Amelia

I’m so damn pissed at him that I feel like I could spit fire right now. He’s nothing more than an arrogant, good for nothing, sexy as sin piece of shit. If it weren't for the baby in my stomach right now, I’d crawl up his back and light into his head just for sheer principle. How dare he come in here and pretend to care about me, about us, and then as soon as the doctor leaves, arrange for his transportation out of here. I want to kill him right now.

“You don’t have to wait. Go ahead and go. I don’t need you.” I’m proud of the calm, steady voice I’m able to put forth while choking the tears back.

“No,” he replies crossing his arms across his chest.

“Excuse me? And why not? I haven’t needed you for the last six months, and I don’t need you now. So bye.” I choke on the tears threatening to fall, my breath hitching at the end of my speech. Shoving my arms through the sleeves of my dress, I pause to gather my composure before turning back to face him and find my shoes dangling from the tips of his fingers.

“I said no. I’m not leaving here without you. You may think you don’t need me, and hell, maybe you don’t, but that is my child you’re carrying, and until you give birth to her, you are not leaving my sight.”

“Bullshit.” I can't believe the balls on this man.

“Try me,” he replies calmly, with such certainty that I can't help but stare back at him, open mouthed.

His cellphone rings, and after a quick conversation, he leaves the room. I breathe a sigh of relief, hoping that I finally got through to him, but I should have known better. He returns minutes later with a wheelchair and my discharge paperwork.

“Sit,” he demands, and I think about ignoring him, but standing here for the last five minutes is taking its toll on me. My side is already hurting, and I want nothing more than to crawl in my bed at home. I sit in the chair, and I swear, I can almost feel his smug grin fill the room behind me.

It’s okay.

The first chance I get, I plan to pack my stuff and leave. I can grin and bear it until he leaves for the next game. Two, three days max. I just need to make sure not to let my heart get tangled up in this again. The only reason he is doing any of this is for the safety of his child, I remind myself. A child that he doesn’t even really want, and until a few hours ago, didn’t even know about.

I can handle this.

I just need to remain the same cold, impassive woman I’ve been for the last few months, and everything will be fine.

I couldn’t believe it when I found out I was pregnant. It was like a dream of mine had come true. I knew I would never be able to be with Cal again. His dream of being a professional football player didn’t line up with my dreams of a much simpler life, but that was okay because at least I would have a piece of him. The very best piece.

His daughter.

I’ve always wanted to be a wife and a mother more than anything in this world.

One out of two isn’t bad.

My job at Fontaine’s Design pays me well enough that I can support myself and Carson easily. I’ve been able to save quite a bit since I started there two months ago. I know having a baby and trying to start my career at the same time isn't the best idea, but this is the hand I was dealt and the one I will play through till the end.

I refuse to fold.

Even when I told my supervisor about the baby, I was met with nothing but support and excitement. The lead designer in the studio, Eve, even offered to send me back to school to get my degree in Architectural Design once the baby was born. Most of the work I did, I was able to do from home, only needing to come to the office to meet with a new client, like I was supposed to do today, or to turn in receipts and purchase orders for material.

Shit, I need to call the office and let them know why I didn't make it.

“Don’t worry, I already called and let them know,” Cal states while waiting for the elevator to arrive. It takes me longer than I'd like to admit to realize I spoke out loud, and then even longer to wonder how the hell he even knew who or where to call.

“Well, you see, that’s actually a funny story.” I turn in the wheelchair and look up at him waiting for him to continue, which he does after rolling me into the elevator and waiting for the doors to close.

“I was supposed to be meeting with the best modern interior designer at Fontaine’s today. My roommate, Griffin, was supposed to, but he got tied up with work and asked me to cover for him. Which was fine until I walked into the office and saw the plaque on the edge of the desk with your name on it. Then I just ran out the door and, conveniently enough, straight into the one person I was trying to avoid.”

At least now I know what he was doing at the pavilion. In a really screwed up way, I guess you could even say everything that had happened today was his fault. By default, just because he tried to run away from me.

“Trust me, I know.”

Dammit. I’ve got to stop speaking every damn thought that comes to my head out loud. There is so much pain in his voice that I can almost pretend he really cares, but how could he?

I didn’t even know Cal still lived in the area. Somehow, I pictured him in a giant house on the beach somewhere. Now that I think about it, I realize how stupid that idea was. Of course he still lives here. He was drafted by our state's professional team during his junior year of college.

It’s a miracle I hadn’t run into him before now.

“Can you climb in on your own, or do you need me to lift you?” He asks when we make it outside, and for a second, I’m struck silent at the thought of his hands on me, but then I see his smirk, and I realize he’s joking with me.

“I think I can manage,” I reply curtly, standing and climbing inside the sleek black Lexus. My body sinks into the soft leather seat, and I moan, running my hands across the smooth material. The man in the front driver’s seat glances at me in the rear view mirror. His eyes hold mine for a second, questioning, but before I have a chance to wonder too deeply about his look, Cal is climbing in next to me.

“To the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

He’s sitting so close to me that I can barely breathe. I try to scoot further away, but there is nowhere to go. I’m stuck between him and the car door.

“I’m not going to bite, Amie. Not unless you ask me to.” He teases, using my old nickname, and I’ll be damned if my whole body doesn’t respond to the unsolicited offer. My nipples perk up against the soft cotton of my dress and my palms clam up with perspiration. My God, how I wish I could take him up on that offer, but I can’t. It would only complicate things between us even worse.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” I reply in a surprisingly strong, sure voice. Five minutes in the car with him, and I’m already starting to question whether I’ll be able to go through with this. My heart is trying to beat out of my chest right now. I feel it thumping against the confines of my rib cage, demanding I let it loose.

Free it.

But I can’t. I can’t let him have it again. I can’t let him know the hold he still has on me because then he will want to be there for me and the baby, and his dream of playing ball will disappear.

Then again . . .

Maybe this time, I should learn from my past mistakes and give him a chance in the decision-making department. Hell, I could be over-thinking all of this for no reason at all. He might not even love me anymore. Maybe he has someone else. I could be heading to his house right now to meet his current girlfriend and not even know it. It would serve me right for letting him go. Someone as amazing as Callum Johnson didn’t stay single long. I know that.