24
When I return home and have all my dogs running to me, I can’t be happier.
“I missed you guys so much,” I tell them. “I hope you’ve behaved yourself for Auntie Erin, Kobe. Did you bite her clothes? I heard that you did.”
“He behaved for me,” Knuckles says, walking toward me. My eyes rise at his voice, surprise hitting me at his presence. I didn’t expect him to be here, but I’m not going to lie, he’s a sight for sore eyes. “They all did.”
He gives me a once-over, as if making sure I’m okay, his eyes eating me up.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him, scowling. “Where’s Erin?”
“Her mom had to go to the hospital, so she had to leave. I told her I’d stay here and look after the dogs until you got back,” he explains, moving so close to me that when I stand up his body is mere inches away from mine.
I stretch my neck back to look at his face. “Is Louise okay?” I ask him, instantly worried about my aunt. “I should call my dad to see if he knows.”
“She’s fine now, but she had a mini heart attack,” he explains, reaching out to tuck my hair back behind my ear. “You look tired. How was your run-away-from-Knuckles vacation?”
“Just what I needed,” I lie, stepping away from him. “And thank you for dogsitting, I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” he replies, and then goes and picks up my bag for me. “I’ll put this in your room, and then we’re gonna have a chat.”
I don’t say anything, but my jaw goes tight as he tries to boss me around. I probably would have found that hot before, but now I just want to throw something at him.
“Yes, sir,” I call out behind him. “Asshole.”
“I heard that!” he calls back.
“I don’t care,” I reply, marching into the kitchen and pouring myself a glass of juice. Because of my fine hosting skills, I also pour him one, but I don’t enjoy it. I decide to make the most of the sunny weather and take the drinks outside. The dogs start to run and play around the garden, and I sit down and watch them, waiting for Knuckles to return. I quickly send Erin and my dad a message, asking how Aunt Louise is. I wonder if I should do a trip down south to go see her, I know she would love that.
The chair next to me scrapes the ground as he pulls it back.
“You overreacted,” he announces as his opening line. “We should have just spoken about it and gotten over it. Everyone argues, Celina, but that doesn’t mean we end a relationship after the first one. It isn’t always smooth sailing, but you don’t run at the first sign of trouble.”
“I get that,” I tell him, speaking calmly. “I do. But you’re meant to fight clean, and keep the sex dirty, and you didn’t keep the argument clean. You made some jabs and said some things you can’t take back. Also, you didn’t let me speak. At all. You refused to hear what I had to say. You accused me, acted like I was guilty without even hearing my side of the story. In my book that isn’t just a fight. That’s the ending of a relationship.” I hold up my hand as he opens his mouth to say something.
“And if your MC is giving you shit for being with me, and you feel guilty about that because of the article, which was mainly trying to drag me down, by the way, then that still hasn’t changed. How can you be with me if you’re going to take it personally and feel guilty because you’re with a journalist? If you feel that way, I don’t think there’s anything we can do to fix that.”
“I shouldn’t have said some of the things I said, yes, I was angry and lost my shit, and I know that’s not an excuse it’s just an explanation,” he murmurs, watching the dogs as they roll around on the grass.
“You were angry, but I was upset too. It was my fault for even giving Tim the idea. But I swear it was going to be a good article. Focusing on the misconceptions. I should’ve told you, and I was wrong for not doing so. But I didn’t give consent for that article, and I felt like I’d been taken advantage of, used and betrayed, and yeah, I felt guilty too. I felt like shit that they published the article on you only because they knew I was at your clubhouse, but never ever did I intend to betray the club. And then I went to Jaxon Bentley, the lawyer, which is who you saw me with that day, to help me build a case against them, because I’m not going to let them win this. It’s all one giant clusterfuck,” I tell him, jaw going tight. “Forget the fact that I love you, Erin is a part of that club, and my family means everything to me.”
His head snaps to me, eyes pinning me in my place. “You love me?”
Oh fuck.
