’ve known about it for years.”

“But—”

Will cut in. “Marriage is not currently an option, no matter what you or my twin want. So come up with another solution, Z, and quickly. If you don’t, you’re liable to miss out on something irreplaceable.” He grabbed Garrett’s shoulder and dragged him out of the house, leaving Z staring after them.

Didn’t they realize he
knew
Sara was slipping through his fingers? He wasn’t sleeping, was barely eating, was unable to think about anything beyond that. Even before the pregnancy, he knew he’d wanted her in his life. The presence of a baby hadn’t changed that—it had just sped up the process.

His phone chimed and he picked it up, finding a text from Garrett.
Figure your shit out. Fast.
It was paired with a forwarded picture. He stared at the ultrasound photo. It didn’t look like much—a cluster of grays and white and black—but it was his baby.
His baby
. And he’d missed seeing this in person.

How much more was he willing to miss?

He shot to his feet. Nothing. The answer was nothing else. He had to figure out how to make this right with Sara. It was tempting as fuck to call her, but he had the feeling they’d just have a repeat of the same old fight. No, he had to bring something new to the mix to show her he actually listened to what she was saying. Something he had refused to do until now. He touched the necklace she’d thrown back at him before he left her apartment.

The twins were right. He’d fucked up. But now he knew how to fix it.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. It was time to make things right with Sara. If that meant compromising? Well, he could do that, because he had the long game in mind. Someday he
would
put a ring on Sara Reaver’s finger. But, for now, he needed to focus on convincing her to carve out a spot in her life for him.