Mad Addiction (Crazy Beautiful #2) (7 page)

He grins and looks like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t.

I stare up at him. “What?”

“Nothing. I like it.”

A nurse opens the door across from us. “Ms. Brooks? We’re ready for you.”

Ryan pushes himself off the wall and nods toward the doorway as he tries to contain a smile. “Come on, Sunshine.” He still looks adorably amused, and the fact I think he’s cute makes me want to throw up.

I choose instead to roll my eyes and slam the clipboard into his chest as I breeze past.

The nurse looks at Ryan and then to me before hesitantly asking, “Would you like your . . . husband to join?”

I look at Ryan who just gives me a shit-eating grin. The hot bastard is enjoying this.

I smile sweetly at the nurse. “Sure. But he’s not my husband. He’s just the sperm donor.” The nurse looks uncomfortable and confused. Ryan flashes her a charming smile as she leads us into exam room three.

The nurse grabs a paper gown and places it on the exam table. “You can remove your pants and underwear and drape this over your lap.” I stare at the gown. I thought they’d only need to see my stomach? As if sensing my hesitancy, she explains, “A transvaginal ultrasound gives us a clearer picture this early on.” She lets us know the doctor will be in soon and closes the door behind her as she leaves.

I grab the gown and stare at Ryan, who makes no move to leave. I give him a look.

He eyes me from head to toe. “What? It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“And it’s nothing you’re ever going to see again.” I twist my index finger to indicate he needs to turn around. He grunts, but obeys.

Once I’m finished, Ryan and I wait in the small room without saying anything else. He looks skeptically at the speculum sitting on the counter while I try to get comfortable, the stupid paper coverings making obnoxiously loud crinkling sounds.

After what feels like hours, there is finally a knock at the door before the doctor walks in, introducing herself. “Hi Kelley, I’m Doctor Conners. Let’s see what we’ve got going on in here, shall we?” She points to my stomach, smiling at both Ryan and I excitedly.

Glancing at my chart, she starts to go over some of my information, confirming things like my age, the fact I don’t smoke, and the date of my last period. Ryan smirks, enjoying this way too much, and just when I think the personal questions are over, Dr. Conners studies the chart more closely. “And I see here that you had a miscarriage about seven years ago?” Her voice gets soft and she looks at me sympathetically. Ryan’s smile immediately fades. I’m not sure how to read the expression that passes over his features, so I avoid eye contact and simply nod.

Thankfully Dr. Conners doesn’t ask anything else, and proceeds to wash her hands, put on a pair of gloves, and grab a bottle of gel from the counter. She motions for Ryan to stand beside me and has me scoot down as she lifts a wand attached to a cord, slathers on some lube, and ducks her hand under the drape. She fiddles with a few knobs on the cart next to her with her free hand, adjusting a small screen so that both Ryan and I can see.

After a few painfully long, silent moments a black and white blob flickers onto the screen. It looks like nothing but splotchy shadows, but it instantly captivates me. Ryan shifts closer to get a better look.

It’s in this moment that I feel an odd mixture of joy and sadness. Up until now this life inside me felt somewhat abstract or intangible, like the doctor might say,
“Pregnant? No way. You just need to lay off the cheeseburgers.”
But now I see, in plain black and white, just how real this really is. Jake and I never got to see an ultrasound before I lost the baby, and I realize that may have been for the best. I’m overcome by such a sense of wonder that I am now solely responsible for growing, raising, and protecting an entire person that I’m terrified by the thought something bad might happen. And when I realize just how lonely it will be not to have someone who loves me to share this with, I feel a sharp sting in my throat.

I feel Ryan’s fingers brush against my shoulder. The way he drapes his arm over the back of the table is so damn casual it might be accidental, but I’m grateful for the contact. It brings me back to the present moment so I can focus on what Dr. Conners is saying.

“Hope you don’t mind a Spring baby. It looks like you’re due May 9th. Everything else is looking good so far, so we’ll schedule you for your next appointment in about five to six weeks.” She removes the wand and her gloves before handing Ryan and I each a small, printed picture. I see Ryan casually slip his into his back pocket. The doctor lets me know I can get changed before she exits the room. Ryan pauses before gesturing toward the door. “I guess I’ll wait for you out there.”

I nod, and once he leaves I allow myself a brief moment to stare at the picture in my hand. I wipe a single tear that’s slid down my cheek before tucking the photo into my purse and standing to get dressed.

Ryan

T
he drive back to Kelley’s place is quiet. I put the car in park and, without saying anything, open the passenger door and follow her into the building. Once inside her apartment she puts her keys and bag on the kitchen counter as I lean against the opposite side.

Neither of us know what to say, so I decide to break the ice. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

Kelley lets out a deep breath, not needing an explanation of what I’m talking about. “What’s the point? It was a long time ago.”

I can tell she has so much sadness pent up inside her that I should drop it, but I fucking want to know more. “Is that why you haven’t had a relationship all this time?”

She hangs her head, looking ashamed. “No. Not exactly.”

Jesus, this is like pulling fucking teeth. “Is it why you and your ex broke up?” A disgusting thought flashes through my mind. “Did he fucking hurt you?”

She looks at me, no doubt surprised by my lack of tact. But some sick feeling in the pit of my stomach has it twisting in knots, so I need to know what happened. I don’t know if it’s because I actually like this chick as a friend, or because I just saw my kid in her uterus, but I am overcome with such a fierce sense of protectiveness I’m ready to beat the ever living shit out of anyone that’s touched her. Thankfully she relieves my worst fears. “No, Jake never hurt me. Not physically, anyway. He and I were over long before the baby; I just didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t right for me and I knew it. Fate knew it, too.”

