Chapter 10

Ten

Avoiding Marcus is harder than I anticipated. The rational part of my brain knows it is best that I tell Haden before Marcus. It seems like the right thing to do, but Marcus is desperate, horny, and not afraid of letting me know that. I can’t pull the period card out because he gives me alternatives, and seriously what is it with young guys and their desire for anal activities? Nevertheless, I manage to avoid any physical activity with Marcus knowing it’s for the best.

My clothing has started to feel restrictive, and I am fairly certain I can see a small bump, still small enough to pass it off as bloating. I can’t button my pants, so I stick to wearing skirts and loose-fitting blouses. On top of the stress of telling Haden and Marcus, I have my parents to deal with.

To soften the blow, telling my sister, Gemma, gives me a taste of what is about to come. She is over the moon and wants all the juicy tidbits about baby daddy. Then came a whole speech about how much she was going to spoil her niece or nephew. We talked about the right way to tell Mom and Dad, and agree it is best over the phone followed by a visit.

My nerves are shot to hell about making that phone call, but I can’t hide it forever. Plus, I really need my mom and her parental advice right now.

As predicted, my parents were deeply disappointed, especially because they loved Jason so much and spent an hour telling me that I should have fallen pregnant with him. It isn’t a rewind-and-let’s-try-again situation. The damage is done. Mom, of course, is extra disappointed Haden is younger than me as it is frowned upon in her generation for a woman to marry a younger man. That lecture took another hour. By the end of the phone call, I am emotionally spent. As soon as we hang up, my mom calls me right back and starts panicking.

“Are you taking your prenatal vitamins?”

“Make sure you don’t eat blue cheese and cold meats.”

“Don’t sleep on your stomach. You might squash the baby.”

I could have listened all day to her. There is nothing more comforting at that moment than some motherly advice. I told her I will clear my schedule next month and fly to Virginia to spend a few days with them before I get too big. She seems more at ease by the end and even gloats about being a grandmother and knitting booties.

With that now ticked off my list, I know I have no choice but to tell Haden.

The perfect opportunity presents itself on Friday night, a week later. I suggested we work on finalizing some details on Fallen Baby and asked Haden to come to my apartment. Hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea, I ordered a ton of takeout remembering the old the-way-to-a-man’s-heart-is-through-his-stomach saying. Not that I want to get to his heart, I just want to remain alive by the end of the conversation.

He turns up at seven on the dot, dressed in light jeans and a white tee. The Chucks on his feet make me think he will not be going out clubbing, especially since he is also wearing a baseball cap. I blame the hormones again for noticing how delicious he looks. I don’t bother to dress up. I’m wearing a loose-fitting tank top and drawstring shorts. It’s pretty much the only thing that fits right now, plus it is scorching hot outside. Being pregnant in the summer has not made me a happy camper.

Walking barefoot back to my sofa, I ask him to take a seat before offering him a drink.

“Nice place you got here. You moving?” he asks, spotting the bare walls and stacked boxes.

“Yeah, soon. This was ours, but we decided to sell. Had a few offers, and I think we’re closing soon.”

“Ours?”

“Jason’s and mine. We bought it two years ago.”

“Right. Have you found a place?”

“I’ve been to inspect a few. Not much in my price range. I wish I could afford to buy this place, but a part of me thinks it’ll be good to move on.”

That seems to be the extent of our forced conversation, so I grab my laptop and go through my bullet points, all the while finding the courage to start the inevitable. Throughout the conversation, my head is repeating what I’m about to say over and over again until the point when he waits for me to respond, and I have no idea what he’s just asked.

“I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“You seem distracted. I asked if the author plans a sequel.”

“Uh… not at this stage.”

“All right,” he says, crossing his arms. “I’ll bite. Why are you acting weird?”

“Weird? Okay…” I take a long breath. “This… is very… I need to ask you a question.”

He sits back into the sofa. With a composed yet undermining stare, he waits patiently if not eagerly for me to speak. I’ve become a little distracted, imagining myself sitting on top of him, riding his beautiful pierced dick, and then, fuck these damn hormones! Focus!

“That night in the alley—”

“You said we weren’t to talk about that,” he is quick to remind me.

“I know I said that, but I have to ask you something, and I don’t want you reading more into it.”

“What are you going on about, Malone?”

Here goes, my eggs all in one basket—literally.

“Did you…” God, how do I ask this? “Did you… you know, finish?”

