“Like I said,” he whispered, “I wasn’t going to do this yet, but…” He hesitated for a second, then slowly went to one knee, and when he raised his hand, the modest diamond sparkled in the light of my parents’ foyer. “Amy, will you marry me?”
I struggled just to find some air, and when I finally did, I whispered, “Yes, of course I will.”
Dustin smiled, and from the visible release of tension in his shoulders, I wondered just how nervous he’d been about asking. He took my left hand, and we both had trouble keeping our hands steady as he slipped the ring onto my third finger. Then he stood and kissed me lightly.
“Yay!” My sister squealed, clapping her hands like an excited kid. “My baby sister’s engaged!” As soon as Dustin let me go, Mariah threw her arms around me. “I’m so happy for you, sweetie.”
“Thank you,” I said, still stunned. As my sister released me, I eyed her. “So were you in on this or something?”
She put up her hands. “I swear to God, I had
no
idea.”
“She didn’t.” Dustin tried and failed to glare at her. “Way to put me on the spot, there.”
Mariah stifled a giggle. “Well, now you don’t have to be nervous about it, right?”
“She’s got a point,” I said.
“Hey, whose side are you on here?” he asked. “Mine or your archenemy over there?”
I thumbed my chin and glanced back and forth between the two of them. “Sorry, Mariah.” I slid my arm around Dustin’s waist. “The man with the diamond wins.”
She huffed dramatically, and Dustin gave a triumphant laugh.
“You kids.” Mom clicked her tongue and shook her head. Then she hugged Dustin. “You sure you know what you’re getting into?”
“Well, you know what they say about birds of a feather,” Dustin said.
As Mom released him, she rolled her eyes. “Oh joy. Just what this family needs. Another smart aleck.”
Dad chuckled and extended his hand to Dustin. “Welcome to the family, son.”
“Thanks,” Dustin said as he shook Dad’s hand.
“Now let’s see the ring,” Dena said. “Come on, show us.”
“Oh, yeah,” Mariah said. “Let’s see what kind of taste Mr. King has.”
I held out my left hand. As my niece and sister inspected it, I looked up at Dustin and smiled.
He put his arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. “I love you,” he whispered in my ear.
“I love you too,” I said, and lifted my chin so he could kiss me properly.
So maybe I had gone off the deep end last year. Maybe everyone was right to think I’d gone crazy for a little while. But somewhere off that deep end and at the end of a long, bumpy road, I’d found myself again.
I’d found the joy I thought I’d lost in horses.
I’d found the love of my life.
And I was finally happy again.
About the Author
Lauren Gallagher is an abnormal romance writer who spent three years on Okinawa, but was then deported to Omaha, Nebraska. Her cover story is that she, her husband, their two cats, and their fluorescent green hedgehog were transferred because of the Navy. Skeptics say this was actually a strategic move to get closer to her arch nemesis, M/M erotic romance author L. A. Witt.
Website:
www.loriawitt.com
Blog:
gallagherwitt.blogspot.com
Twitter:
@GallagherWitt
Look for these titles by Lauren Gallagher
Now Available:
Who’s Your Daddy?
Writing as L. A. Witt:
Nine-tenths of the Law
The Distance Between Us
A.J.’s Angel
Out of Focus
The Closer You Get
Conduct Unbecoming
Tooth & Claw
The Given & the Taken
The Healing & the Dying
Everyone’s bringing baggage to this baby shower.
Who’s Your Daddy
© 2012 Lauren Gallagher
After her divorce, Carmen James is still trying to get back on her feet when fate pulls the rug out from under her. She’s pregnant—and she’s not sure who’s the father. Just one more thing for her impossible-to-please family to worry about. On the bright side, there are only two candidates: her best friend, Donovan, and Isaac. His boyfriend.
A little too much wine and the desire to comfort lead Donovan and Isaac to a night they both hope Carmen doesn’t regret. When she drops the bomb, though, Donovan’s plate, already crowded with a teenage son and a disapproving father, gets fuller.
And Isaac, who’s still coming to terms with his bisexuality, wonders how he’ll handle fatherhood at forty.
Above all, both men worry that whatever the answer to the ultimate question—which of them got her pregnant—it will forever alter their longstanding friendship with Carmen. While they’re waiting for that answer, though, continuing their casual sexual relationship with her feels natural. But when emotions get involved, the cracks in their logic threaten to drive Isaac, Don and Carmen apart just when they need each other the most.
Warning: This book contains three people in one hell of a pickle (anyone have any ice cream?), parents who suck at parenthood, parents-to-be who think they’ll suck at parenthood, a relationship-friendship-sexual-kind-of-thing that keeps getting more complicated, and a Chuck Norris joke.
Enjoy the following excerpt for
Who’s Your Daddy:
I’d asked Angela to send Carmen back to my office when she came in, so when the gentle knock came at one o’clock sharp, I knew it was her. With my heart in my throat, I went to the door and pulled it open.
Some women could get away with never bothering to wear makeup, and Carmen was one of them. Her fair skin contrasted flawlessly with her lips and her nearly black eyes. My sister had met her a year or two ago, and to this day swore she’d sell her soul for eyelashes like Carmen’s.
Today, Carmen’s long, dark brown hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail, a few strands falling beside her face and reminding me of the way she’d looked when Donovan had grabbed her hair last time, and there went my neutral, professional, platonic approach to this conversation.
I muffled a cough and forced a smile. “Hey, stranger.”
“Hey,” she said with a shy smile and quickly broken eye contact.
That wasn’t a good sign.
“It’s, um, it’s good to see you. Been a while.”