She whispers that last part and I want to shake her. What the fuck does fate have to do with it? Does she really believe she was being punished or some shit? “You really believe fate had any goddamn say in what happened?”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying I wasn’t honest with myself—or Jake—about our relationship back then and everything went to hell. I know I’m never going to make that mistake again, which is why I want us to know where we stand with each other.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, so we’re both quiet again before Kelley stands up straighter and clears her throat. “I’ve been thinking about what we should do, and I don’t think we have to tell anyone you’re the father.”

Back to this. I fix her with a hard stare. “I thought I made it clear I’m not going anywhere.”

She looks uncharacteristically nervous and refuses to make eye contact. “I’m not saying you can’t be involved somehow, I’m just saying other people don’t have to know about it.”

“I’m not going to keep the fact that this baby is mine a big fucking secret. Weren’t you the one just talking about being honest?” I can’t help but let my past experiences with lies and abandonment and keeping shit hidden get the better of me. I’m not the type of guy to shirk his responsibilities, but even I didn’t expect to feel such an innate sense of pride as soon as I saw that tiny blob on the screen. I may not know how to be a father, but I’m sure as hell going to try and figure it out.

Kelley regains her composure. “I’m just saying it might look bad—for both of us—if we admit we let this happen. I’m not thrilled about people knowing I’m pregnant to begin with, let alone who I screwed. It’s not so much a lie as keeping our business private.” When I refuse to break our gaze, she shrugs, defeated. “Come on Ry, you have to know what people will say about me if they knew. Everyone knows you’ve made it perfectly clear you don’t do commitments or relationships so I’ll just end up looking pathetic. I mean I’ve already ruined my shot at finding love anytime soon, but if I have any sort of hope for a future husband I don’t want to have to explain I was stupid enough to get pregnant from a one night stand with the town’s most unavailable bachelor. And I don’t want our kid to grow up confused or teased, either. Since we’re not together, it will be easier to keep our lives separate.”

She looks sad and embarrassed, and fuck, it makes me feel like a complete and utter jackass. I know how hard I’ve worked to be open and clear about my relationships—or my intentional rejection of them—but Kelley shouldn’t have to suffer because of that. If we keep this a secret I might get off easy, but she can’t exactly hide her condition forever. She’s not the kind of girl to act irresponsibly, and it’s partially my fault for convincing her to loosen up in the first place.

Plus the thought of any other guy near her—near my kid—makes me feel a very fucking strange sense of jealousy.

Lucas’ words about doing the right thing collide with the memory of my dad walking out, and before I have time to think I blurt, “What if we tell people we’re engaged?” As soon as the words come out I wish I could take them right fucking back.
Shit! Blake, you are a stupid fucking asshole.

She looks as stunned as I feel at hearing the words explode like a fucking bomb from my mouth.

“What?” she asks, genuinely confused.

I shrug as if it’s the easiest, most logical thing in the world, not letting on how much I doubt the shit I’m about to spew. “If we tell people we’re together, it won’t appear so reckless.”

She contemplates this before slowly clarifying. “So you’re saying we should pretend we’re getting married and that’s why we’re having this baby? What was that about not wanting to lie?”

Now she sounds amused, and maybe somewhat intrigued. I smirk, despite feeling like a hypocritical douchebag. I’m sure as fuck not thrilled about lying, but at this point it seems like the best way to protect us all. I can already feel the fucking judgment of everyone thinking I’m just a deadbeat like my father who abandons his kid, nevermind the hell there’d be to pay if my mother knew I got a girl I barely know pregnant. Clearly she has a sore spot when it comes to irresponsible men who walk away from their problems. Forget the fact I’ve turned my life around and made something of myself—this would be all it takes for her to assume I’m just an asshole like my dad. Like father, like son, right? The fact I still even care one tiny bit about what that woman thinks makes me want to put my fist through a wall. The irony that I’m going to be just like her, lying to keep up appearances to gain the approval of others, is not lost on me. Except I’m doing this to protect my child, not to ignore it. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Besides, like you said it’s our business, so what the fuck does it matter if we decide to keep the truth to ourselves? This is about doing what’s right for us and the baby and it’s nobody else’s goddamn business.”

Kelley shakes her head. “You’re crazy, you know that. We already drive each other mad. And what happens down the road? I mean eventually the truth will have to come out.”

I know she’s right, but I can tell the idea appeals to her. Hell, I’m not sure how it will all work, but I know I refuse to come off as a dick abandoning his kid and I also know I don’t want Kelley to go through this alone. If this will keep us both from looking careless, it’s a win-win.

I lean against the counter, trying to explain. “Look, we might be coming at this for different reasons, but the fact remains that neither of us wants to look irresponsible. I don’t want to come off as a douche just as much as you don’t want to come off as a slut. Plus you’re probably going to need help over the next few months, so we’ll just tell people we fell madly in love, are getting married, and starting a big happy friggin’ family. It will buy us some time to figure our shit out and after the baby is born and things settle we can stage a breakup. We’ll say it didn’t work out, but by that point we’ll have established we were at least serious about each other when this happened so it won’t seem so bad. Then I can still be in our kid’s life without any questions.” I nod confidently, trying to convey how rational this can be.