Anabelle
“Thanks for coming over tonight and fixing this leak. Madison and I really appreciate it. You know how I hate calling my dad—he hates that I’m living here, and I don’t need him thinking it’s such a dump he makes me move home.”
Rex’s feet stick out from under our sink, handing me the wrench he used to tighten the pipes in the kitchen before hauling himself out and to his feet.
He has a black smudge on his face and I reach out to wipe it away with my thumb.
“How did you get so messy? That’s where we keep all the cleaning supplies—how can it be dirty under there?”
His fingers gently grab hold of my wrist, kissing at the sensitive skin there before releasing it. “Don’t worry about the mess, Donnelly. The sink is fixed and you can run the faucet without it leaking.”
Whoa. That’s the first time Rex has shown any type of physical affection for me, always keeping a safe, respectable distance.
“The plumbing shouldn’t give you any more problems, but if it does, I’m not leaving to head home for Christmas until tomorrow. You need me to do anything else, you call, okay? Change a light bulb or something? I’m your guy.”
I laugh. “That we can do ourselves. Normally I would have tightened that bolt, too, but with this bump getting bigger, I wasn’t taking any chances under the sink. I probably would have had to call the fire department to have them come save me.”
“You’re so fucking cute pregnant.” Gunderson surveys me while running the water, scrubbing his hands clean.
“You think so?” My long, dark hair is shiny from the prenatal vitamins, thick and lush, falling over my breasts in silky waves. Skin? Flawless.
“Yes, Anabelle.” He glances at me, absentmindedly wiping his hands dry on a towel. “You’re definitely one of those women who can pull off the sexy preggo look.”
Women.
Not girl. Not chick.
He sees me as a woman.
It’s been ages since anyone has told me I look sexy or complimented me on my appearance, and I miss it. It feels wonderful.
“Hey, Anabelle?”
I glance up at Rex, who’s leaning against my kitchen counter in jeans and an Iowa wrestling hoodie, head cocked to the side, looking young and hopeful. Adorkable, if I’m being honest.
“Yeah?”
“Have you ever thought about, you know…me.”
“You? I think about you all the time, you goof.”
His head shakes. “No, Anabelle, have you thought about what it would be like being with me?”
“Why? Have you thought about what it would be like to be with me?”
His big, brown eyes are intense. Sweet. “All the time.”
All the time? How did I not know that?
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought much about relationships lately. Truthfully, who would want to be with me, Rex? I’m not exactly a catch at the moment.”
I’m roughly six months pregnant and getting bigger every day. My hormones are out of whack and I cry all the time. Sure, my hair and skin look amazing, and I haven’t gained much pregnancy weight, but…
He straightens to his full height, inching toward me, reaching for my hands.
“I consider you a catch, Anabelle Donnelly. You and your neon pink poster board were probably the best thing that happened to me this year. Without you, I’d be acting like a dumbass somewhere, wasting my fucking education.”
Oh God, he is too, too sweet.
“You can do better than me, Rex,” I chastise quietly, letting him lace our fingers. “And your mother would drop dead from a heart attack if you started dating me.”
I would know because I’ve met his mother. She’s one of those high-maintenance suburban housewife socialites with regular Botox injections and pouting lips. She loves me as his friend but would have a conniption fit if we were romantically involved.
He shrugs. “Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t.”
“Rex…”
“Will you at least let me kiss you before I go?”
Yes. Yes, I’ll let him kiss me. I’m single and lonely, and the father of my child hasn’t made any declarations. And I’m curious.
I tip my chin up as his hands slide along my shoulders and up my neck, cupping my face as Elliot has done dozens of times in the past. God, the contact feels good.
His lips are timid, like butterfly kisses, soft and gentle and exploratory, gradually gaining confidence. He kisses me tenderly and I’m curious enough to open my mouth, to let his tongue slip inside.
Our breaths mingle. Tongues roll.
He tastes good, like gum and the cologne I bought for his birthday to replace the terrible scent he always wore before.
The kiss doesn’t last long, but it’s nice.
Definitely nice.
My toes aren’t curling inside my socks like they did with Elliot, but as far as first kisses go, I’ve had worse, with guys who didn’t care about me like Gunderson does.
Still, is nice enough?
