Delilah
“Is your dad still trying to convince you to tell him who Junior’s dad is?”
I turn away from the mirror to look at my best friend, Brandon. We met in kindergarten and became tight right away. He’s been my rock through each bad relationship my mom has been in, and when I’d be stressed about my dad when he was overseas fighting. Then when he came out to me, I was his rock when he told his family.
When I moved here to be close to my dad, Brandon didn’t hesitate to come with me. And when four-and-a-half months ago I realized I’d missed two periods and was pregnant from my one and only one-night stand, he was there, and has been ever since. His green eyes gaze at me with a love that always warms me. His light-brown hair is coiffed perfectly, and he’s dressed in a fitted suit that shows off his lean frame. Black eyeglasses finish off the outfit and give him the hot, nerdy look.
“No, thank God. I don’t see what the point is. I never got his last name and he was here on business.” It had been the best night of my life, but when I woke the next morning, he was gone. No note…nothing.
“Well, I can’t wait to meet my nephew. He’s going to be the best-dressed baby out there.” I smile and walk into his waiting arms. “You know I’ll always be there for you. Even as your coach when you’re pushing him out.” He makes a disgusted face that makes me laugh.
“I know you will—that’s why this baby’s middle name is going to be Brandon.” He tears up the way he always does when I tell him that. He’s also going to be my son’s “fairy godfather,” or at least that’s what he’s calling himself.
When my dad first met him, he didn’t know what to make of him. Brandon is very flouncy and charismatic, and he loves laying it on thick sometimes. Now…well, now my dad, Mr. Big Bad Former Special Forces, loves him. I think it’s because my dad knows that Brandon keeps an eye on me. Hell, we keep an eye on each other.
“Does this look okay?” I signal to the form-fitting dress I’m wearing. My belly has popped out a lot in the last couple of weeks, but I’m not quite ready to start buying maternity clothes yet. The dress is emerald green with capped sleeves and a v-neck that shows off my ever-growing cleavage. My breasts have always been on the smaller side, but now they’re full. The dress hits me right above my knees.
“You look gorg. That color has always looked so great on you. Wear your hair up in a messy knot. Show off that rack.” He kisses my cheek and then leaves to get to his internship at the advertising agency where he hopes to work when he graduates.
I finish doing my hair and then slip a pair of heels on before grabbing my purse and heading out the door. It’s nice being close to the L train and not having far to walk. Luckily when I step on, there’s a seat that’s open. It normally takes about fifteen minutes to get to my stop, and while I wait, I pull out my phone, opening my Kindle app.
Reading romance is about the only romance for me these days. I’ve dated a little bit, but it never amounts to anything more than friendship. Plus, when they find out I’m pregnant, I pretty much become undesirable, like pregnancy is a disease or something.
The L approaches my stop and I stand up, holding on to the back of my seat. As soon as the doors open, I’m the first one out. I make my way down the stairs and to the street.
When I graduated from my online two-year college program with a degree in office management, my mom told me I was wasting my time and that it was a stupid choice. “You’re not smart enough to manage an office,” she said. Obviously, she enjoys making me feel like an idiot.
That’s why I moved to be by my dad, my biggest cheerleader. As soon as I graduated, he hired me to run his office. My dad is the best at what he does, but when I started, his office was a mess. It took me over a month to get everything cleaned up and organized.
I spent so many years separated from my dad, and now that we work together, I get to see him all the time. He knows what I dealt with living with my mom, and I know a part of him still feels guilty, but he was serving our country and I can’t be mad about that. When he got shot, I lost my shit. Especially since he was being treated overseas and I didn’t get to see him until he was finally back stateside.
When I found out I was pregnant, my mom screamed at me over the phone for two hours about how I was screwing my life up and I should abort it. Dad was upset, but got over it really quick when my morning, noon, and night sickness started freaking Brandon out and he called him.
For a month after my mom found out, she called me at least once a week asking if I’d had the abortion yet, and I’d just hang up on her. Finally, my dad got tired of seeing me so upset and told my mom that if she couldn’t be happy for me, or at least fake it, she didn’t need to bother calling.
That was two months ago, and I haven’t heard from her since. It hurts, but that’s what she loves doing—hurting me. Never physically, but she’s been the queen of emotional and mental pain for most of my life.
I enter the building and use my keycard to get on the elevator.
“Hey girlie, how are you feeling?” Carrie greets me. She’s two months further along than I am, and she and her husband are possibly the cutest couple I’ve seen.
“I’m good,” I tell her. “I actually feel great.”
“That dress looks so great on you. Your little belly is just the cutest.”
I smile and rub a hand over my tummy. “Thanks. I’m just not ready for a maternity wardrobe yet.”
“This little man likes to stretch his legs and poke me in the ribs.”
Since we’re both having boys, we’ve already decided they’re going to be best friends. I promise her we’ll have lunch later this week, then head toward the back and step inside my office. I’ve got HR stuff to do with a new employee today who also happens to be a friend of my dad’s. He’s currently out with Erik, the office flirt. He’s harmless, and I swear he only hits on me because it pisses my dad off.
Time to buckle down and get some work done before it’s time to do my HR gig.
Most of my morning is spent paying bills and setting up appointments for the guys. I love that part of my job is bossing around huge ex-military men. They listen, that’s for sure, and do what I say. Of course, it’s probably because they’re scared of my dad.
After stepping out for a quick sandwich that I eat on my way back to the office, I’m ready to meet the new guy. I grab the stack of papers and head down the hall to the conference room.
I give a knock, then open the door. He turns toward me, and I’m frozen in shock. “It’s you,” his deep voice rumbles.
Placing a protective hand over my belly, I don’t miss when his gaze slides down my body, stopping at my bump. He stands up and moves toward me. God, I forgot how big he is—so much taller than my five-foot-three frame. He rubs a hand over his head as he stands right in front of me.
I’ve yet to say anything, because what do I say to the man who gave me the best sex in my life, only for me to wake up and find him gone, leaving me with the greatest gift I’ve ever received? My mind immediately goes to that night six months ago.