8. Harley

EIGHT

HARLEY

By Wednesday morning, I was a nervous wreck. The waiting room in the doctor's office was too quiet. There was only one other woman waiting, and no music played to set me at ease. That left me with nothing but my thoughts as I waited.

I couldn't even concentrate on the book I'd loaded on my phone. I kept reading the same sentence over and over until irritation made me shove my phone back into my purse. Instead, I stared at the floor, trying not to be too emotional. All I could think about was going in there alone. I'd never done this alone before. Sam had always been there. He'd been right beside me every step of the way with both girls––every appointment, birthing class, and baby registry.

Thinking about being alone only reminded me that Sam was gone. I bit back tears that threatened to fill my eyes. I'd be damned if I would be that lonely woman crying at the OB-GYN's office. Not happening.

A faint thought flitted across my mind. I could still get an abortion. But the thought made me just as sick as it had when I first contemplated it. There was no way I could get rid of the child growing inside me. I'd messed up, and I needed to live with that. Just because both possible fathers were shits didn't mean the baby would be. That was up to me and the girls. We would give the child a loving and healthy home. I would love the child as fiercely as I loved Mariah and Jordyn.

"Mrs. King?"

I jumped at my name. I hadn't noticed the nurse opening the door. Snatching up my purse, I stood and walked into the adjacent room. The door closed behind me, shutting off the waiting room. I couldn't help but imagine the door was not only cutting off the room, but cutting off the life I'd known before. Almost like I was stepping into a different universe.

The doctor was a very sweet and pleasant older woman, who didn't make a fuss about me being on my own. The cold gel for the ultrasound was a shock to my system and not entirely pleasant. The exam was pretty simple and just as thorough as the exams I'd had in New York. One of the fears I'd had was that rural medicine would be a lower tier, but the opposite seemed true. Without so many people coming and going, she was able to spend more time on my questions and care. By the end, I was much more relaxed than I thought I'd be.

The doctor glanced at her chart and said, "Things are looking very good. I don't have any worries at the moment. Baby is measuring well. From what I see, I would think you're right at three months along. As you saw during the ultrasound, it looks like we have a little boy on our hands. Your history says you have two daughters, so that should be exciting. A whole new adventure."

A shaky sigh escaped my chest. If I really was at three months, there was no way Luis could be the father. It had been almost four months since we'd had sex. So Tate was the father. I didn't feel any relief. Neither men were ideal. Though I had to admit, if I had to choose, I was happy Luis had been ruled out. I could deal with Tate. Things with him were already strained, but Luis was crazy and possibly dangerous. If he had been the father and found out about it, I had no doubt he would somehow use it to manipulate me. I put that out of my mind and focused on what she'd said. A boy. A whole new adventure. I wasn't in the mood for adventures.

I nodded. "Thank you so much. No, I don't have any questions."

"Sounds good. If you have no questions, then we're all set here. I'll let you get dressed. The nurse at reception will set you up for your next appointment."

My clothes went on robotically, almost like someone else was dressing me. I grabbed my purse and walked down the hall to the little window where the nurse sat. We had a conversation, but I only knew it because I could hear our voices, but I was somewhere else. Barely listening or paying attention. All I could think of was how Tate had treated me the week before and after the fireworks. He had been so distraught and angry. How would he react if he knew his child was growing inside me?

I was able to get out of the doctor's office before the tears started. It didn't build up slowly, either. I went from dry-eyed and in control to sobbing in seconds. Tears and snot poured down my face. Anyone on the sidewalk would see my breakdown, but I couldn't stop it. All I wanted was to get to my car, so I could fall to pieces on my own.

"Harley?"

My head jerked. I turned, wiping my eyes. Emily stood on the sidewalk, looking concerned.

"Sweetie, what's wrong? What happened?" she asked.