As scared as I am to be alone, is it fair to give Rex hope? I nibble my bottom lip, thinking.
“I never thought I would actually get the chance to kiss you—never in a million fucking years.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re…you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Well, for one, you’re Coach Donnelly’s daughter. He fired me and hated my guts, like, forever. Two, that stupid, fucking bet. Three, you’re beautiful and smart and should know better than to be friends with someone like me.”
I place a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it tenderly.
“You’re more than dumb pranks and tasteless jokes. That’s why I’m friends with you, Rex. I see the good in you. You’re one of my best friends.”
“I can live with that assessment.” He pauses, hand blazing a trail down my arm. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Are you waiting for Elliot?”
I avoid his inquisitive gaze. “Define wait.”
“Anabelle, you know he’s not coming back, right?” He asks quietly enough that my shoulders sag.
Why is he saying this? I don’t need him pointing out the obvious—it makes me feel like shit. “I know he’s not coming back, I’m not a fool. I watched him leave—twice.”
Backing away, he crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. “You have to be realistic. He is gone. He’s moved on with his life. You video chat and email for Christ’s sake—what kind of a relationship is that? What kind of involvement do you want for the baby? An absentee dad or one that’s right here? I’m right fucking here, Anabelle.”
“Rex, don’t do this now.” Please don’t, I silently beg.
I’m already so confused. Rex is baring his soul when mine isn’t nearly ready for him, not just yet.
“I’m sorry, Anabelle. That’s how I feel, and I’ve done a lot of growing up this past semester. I just wanted you to acknowledge that, and maybe, when you’re ready, give me a chance. I’m going to be an engineer,” he boasts.
I close the distance between us, raising my palm to his cheek, stroking it softly. “You are so good to me, and I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”
“Are you kidding me? You’re the best friend I have right now—everyone else abandoned me when I fucked up. You’re the only one who has my back, and now I have yours.”
“God, you’re so…”
“Marvelous?” He flashes me a cocky grin. “I know.”
I pat his face. “The ego on you.”
“It gets me through the day, Donnelly. Days like this where I pour my heart out and it gets stomped on.”
My hands fly to my hips now, affronted. “I am not stomping on your heart, you brat!”
“But you’re never going to fall in love with me, are you?”
“I don’t…” I don’t think so. “I don’t know.”
We stare each other down, the kitchen silent, clock above the window ticking loudly. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Then, from the front of the house, a knock on the door. Three short raps, followed by more deafening silence.
“Guess that’s my cue to leave.” Rex gathers the black winter parka draped over one of my kitchen chairs, sliding his arms into the sleeves. Zips it up the front.
I flirtatiously bump him with my hip. “I’ll walk you out.”
“Let me go first. It’s dark out, you shouldn’t be answering the door. You have no peephole.” Passing the couch on his way to the entryway, he snatches a blanket from the back, unfolding it. Drapes it across my shoulders. “Here, wrap up. It’s cold out.”
My heart leaps at his gesture, wishing the circumstances were different, wishing my heart wasn’t aching for someone hundreds of miles away.
“Thank you.”
We’re still grinning at each other like fools when Rex unlocks and pulls open my front door, smiles dropping when we both catch an eyeful of the man standing on my front stoop.
My breath catches.
“Elliot?”
Those soulful eyes I love so much gaze up at mine, flickering between Rex and me, flashing a mix of curiosity and anger. Jealousy.
“Well, well, well, look who decided to show up.” Rex’s laugh is slightly maniacal and my brows shoot up, surprised. “Hey, baby daddy. Long time no see.”
“Rex!” I gasp, mortified and uncomfortable. “Stop.”
Elliot shifts on his heels. “It’s okay, Anabelle. He’s right.”
“Damn right I am.” Rex’s nostrils flare.
I drag my gaze off my friend, fixating on the guy I haven’t laid eyes on in far too long. “Elliot, what are you doing here?”
“Yeah, Elliot,” Rex parrots, “what are you doing here?”
“Please, Rex.” I turn to face him, laying my palms in the middle of his chest, over his puffy winter coat. “Maybe it’s best if you left. I can handle this on my own.”
