Untimely You (23 page)

He frowns and his eyes dart all over my face as if he’s trying to make sense of what I’m saying. Then, he reaches forward, and tugs the key from my palm in my lap. “I’m proud you got a building, Neesy. Why would I be upset?”

Oh.

I clench my teeth and blink rapidly to ward off the tears. This baby is making me an emotional hot mess.

“Are you okay?” His dark eyes have narrowed. He’s peeling back the layers of my mind and peeking inside my head. He’ll find out I’m carrying his baby and then what?

Knowing Adrian, he’ll want to be responsible. He’ll pay child support monthly and do what’s required by law. Adrian is a good father, so I don’t see him as the type not to want visitations with our child.

But what if he freaks?

What if he wants me to terminate my baby?

I fist both hands in my lap and glare at him. Never. I’d just as soon cut his eyeballs out with the key to my building than let that ever happen. No way.

And just like that, my sadness has morphed into a raging hormonal monster. I’m out of control with these damned emotions. Just today I called Shawna a bitch. She couldn’t meet me for lunch because she had to work. I went off on her.

I’m out of control.

With a roar that I hope sounds like a lion rather than a kitten-like growl, I snatch the key from his hand. “Leave me alone before I cut your eyeballs out! You will not hurt it!”

Eric’s eyes are wide and concerned as he reenters the room with the liquor I can’t even smell without getting nauseous. I send Adrian a scathing glare before running from the room. Once I’m inside the bathroom, I sit on the soft bath mat and cry.

I cry for my baby.

I cry for me.

But mostly I cry for Adrian.

I
’ve been to hell.

And back.

Then back to the fiery, guilt-filled depths of my mind.

And back.

Each time I go there, it’s her—always her—who brings me back. Thoughts of Neesy are what have gotten me through my darkest times over the last few weeks. I wanted to push her away. For her. Not me. The greedy little bastard I am craves her like I crave fucking air to live.

“What’d you say to her, man?” Eric asks.

My lips press into a firm line and I rub at a knot of tension in my neck. “I only asked her if she was okay. Then she threatened me.”

If I were her, I’d want to cut my eyeballs out too.

Poor fucking Neesy.

I’ve pushed her to this point.

“I’m going to talk to her,” I say and start striding after her.

He growls. Fucking growls at me. “No.”

Whipping around, I glare at him. “Why the fuck not?”

“Because you’ve done enough, brother.”

He shoulders past me and stalks down the hallway. My best friend is going to console my woman. Because I can’t.

I stand there for a whole five minutes running my fingers through my hair in frustration before I can’t take it anymore. Screw this.

Storming down the hallway, I find the door ajar to the bathroom. Inside, Eric holds her—my Neesy—to his chest while she cries. A hot rage floods through me. When his eyes find mine, he shakes his head at me. He looks pissed—like he wants to claw my eyeballs out too. What. The. Actual. Fuck?

“Go.” It isn’t a suggestion. It’s a goddamned order.

“Actually, I think you should—”

“So help me, Eric. Leave me alone with her.”

She nods, if only slightly, and my heart rate picks up. He kisses her head, and I swear to fucking God I’m about three seconds from dragging him by his collar out of the bathroom. Best friend or not, he’s pissing me off.

“Don’t make this worse,” he threatens as he stalks past me.

She hugs herself and looks down at the floor.

I don’t hesitate.

I don’t think.

I just go to her.

Her body seems so small and frail in my arms. Jesus, how I’ve missed holding her. As soon as I fully embrace her, she seems to relax. This is how it’s supposed to be. With us, we work better as two halves functioning as a whole.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words aren’t enough, yet I think she understands the mountain of thoughts and emotion they contain.

“Me too.”

The pain in my chest is beginning to subside. It’s been ever present for a couple of months now.

“Come on,” I say in a gravelly whisper. Grabbing her hand, I guide her through the house and up the stairs. We find our way to the attic, neither of us speaking. Once I let her inside, she goes straight to the cushions to sit while I lock the door. By the time I’ve located a blanket and kicked off my shoes, she’s curled up to face the small window with her back to me.

I lie down next to her and spread the blanket over us before snuggling against her. Her hair smells fucking fabulous. I want to bury my nose in it—to only breathe in her hair for the rest of my life.

“It’s been hell without you,” I admit. My palm runs up and down along her shoulder. She shivers.

“It’s been hell without you too.”

I smile. Unable to help myself, I kiss the back of her head. “I’m trying to work through some shit in my head. Most days, I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to touch and kiss you. To make love to you. But then…”

“You get angry?”

I close my eyes and sigh. “Out of control, Nees. I destroyed Chrissy’s room.”

She tenses in my arms. “Why?”

When I slide my palm down along her ribs, she stops me with her hand. I thread my fingers with hers. “I just got pissed. Pissed she left us. After all this time. Pissed at me for being a dick who cheated on her. Pissed at you for being so fucking perfect.”

My heart is pounding in my chest and I wonder if she can hear it. To me, it sounds like a herd of elephants thundering past us.

“Nees,” I say with a groan. “I tore apart the walls. Broke windows. Anything I could touch, I tried to destroy. Looks like a fucking tornado hit.”

“You’re like the Incredible Hulk. Gumby and the Hulk. A pair of destructive green characters. We’re like a perfect match,” she teases. I hear it.
Her.
I hear fucking
her
for the first time in forever in her voice.