I straightened and did my best to calm down and tell her I was fine. Instead, I burst out in another crying fit. I wasn't even able to excuse myself and run away. I was too distraught to do anything but stand there and cry. Emily put an arm around me and led me down the sidewalk. I leaned against her, not paying attention to where we were going. Five minutes later, we were seated in a little café, and I was clutching a menu.

Emily ordered me a glass of water, then took my hands in hers. "Harley, what the heck is going on? Do you want to talk about it?"

Her tone wasn't judgmental. She genuinely wanted to hear my problems. I'd wanted to keep everything a secret, but I might explode if I didn't unload. I told her about the baby, how alone I was, and how frustrated I was that the father wanted nothing to do with me. Basically, every dreadful thought I'd had at the doctor's office spilled out as one big verbal vomit to a woman who I'd only met five days before.

The server must have realized things were a little emotional because she waited until I was done to swoop in and drop off our drinks. The look on her face let me know she felt awkward after watching and hearing my emotional breakdown.

"Well, ladies, what can I get you?"

Emily smiled and said, "Chef salad, please. Italian dressing."

"Got it, and for you, miss?"

I looked at her and said, "What's the greasiest, fattiest thing you've got?"

"Um… well, we have our double cheeseburger and fries… uh… I can add bacon to the burger and add chili and cheese on the fries?"

"That sounds like a heart attack on a plate. Bring me that."

The server chuckled and walked away with our orders. My tears were fully spent, but after all the crying, I had a splitting headache. Emily looked stunned by all the information, but not judgmental, which was a relief.

"Harley, that's a lot to deal with. I know you said you didn't want an abortion, what about giving the baby up for adoption?"

The thought of my child out in the world, being raised by someone else, never knowing me or his sisters, offended me more than I thought it would.

"Absolutely not. This is my child. I will raise it," I snapped.

"No, I'm sorry, I was giving you options. You seemed so distraught and torn up about the whole situation."

"Sorry, I know you're trying to help. I could never do that to a child I birthed. I'm so close with my daughters, and the thought of losing the closeness I could have with another child is too much to imagine. I'm just so alone."

Emily leaned forward and took my hand again. "You are not alone. I understand it must be overwhelming, but I'm here. I know we just met, but I think we were meant to cross paths. I want to help any way I can."

New tears tried to well in my eyes as I smiled. "Thank you. I really needed a friend. I'm glad I met you, Emily. You could have brushed me off as some crazy lady crying on the street. You have no idea how grateful I am that you took the time with me."

Emily squeezed my hand. "Girl, I got you."

The lunch was fantastic. My hunger had returned by the time the food got to us, and I devoured the burger and chili fries. After I'd wept like a baby, it tasted like the best thing I'd ever put in my mouth. By the time we were done, I felt a thousand times better. Outside, I hugged Emily and passed her my phone number.

She typed it into her phone. "I'll text you soon. Maybe we can get together again?"

"I would love that," I said, then headed to my car.

Driving home, my mood was much improved from what it had been when I'd left for the doctor. I felt so much better that when I saw Tate in his yard as I pulled in, I didn't even feel the urge to cry. That was a win in my book. I parked and checked my email on my phone before getting out of the car. Casually glancing up, I saw Tate watering his garden. My gaze lingered on him as he moved the hose back and forth across the flowers in the bed. He was as lean and muscled as he had been the last time I'd seen him. He must work out like a maniac.

Without realizing it, my gaze started sliding up and down across his body. Before long, the pregnancy hormones running roughshod through my body sent my mind to a place I didn't want it to go. It was easy to remember how it had felt to slide my hands across the muscled back as he thrust into me.

I blinked, and the horny thoughts morphed into irritation. Without thinking, I was out of my car and walking toward him. There was enough time for me to ask myself what the hell I was doing before I stepped up onto his lawn.

He glanced up, surprised, and nodded to me. "Hey."

"Hey? Do you even own a shirt? Christ, I've got young impressionable girls over there. Do you think it's appropriate for them to see you walking around half naked?"

Instead of answering me right away, he went back to watering his flowers. He did that for several seconds before turning the hose off and looking at me.