I can’t describe the change in his expression—couldn’t if I tried—and I want to beg him to forgive me for sending him away when he’s just trying to protect me from myself, from getting hurt when it’s obviously inevitable.
Hurt and devastation. Love and devotion.
That’s what I see reflected in Gunderson’s half-hooded eyes as he looks down at me, debating.
“Fine.” His lips purse. He leans in and presses a kiss to my cheek, speaking low into my ear. “Text if you want me to come back.”
“I will.”
“Night, Anabelle.” He yanks a knit cap out of his pockets, pulling it down on his head. Snarls at Elliot, bumping his broad shoulder as he passes, stepping down onto the sidewalk. “Deuces, douchebag.”
I give him an embarrassed, feeble wave. “Bye.”
He walks backward down the sidewalk, facing the house, calling out to me in the frigid cold. “I’ll be back in two weeks. I’ll message you while I’m gone.”
Another wave. “Drive safe.”
It’s freezing and our warm breaths mingle with the frigid air, tension-filled puffs wafting into the night. I can’t stop my chest from rising and falling, breathing hard from the shock of seeing Elliot on the concrete steps of the house.
I drag my eyes off the road, off the taillights of Rex Gunderson’s retreating vehicle to Elliot’s, afraid of what I’ll see there.
“I know it’s not my place to ask, but what the hell was that?”
He’s right—it really is not his place. Not anymore, not after he left without any declarations or commitments toward me.
“That was Rex.” I’m deliberately being obtuse.
“Clearly.” He pauses, tone laced with irritation. “What was he doing here?”
“We’re just friends.”
“Just friends. You expect me to buy that bullshit?”
I throw my hands up, too tired to argue, too excited to see him. He’s big and strapping and finally—FINALLY—standing on my doorstep, just as I’ve dreamed about hundreds of times.
“Elliot, I’m really glad to see you, but if all you want to do is argue about my friendship with Gunderson, then you’ve come to the wrong place.” I swallow the lump in my throat before tears threaten to spill. “Besides, I thought you’d go home to your parents when you came back.”
“No. I came straight here.” He swallows a lump, too. “This was where I wanted to be.”
At his feet sit two huge duffel bags I don’t recognize, large, full duffels that look nothing like overnight bags. They’re big, overstuffed, made for travel.
“What is all this? You’re only home for a few weeks, this seems…excessive.”
“I left school, Anabelle. I packed up my shit and left.”
“What do you mean?” I swear my breath hitches, breathlessly anticipating what he’s about to say. Hopeful but wary. Excited but cautious. Guilty.
“I quit. Done. Dropped out—whatever words you want to assign to it. I withdrew.”
“Elliot, we talked about this.” I cannot keep the nerves out of my voice. Why would he drop out of school and come back to Iowa when he hates it here? When he was so sure Michigan was the best school for him? For his future?
“I wanted to Anabelle. This has been eating me up inside. You have no fucking idea—none. I missed you like crazy before I even moved there, and there was no fucking way I was going to stay in Michigan knowing you’re here doing this pregnancy thing on your own. No fucking way.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Can I come in?” He bounces on the balls of his feet, blowing on his hands though they’re covered with big, black mittens. “It’s cold as balls out here.”
Elliot
As soon as Anabelle closes the door behind me, drops the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and I see that baby bump…
I drop to my knees, coming face to face with her pregnant belly. Place my hands on either side of it, smoothing my palms over the stretched cotton of her long-sleeved navy T-shirt.
“Oh my God, look at you.” I don’t know what to say next; the sight of her isn’t what I was expecting. This Anabelle is ethereal and gorgeous—not that she wasn’t before—and glowing. Everything about her is calming and serene, and it’s no wonder Rex Gunderson is sniffing around.
She’s never looked more beautiful than she does now.
She’s sent me photos of herself and I follow her on Instagram, but photographs and the reality of it are two completely different things.
It’s surreal.
It’s beautiful.
“I’m huge.” She reddens, dipping her face to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks and down her neck. “It’s embarrassing going to class now if you want to know the truth.”
I rise to my feet.
“My mom said you looked great.” She wasn’t kidding. “She gushes about you—my sisters call you Baby Mama, but it’s just to give me shit about not being married and having a kid out of wedlock.”
“I love your sisters.”