“Finish?”

“Finish… do the deed. Shoot your load.”

There is a wicked grin on his face and rubbing his barely-existent beard in an annoying yet smoldering manner, he has me stumbling on my thoughts.

“Let me get this straight, Malone. You’re asking me if I came?”

Sitting cross-legged on the sofa, I feel so juvenile, nodding to suppress the sheer embarrassment.

“I’m curious as to why you’re only asking me this now?”

“Because I just need to know.”

With his arm draped along the back of the sofa, he inches closer, intimidating me with a persistent stare. He doesn’t realize I’m in the prime of the pregnancy, loaded with hormones, ready to pounce and beg him to fuck me because I am so damn horny I can’t even think straight.

“It’s a personal question, and you’re demanding an answer without explaining why you need to know.”

“Cut the bullshit, Jerk. We passed personal when you decided to screw me in the alley.”

“You cut the bullshit, Malone. Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out without thinking, without any emotion.

There.

Done.

Phew.

I release a breath, finally able to breathe a little.

It’s not just one ball of tumbleweed, but a whole colony that rolls past as the silence falls over the room. I don’t dare look at him, his heavy breathing enough of an indication that he’s about to have a stroke.

“Why weren’t you on the fucking pill, Malone?” he demands, raising his voice and catching me off guard while jumping off the sofa.

“I was on the pill! Why would you come inside me and assume that?”

He is pacing the floor, his hat thrown onto the table as he runs his fingers through his hair in utter despair. His eyes are wild with panic, and he looks ready to smash the first thing in sight.

I’m right.

He does it moments later, and the porcelain lucky elephant that Gemma gave me is splattered on the floor.

Okay, don’t go ape-shit on him. The elephant is replaceable. Have some compassion for the Jerk, you’ve just delivered the most lifechanging news. He needs to process.

“I put a fucking condom on! You pulled it off. Then we used another one.”

“What do you want me to say? Scientifically, we beat the odds, and I don’t know what the hell happened or how,” I yell back in frustration.

“How could this happen, then? And how can you assume it’s mine? Who knows who you were doing? Marcus… it’s got to belong to Marcus.”

He didn’t just go there. Yep, he did.

Unleash the hounds.

Quick to my feet, I’m eye to eye with him, matching his stance. Even though he towers over me while I’m barefoot, he doesn’t intimidate me one bit. My arms are straight, hands locked into fists, ready to tear into him.

“I’m not that person. Blood tests and ultrasounds confirmed how far along I am. I can’t even… you know what?” I say, barely able to control my anger. “You can walk away now. Forget I told you this. You’re young, got your whole life ahead of you. I can raise this baby. I don’t need someone in my life thinking I’m a whore.”

“I didn’t… look, I’m sorry. It’s just—”

“Too late for apologies, Jerk.”

Silence, again.

This time, he sits back on the sofa and bends over with his face between his legs. His arms are resting on his knees, but they appear to be shaking. Neither of us saying a word, the silence continues as the clock ticks over.

“I’m engaged,” he mumbles, his words barely audible. “To Eloise.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t want anything from you.”

Still, without knowing what the hell happened in London, the name and sentiment strike a nerve with me, almost like a how-dare-I-ruin-things-for-him attitude. It dawns on me that he doesn’t even take a moment to ask me how I’m doing, whether I’ve had morning sickness, or anything about the baby. It’s all about him, and why did I expect anything different from Haden Cooper?

I should have just kept this a secret and moved away, and life could continue for him. Except you want the best for your unborn child, and having a father around who is a positive male role model is supposed to be a good thing. I wouldn’t go as far as saying the Jerk could be a positive role model, though.

Again, I shouldn’t have breathed a word.

“Marcus. Does he know?”

“No… I thought you needed to know first. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

“I want to be there when you tell him,” he responds, threatening me as he struggles to compose his anger.

“Wha… why? I don’t want to deal with your ego bullshit,” I inform him. “I’ll just tell him, and it’s over.”

I want him to leave.

I want to climb under my covers and cry myself to sleep.

I’m scared, frightened, and unsure of how I am going to raise this baby alone.

Somewhere deep down inside, I wish he would have stepped up and taken responsibility for his actions. But true to form, he grabs his phone and wallet from the table and without making eye contact he says, “I have to go.”

There are no more words, and the second he is gone, I begin to cry myself to sleep.