"This is my house. I own it, and the land it sits on. If I want to sit on my porch butt ass naked and drink a beer, I will."

My mouth dropped open. The thought was horrifying. At least I told myself that even as my body betrayed me, and there was a warm tingle between my legs. Keeping myself composed, I went to speak again, but he cut me off before I could start.

"Don't worry," he said, giving me a placating look. "I'm not an exhibitionist or a nudist. I wouldn't do something like that with kids around. Give me some credit." Tate looked at me and grinned slyly. "Now, if you wanted to see me naked again, I think we could work something out."

The tingle between my legs turned into a pulse, and I hated the way my body reacted to him. His eyes smoldered and burned into me. Tate was looking at me differently than he had the last time we'd spoken. It was almost like he could read my thoughts. He stepped forward and brushed his fingers across my arm. Trying to hide a pleasurable shudder, I stepped back and turned to walk away.

"Just remember your shirt next time, Tate," I called over my shoulder as I hurried back home. I didn't trust myself to stay that close to him.

He called to me as I mounted the porch steps. "Come knock if you ever change your mind."

Closing the door behind myself, I leaned against it and took a deep breath. I was fucking horny. I'd wanted him so bad. After everything that had happened, all he'd done and said, I still wanted to fuck him. What was wrong with me? My skin was on fire. I needed to cool down, and get my mind off what I was thinking about. I needed a cold shower. It would cool me, and maybe extinguish my libido.

In my room, I stripped my clothes off and jumped into an ice cold shower. My breath caught in my chest as I adjusted to the freezing temperature. But even as I put my head under the cold spray, the same thoughts flipped through my head like a picture book. I suffered the cold as long as I could before cranking the knob back to warm. In seconds, steaming hot water coursed over me. I shivered at the change in temperature.

Still, the thoughts persisted. The way his tongue had felt inside me, his strong hands kneading my breasts. I let my fingers glide up my skin and gently pinched my nipples. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I circled my nipples, the skin puckering and getting firm. I thought of Tate's throbbing dick brushing against my clit before he slid into me. My pussy was wet just from remembering it.

My right hand grazed across my stomach and then across the hair between my legs. I could feel the heat there. I let out a trembling breath, and for an instant, I tried to talk myself out of it, but my body's needs overwhelmed my mind's hesitation. As I caressed my clit, my breath caught in my throat. The small bud was engorged and more sensitive than it had ever been. I circled it, still imagining Tate fucking me.

I could almost hear him gasping for breath as his cock slammed into me. I slid two fingers into myself and whimpered. My legs nearly buckled as I moved them in and out, the movement making my palm graze over my clit. With my free hand, I tugged at my nipple, almost hard enough to be painful, which increased the pleasure between my legs. Sucking in shallow breaths through my nose, I worked my fingers faster and faster. A groan escaped my throat as my hips worked in concert with my fingers.

I sank to the shower floor, afraid I would slip and fall. My mouth dropped open on a moan as I spread my legs, my fingers thrusting into my pussy as my other hand worked my clit. I was still imagining Tate's flexing muscles above me, his tongue flicking across my nipples as we fucked. The orgasm came hard and fast, almost pulling a scream from my throat. I jerked and bucked my hips, hands still working. It went on for several seconds, powerful contractions radiating across my body. I collapsed and rested under the hot spray of the shower.

The warm glow of the orgasm faded, and I shook my head at myself. What the hell was wrong with me? Fantasizing about Tate was stupid. There was no way this was going to work. I'd just uprooted my girls' lives. Dragged them halfway across the country, and now this was what life was. Living across the street from my baby's father, and he didn't even know. A small part of me was pretty sure this was the most depressed and broken I'd been since Sam died.

I didn't cry in the shower—I, at least, had enough pride to not turn myself into that cliché. Instead, I dried off and pulled on a robe. I settled into the chair in my bedroom with a book and tried to think about anything but Tate.