“They’re pretty fucking cool.” And now that they’ve officially met the girl I knocked up, have discovered Anabelle is not a grasping, irresponsible, sleazy party girl, they’re actually pretty damn excited to have a new niece or nephew. Thank fucking God because my sisters can be assholes when they’re not happy or don’t like someone. Together, when presenting a united front, they have made grown men cry; I can’t imagine what they’d do with a female they loathed, especially one who made me a father at the age of twenty-two.
“Is your roommate home?”
“No, she went home. She actually packed up and is coming back for her boxes when she gets back from break.”
Good.
“What do you mean, good?”
“Shit—did I say that out loud?”
She laughs, and it’s the first time I’ve heard the sound since one of our FaceTime chats—and we haven’t done one of those in weeks.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because we’re going to need that room.”
“Elliot…” Her pale hands cover the expanse of her stomach, delicate fingers spanning over her belly button protectively.
“I know what you’re thinking—you don’t want to get your hopes up. I’ve left twice already. I get that, okay? I understand why you’re scared, but I’m not going anywhere this time, and if you want, I’ll sleep in your old room until you’re comfortable having me back—or forever, I don’t care. I just want to be here for you.”
“How? You need to be in school.”
“After I left last time and told my parents, the three of us talked. I don’t know if my mom told you, but we worked out a plan. I applied here, just in case—and just got my acceptance. One semester at Michigan in the bag. Packed my shit. Kissed my loud neighbor’s ass goodbye, and here I am.”
“Here.”
“Here to stay. For good.”
Her twinkly little laugh cannot disguise her nerves. “God Elliot, how much have I cost you in furniture in the past year?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here—I’m just sorry it took so long.”
“I wouldn’t have blamed you for not coming back—I really wouldn’t have. I understand why you need Michigan, and I can’t ask you to give up the best program for kinesiology for me. I can’t and won’t.”
My head goes back and forth, and I choose my words carefully.
“You know…every night I was alone in the miserable apartment. Every night I came home and sat there alone. Ate alone. Did homework alone. Ran alone. It sucked. And do you know why?”
She shakes her head no, feebly, eyes wide.
“Yes, you do. Even surrounded by people, I was alone because I wasn’t with you. I would haven’t lasted a year, with or without this baby, Anabelle. I would have been back for you regardless.”
“Stop it.” Her nose sniffs.
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to make me cry.”
“Anabelle. I don’t know what to say to you. If you—” I gulp. “If you want me to step aside so you can see other people, I’ll do that because I love you. I want you to be happy and I’ve put you through enough already this year, but I also want you to know I want to try.”
“Elliot—”
“Would you let me finish? I’ve had almost seven hours in the car with nothing to do but think this through, think about you and this baby. It’s a fucking miracle I was able to finish this last semester, Anabelle. I have no idea how to be a dad, but mine is pretty fucking great, and so is yours—that right there is an automatic win for us.”
I babble on, driven by nerves. “I’m excited. I want to barf sometimes, but who doesn’t? I’m scared shitless, but so are you, and we’re old enough to make this work.”
She’s worrying her bottom lip, nibbling, and I’m not sure if that’s good or bad, so I do the only thing I can do. I ask.
“I’m freaking the fuck out, Anabelle. Would you please say something?” You could cut the thick silence in the room with a dull knife.
“Rex is…just my friend.”
Seriously? She’s going to start the conversation by bringing that douche canoe into it? I bristle.
“He is just my friend and he’s been amazing. I love him, and it’s important you know that because he’s not going anywhere. He’s rubbed my back and kept me company, and shoveled my sidewalk in the freezing cold. Rex has done all the things a good friend does to be supportive.”
“Is he in love with you?”
Anabelle bites her lip again. Nods. “I think he might be.”
Unrequited love sucks dick.
I’ve never felt it, never been in it, but I imagine loving someone who doesn’t love me back would gut me. Poor bastard.
“Did he say as much?”
“No, but he kissed me.”
“When?”
Why am I asking her these questions when the answer will only serve to piss me off? Glutton for punishment.
“Tonight. Before you got here.”
“And you let him?” My voice raises a notch, heart racing.
“I did.”
“And?” The suspense is killing me.
“It was nice.”