Yes, I love you, even though you’re a total caveman, and oh by the way, I’m also having your child.
“Yeah, I do,” I say with regret. “And it’s fucking inconvenient, and I don’t like the way you spoke to me, and I’m already building my walls up again, regretting the fact that I let you in, only for us to buckle at the very first obstacle. If this was a test, we failed. So even though I love you, tell me why I should let you back into my life again?”
Besides the baby.
Shit.
I have to tell him, I know I do, I just don’t know how to get the words out. I need to get it over and done with before he leaves.
He deserves to know, and honesty has always been our policy.
He pulls my chair closer to him, and waits until I look him in the eye. “Because I love you too, and I don’t want to give up on this when we only just found each other. This is new for me too, Celina, you aren’t the only one out of your comfort zone right now. I haven’t been in a relationship in years, and I can’t even describe what you make me feel. You make me crazy, and you make me want to wrap you up in Bubble Wrap so the world can’t fuckin’ hurt you, but then you’re you . . . You’re strong, independent, and you have that mouth on you . . . full of sass. Spirit. Loyalty. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted in an old lady.” He pauses, and then adds, “Well maybe not as stubborn, but I’ll take you just as you are.”
There’s no time like the present.
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out, keeping my eyes on him to see his reaction.
First, his eyes narrow to slits, his jaw getting tighter by the second.
He looks angry.
Why is he angry?
“Whose is it?” he asks me through clenched teeth, hands now fists.
Oh, that’s why.
I slap his shoulder. “Didn’t we just have the discussion about you listening to me and letting me talk before you get all Angry Asshole? It’s yours, asshole! I haven’t slept with anyone else. Did you get your sperm tested to make sure you’re sterile? Because I’m pregnant. A doctor did a pee test while I was on the cruise because I kept throwing up.”
“No, I didn’t get my sperm tested after, they never asked me to,” he replies, confusion written all over his expression. “Fucking hell, we’re having a baby? The girls are going to be so excited to hear this.”
“What do you mean they never asked you to? Isn’t it a known fact that you need to get tested after to make sure it worked?” I ask, calming down now that he seems to be taking it a little better.
“Well, who fucking cares now,” he replies, standing up and lifting me out of my chair. “Stop being angry, baby mama. Give me a kiss, I’ve fuckin’ missed you.”
“Call me baby mama again, and I’m going to kill you.”
He kisses me, ending my rant, and carries me to the couch, laying me down on it. “How do you feel? I mean, we never spoke about children. Did you even want kids?”
“We never spoke about it because we just met and you told me you couldn’t have any, so I didn’t even think it was going to be an option at any point,” I tell him, trying to think of how to reply to his questions. “I don’t know, to be honest. I guess I never thought I’d be very maternal, and I don’t know many kids; I haven’t been around them a lot.”
“But . . . ?” he prompts, running his fingers over my stomach, lifting my shirt up to show my bare skin.
“But now that I’m having one, I mean, I love him already, you know? Just like that. It’s instant. I love this baby and I’m going to do anything I have to to protect him.”
“Him?” he asks, kissing below my navel. “You think it’s going to be a boy?”
“I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “I guess in my head I’ve just been calling him a he. It’s better than calling him it.”
Brown eyes soften, and then he gives me the gentlest, sweetest kiss in the history of kisses.
“Maybe we could just see how we do? Like not make any promises, just see if we can make this work or not, without any pressure,” I suggest to him.
It’s safe this way.
“We can do that. I know what I want, but I’m more than happy to prove it to you,” he says.
“Okay, then it’s decided.”
I need to admit to myself that this is no romance novel, this is real life, and things aren’t always going to work out how I want them.
That doesn’t mean I can’t try to make it work though.
We’re going to clash, he’s going to be a caveman, and I’m going to be dramatic and call him out on it. But as long as we communicate, maybe we can make it work.
We’re going to have a baby. Goes to show, you just never know what life is going to throw at you, and sometimes all you can do is hold on for the ride.