She met my eyes again. “Good to see you too.” We exchanged a quick hug before I stepped aside to let her in.
We lingered by the door for a minute, alternately meeting each other’s eyes and looking away like a couple of uncertain teenagers. And even though I couldn’t hold her gaze for very long, nor could she hold mine, I did sneak a few surreptitious looks at her.
Maybe I just saw her in a different light now that I’d seen her undressed, but God
damn
it, she looked good. She always had, but evidently sleeping with her had made me that much more aware of it. She was beautifully curvy, the kind of woman whose hips just begged for a man’s hands on them. Now that I’d held them in my hands, I desperately wanted to again. How the hell had I ever thought I was one hundred percent gay? Women didn’t usually register on my radar, but when they did, especially this woman, the attraction was strong to say the least.
I’d seen that blouse before, its modest neckline showing off just the most mouthwatering hint of her collarbones.
I know what her skin tastes like there,
I thought with a shiver. Maybe it was just my perspective being skewed by the knowledge of what was beneath her clothes, but I didn’t recall her filling out the top of her blouse like that before.
Say the word, Carmen. Just say the word
.
Clearing my throat, I gestured for her to follow me to the area where I sat with my clients.
“This is all I’ve got.” I nodded at the couch and armchairs. “I hope it doesn’t feel too much like you’re my client or something.”
Carmen laughed. “It’s okay, I’ll manage.” She took a seat on the couch and pulled her legs up under her.
Usually, I’d sit in one of the armchairs, but that made me feel too much like this was a therapy session, so I sat on the couch instead, leaving half a cushion or so of breathing room between us.
“So, what’s up?” I asked.
Carmen wrung her hands. Taking a deep, ragged breath, she stared at the floor in front of the sofa instead of looking at me.
The counselor in me knew a million ways to gently coax an answer out of someone. The friend knew when to put a platonic arm around her or touch her hand. The man who’d slept with her…didn’t know where the lines were anymore.
I swallowed hard. “Carmen?”
“I…” Her cheek rippled as if she’d clenched her jaw. Then, all at once, her shoulders dropped, and she released a breath that came out as a sob. “Fuck, Isaac, I’m…”
“What’s wrong?” I moved closer to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. “Carmen, talk to me, sweetheart.”
She covered her eyes with a trembling hand, and my blood turned cold. She sniffed. I thought she shuddered but quickly realized it was another barely stifled sob. My heart pounded. I’d never seen this woman cry. Ever. And no matter how much she apparently tried to keep me from seeing it now, she couldn’t quite contain her emotions.
I kept one arm around her and reached up with the other to gently brush a tear from her cheek. We’d always been physically affectionate in a platonic way, and sitting like this now almost felt awkward. Like we shouldn’t have been this close now that we’d been
that
close. But whatever we’d done, she was still my friend, and I wasn’t about to push her away, especially not if she was in this puzzling and alarming state.
“What’s wrong?” I asked again.
She sniffed and looked away. “Fuck, I told myself I wouldn’t do this.” She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes, cursing softly.
“It’s okay.” Guilt twisted in my gut. This had to be about the threesome, and I’d had no idea it bothered her
this
much. I swallowed hard. “Is this about…that night? At our place?”
She winced and dropped her gaze, sending my heart into my feet. Then she gave a slow, subtle nod.
“Which part?” I asked. “I mean, if you’re wondering if we thought it was a mistake, we don’t. Neither of us regrets it.”
“It’s not that,” she whispered, and a smile tried halfheartedly to come to life. “I enjoyed it, believe me.”
Well, that was something, but…
“So, what is it?” I asked.
Carmen moistened her lips. When her tear-filled eyes met mine, it was one of those unnerving moments in my life when time ground to a halt for a few nerve-racking seconds, and I had absolutely no idea what was about to happen.
Finally, she spoke. “I’m pregnant.”
The air in my lungs turned to lead, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. Had I been standing, my knees would have buckled as I stared at her, lips parted and eyes wide. When I could finally convince enough air to move to allow me to speak, I said, “Are you…”
Serious? Joking? Come on, Isaac, she wouldn’t joke about that
. “…sure?”
She nodded slowly.
Holy. Fucking. Shit
.
Carmen broke eye contact and exhaled. “I’m so sorry, Isaac, this is…it’s…”
“Don’t apologize.” I stroked her hair. “We were just as much a part of this as you were.”
“Well, one of you, anyway,” she said dryly.
My hand stopped. Our eyes met again. The shock hadn’t yet worn off, and up until she’d said that, I hadn’t gotten that far yet.
Carmen wiped her eyes again and looked away. “Jesus, I can’t believe I didn’t even think to use condoms.”
“No kidding.” The words came out as little more than a hollow whisper.
Taut silence hung in the air. What was someone supposed to say? The marriage counselor in me probably knew what to say, but the man who’d just found out his best friend was carrying either his or his boyfriend’s baby was, to say the least, at a loss for words.
And how the hell
did
we forget to use condoms? There was no doubt we were all pretty well trashed, especially if it even slipped Donovan’s mind. He’d already become a father at an inopportune time once in his life; it wasn’t something he took lightly. It wasn’t something any of us took lightly.
I’d used protection in my single days, of course, but I’d been with Donovan so long it hadn’t crossed my mind in years. And getting someone pregnant had just…it hadn’t been something I’d ever had to consider when I was having sex. That night, it had just happened. Unplanned, unanticipated, without any second thoughts. And we were drunk and horny and…
Here we were.
Danger comes packaged in bulging muscles…and a codpiece.
The World is a Stage
© 2012 Tamara Morgan