“So I should just rip all your clothes off and make love to you like a wild man?” I questions with a grin.

She slaps at my hand. “This sweater was forty bucks. Rip it and I’ll rip you.”

Our laughter fades and I sigh. “In all seriousness, I’m a fucking mess. Right now, with you, everything feels right and perfect. Like when we first made love. The world doesn’t exist. All that does is right here in my arms.”

She sniffles and I attempt to wrap my arm around her middle, but she pushes it away. “Do you mean that?”

“I do. The problem is…”

“When we leave this room?”

Another frustrated sigh. “Yes. When the reminders all around me force me to face how much I fucked up. It’s then, baby, I get so fucking furious.”

I hear her swallow. “But that’s what couples do. They stick through the hard times together for moments like these. I told you I’d wait for you. There hasn’t been anyone on my radar since New York. Since the day I met you. I’m hopelessly in love with you, and it makes me miserable when you push me away. But I still wait. Because you’re here now. This was worth that pain.”

“But how many times of me pushing you away can you take? At what point will it not be worth it, Nees?” I question, pain causing my voice to crack.

“It will always be worth it.”

I kiss her hair again. “What if I hurt you? In a state of rage…what if I hurt you like I hurt that room? Destroy you with my angry words and bitter tongue?”

“As long as you talk to me about what hurts, we can work through this. I’m your partner, not your enemy. My heart is healed when your arms are around me. We can figure this out, Adrian.”

I attempt to hug her again, but she pushes my arm away. “What the hell, Crazy? Why won’t you let me touch you? I need to make this up to you. Let me love you.”

Her mewl sends desire surging to my cock. I want to fill her and mark her. To show her I don’t ever want to lose her.

“We need to talk about something. Something very important.”

The serious manner in which she says her words has me sitting up on an elbow to look down at her. “What’s wrong?”

She looks over her shoulder at me and tears well in her eyes. “Do you remember the fall I had in New York?”

I nod and terror freezes me. Something tells me I’m going to hate the words coming out of her mouth. Jesus Christ, I hope it isn’t what I think.

“They did a CAT scan…” A sob.

My heart which was starting to grow is shriveling and shrinking by the second. I’m cursing God under my breath. The Hulk-like rage is threatening to tear me apart from the inside out.

Please, no.

“Kenny Rogers told me I was fine…”

Kenny Rogers? What the fuck is she going on about?

Fine. Fine. Fine.

Why do I feel like nothing is fine?

“But my blood work. It…” And now she’s crying again.

I brush her hair away from her face. “Whatever it is, we can get through it. I’ll find the best doctors to take care of you. Is it cancer? I fucking won’t lose you too, goddammit!”

And then she’s laughing.

Hysterical. Loony-bird. Insane. Crazy. Laughing.

I’m so dizzied by her, I could vomit. Why the fuck is she laughing?

“It’s not cancer.”

Thank. Fucking. God. “What then?”

“I’m fifteen weeks pregnant.”

It’s not cancer. It’s not cancer. It’s not fucking cancer.

“Do you understand?” she questions.

I blink. Understand what? “Huh?”

“I’m almost four months pregnant, Wacko.”

Time stops. Anger and confusion and thundering hearts. It all fades. My world becomes silent. Serene. I blink again. Pregnant. But I’m almost forty fucking years old. It’s not cancer.

“Please say something.”

But I can’t. My lips are frozen. Words are stilled inside my brain. “Um…”

She sits up and peels her forty-dollar sweater from her perfect body. With her back to me, I revel in the way her long, reddish brown hair hangs down her back in messy waves. She’s so fucking beautiful. With practiced fingers, she unlatches her bra and lets out a relieved moan. A moan that makes its way straight to my dick. Once she tosses it away, she lies back down. My eyes travel along her face. Her dark brows are cinched together in a serious manner. Those full lips I love kissing are slightly parted. My God, I crave to kiss her. And I do. Just a soft peck before I continue my visual sampling of her.

Her tits—fuck me—are swollen and huge. Bigger than I remember. Then I get it. I understand it. It all makes sense.

A slightly swollen belly.

Pregnant.

With my baby.

She’s tried, since New York, to tell me. But each time, I was too wrapped up in myself…too involved in me to notice her. To listen to her. To understand what she was trying to explain.

I can’t speak. I have no words. They’ll all come out wrong anyway. No, I must do what I do best. I’ll make her understand how I feel. I kiss her lips once more. Then her throat. Each nipple. And then I kiss her soft flesh on her stomach.

Over and fucking over again.

Our child.

She’s pregnant with our child.

I don’t question how this has happened. I don’t even own any condoms from this decade. We made love. Unprotected. Multiple times. And we made a baby.

I’m fucking ecstatic.

“I love you.” Those whispered words are to both of them. Mine. My crazy Neesy and our baby. “I love you.” And I can’t stop repeating those hot, soft words against her flesh. “I love you.”

“You’re not mad?”

I lift up and grin at her. “I’m not mad. Wait until Damien hears the good news.”

She beams at me. I don’t think she’s ever been more beautiful.

“Take off your pants,” I growl. “I need inside of you.”

“So now you’re territorial?” she questions, making no moves to do as she’s told.

“You’re mine,” I tell her with a smug grin. Then, I splay my palm out on her belly. “This is mine too.”

When I grab the top of her leggings and start inching them down along with her panties, she lets out a laugh.

“You’re greedy, Wacko.”