It was nice?
What the hell does that mean? I’m not sure what to do with that information or how to react, so I stand there, gazing down at her, baffled. Patient but confused as shit.
Then, “You’re just friends, but the kiss was nice?”
“Yes.”
Sort of how she and I were “just friends,” but the sex was fantastic? We were “just friends,” but are having a baby?
Shit.
“He knows he’s not the one for me.”
“Does he though?”
“Yes. We talk about you all the time.”
Oh, awesome! I can imagine how those conversations go if we’re basing it on his behavior on the porch. He called me a douche and “baby daddy”, and neither came out his mouth sounding like compliments.
I roll my eyes. “He didn’t seem thrilled to see me.”
“No, he wasn’t, but put yourself in his shoes. We have a class together, we have fun together, and he didn’t judge me when he found out I was pregnant—in fact, he loves babies. Weird, right?”
Yeah. Weird.
I scowl.
“He’s introduced me to his parents and really cares, Elliot. He’s changed in the past few months. I think getting kicked off the team was the best thing that’s happened to him, strange as that sounds.”
“Okay, can we please stop talking about Rex Gunderson and start talking about us?”
I’m so irritated.
“But don’t you see? He’s a part of my life and he’ll have to be part of yours too if we’re going to make this work, if we’re going to be together. That’s what you want, right? To be together?”
Yes. “Hell yes.”
“Then you’ll figure out a way to tolerate each other, for my sake. I’m not abandoning a friend because the two of you can’t act mature. Suck it up.”
Jealousy is a powerful sentiment, elevated when the situation is already fucked up.
“That’s something a mom would say,” I murmur.
Anabelle grins, beaming. “Is it?”
“Yeah.” I glance down two overflowing bags dumped by the door. “You’re going to be an awesome mom, Anabelle. I’m sorry it’s sooner than you planned.”
I can’t meet her eyes, can’t do anything but stare at that stomach, nestled beneath that navy cotton T-shirt, bump proudly on display. Long hair down, falling around her left shoulder, thick and shiny.
My eyes drift to her breasts.
Her narrow waist, despite the expanding bump, and I would wager if she turned around, I wouldn’t be able to tell she was pregnant.
She’s checking me out, too, gaze skimming across my broad shoulders like she’s done a hundred times before, but this feels different.
“The semester has been good to you. You look good.”
“Do I? I feel like shit.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. I’ve done nothing but worry since I went back to Michigan. I didn’t know what you’d say when you saw me tonight, didn’t know if you’d tell me to go fuck myself or let me through the door. It’s been horrible.”
I wasn’t kidding when I said I almost threw up.
I had to stop a few times en route and dry heave out my driver’s side window. The closer I got to the house, the tighter the knots in my stomach pulled, a jumbled fucking mess.
“I will admit, when I opened the door tonight, it was like seeing a ghost.”
“You did look pretty pale.”
“I’m always pale,” she jokes.
And laughs, smiling, so big and wide it makes my fucking heart…race.
Jump. Leap. Skip.
“Anabelle.”
A grin. “Elliot.”
“I love you.”
Say you love me, too. Say it so my palms stop sweating and my heart stops palpitating, and I can catch my breath. Put me out of my goddamn misery, because I’ve been miserable the past few weeks without you.
Say it, I silently plead.
Please.
Finally, she does.
“I…I think I’ve loved you since you brought me home and I looked up from your bed and saw you standing in the doorway—that had to have been the moment. I was embarrassed, but I also knew you had a beautiful soul, and I looked like such shit.”
“You didn’t look like shit—you looked gorgeous.”
She rolls her big blue eyes. “You’re just saying that now because you love me.”
Maybe, or maybe she was thrown in my damn path so many goddamn times for a reason, which sounds crazy, but…
There it is.
The story of us.
“Do you want to take off your coat?” She interrupts my musing and I glance down at my puffy coat, brows raised. I hadn’t realized I was wearing my jacket because I was engrossed by one thing. Her.
“You’re okay with me staying?”
“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for months, Elliot. Months.”
“Then I’m staying.”
“Say that again.” Her sweet voice is a whisper.
“I’m staying,” I whisper back, reaching for her. “I love you and we are doing this.”
“We’re really doing this.”