Love Me Like That (39 page)

“What all does that entail?” I question.

“Buccal swabs. The testing center will swipe the inside mouth of the baby as well as the suspected fathers and the tests would be run from that.” He uses a couple paper towels to dry his hands and takes a step near the door. “Do we have your anatomy sonogram scheduled?”

“Yes, sir. Next week.” I answer.

“Very good,” he says with a gentle smile. “See you next month Ms. Sykes.” He nods his head at Jillian and exits the room.

“That was a tough conversation to have,” Jillian says as we get in my car outside the doctor’s office. “What are you going to do?”

I don’t hesitate. “I’m going to wait until the baby is born. Poor thing is already going to have enough of a hard life with only one parent. I don’t want to take the chance of complications just because Mom is a slut who doesn’t know who its father is.” I’m near tears. I’d thought I’d accepted the fact that the baby could be either Trent’s or Kadin’s but apparently I’m not even close to being over the shame from it.

“Stop that shit right now,” Jillian says harshly.

I sniffle and use a tissue from the console to dab at my eyes. “Sorry. I cry all the time.”

“Cry all you want. That’s not what I’m talking about.” She turns her body toward mine in the passenger seat. “There is no shame in the situation that you’re in. It’s not the most ideal, but it is far from unmanageable. Now dry your pretty face. We still have a half day of work at the office before the weekend starts.”

“You’re right.” I steel my spine and will my eyes to be clear and dry by the time we make it back to the office.

“Besides,” she says speaking for the first time since we pulled out of the parking lot at the doctor’s office. “Either one of those assholes should be honored to have knocked you up.”

I glare at her then nearly fold over in laughter. She knows just what to say and exactly when to say it.

I smile as I open the door to my office and see an outlandish vase of flowers on the corner of my desk. My assumptions are correct when I pluck the card that’s nestled in them and read the little note that Justin wrote on it.

Had a great time last night, hope to do it again soon.
It’s signed
Your
Friend
, J
.

I lean in close with a smile on my face and breathe the bouquet in. I’m not a flower person, and Trent only sent some on my birthday a few times, so I have no clue what half of them are but the reds, pinks, whites, and greens make for one stunning display.

“Wow,” I hear Jillian say from my door.

Suddenly a wave of uneasiness comes over me. “Jillian,” I sigh. “Did you send me flowers from him?”

She shakes her head no and walks up to smell them just like I did a moment ago. “I had nothing to do with this,” she says with astonishment. “But he did a damn fine job.”

She walks and leaves with that little tidbit.

I don’t know how Justin has been both patient and persistent at the same time, but he’s seemed to have perfected the combination. I can’t deny that I slept better after our date last night. I was happy that someone was willing to show me interest even though I now come with baggage. Both physically with the baby and emotionally with my past.

As wonderful as he is, he’s not Kadin. As much as I know he would work every day to make me happy, I don’t think I can be completely happy ever again. He needs to find someone who still has a heart to give away.

I sigh again and turn on my computer, hoping some work will push all thoughts of both Justin and Kadin out of my mind.

I’ve been here before. A feeling of unease sweeps through me as the fog glides around my ankles. I can almost remember what happens next, but the events seem blurry. Familiar yet oddly different at the same time. The trail I’m following in the woods opens up into a clearing filled with a slow moving fog. It clears just briefly enough to expose London’s beautiful face. She looks at me tenderly, and I follow her gaze down to her arms but can’t tell what she’s holding. When she looks up, I see a tear roll down her cheek, and she turns and disappears into the mist. The sound of a baby crying makes my heart stop and propels me into action at the same time. I search for her, but the fog is too thick, and my hands come back empty each and every time I reach out for her.

“London!” I sit upright in bed covered in sweat and barely able to catch my breath. I scrub at my face with my hands and try to wipe away the dread I feel in my stomach.

I’m no stranger to nightmares; I have them all the time. The one that has haunted me for months was with Savannah. This one with London and the sound of the baby crying is brand new and puts me on edge. I grab my cell phone from the table by the bed. Four in the morning; more than twelve hours before I’ll be able to see her. Twelve hours of nothing to do but drive me crazy.

A couple of hours later Kegan finds me on hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor. I’m determined to clean the house from top to bottom on the off chance she may want to come back here with me. The house was pretty damn clean to begin with, which Kegan pointed out, but at least it gave me something to do to pass the time.

The last hour before I left the house, I spent making room for her. The house is huge, so that’s not even an issue, but I made room for her in my space. I moved my clothes to one area of the closet; I cleared off one of the bedside tables, and I arranged things on the bathroom sink for the things I remember seeing on the sink at the condo. I can tell her all day long that I need her, but I want her to see truly that I have room in my life, in my heart, for her. I want her to know that I want her to fill all of the voids in my life; that I’m incomplete without her.

Kegan and I part ways on the front porch, ending with a back slap man hug and wishes for the best outcome. He assures me since I’m a Cole, I’ve got it in the bag. I hope with every atom of my being that he’s right.

Waiting in the parking lot is miserable. Knowing she’s less than a hundred yards away kills me as each second ticks by agonizingly slow. I hope she comes out alone because I won’t be able to refrain from approaching her if she tries to leave again with Justin Bland. I’m pleased to see her car parked in a different spot than it was yesterday; it leads me to believe that she actually went home last night rather than stayed with him. I had to realize and accept last night that I may not be fighting only against our pasts, along with my mistakes, but I may also be up against another man. The thought sits heavy in my already turning stomach.

Five o’clock rolls around and no one exits the building. I’m growing impatient by the second. What kind of man keeps his staff after five on a Friday? At five-fifteen the front door opens and a small group of people walks out, heading to the small parking area.

My heart stops just like it did yesterday at the sight of London. Watching Justin Bland walk her to her car with a hand at the small of her back enrages me. They get in separate cars but not before Justin leans in and places a kiss at her temple. I may be charged with murder if they end up at the same place. I watch as he leaves the parking lot, turning right. I breathe a sigh of relief when she turns left.

I’m in a company truck with no real identifiable features. It’s purposeful because I didn’t want her to recognize me and put herself in danger by trying to get away. I don’t think she’d do something like that, but she did leave with no warning and not so much as a note, so I didn’t want to take my chances.

I wait at a distance in the parking lot of a small grocery store for twenty minutes while she shops, resisting the urge to get out and help her load up her groceries when she’s done. The more I sit and watch her, the creepier I feel. I’m not trying to learn her routine; I just need to know where she lives. I can’t lose her again, and I’m afraid if I reach out to her at any place other than her home I may never see her again.

The grocery store appears to be her last stop, and I park on the street when she pulls into the driveway of an adorable cottage style house. The driveway is empty which leads me to believe that she either lives alone or is currently the only one here. My hope, of course, is for the former.

She doesn’t notice me as I make my way up the driveway. She’s huddled near the trunk of her little red car, grabbing groceries out of the trunk.

“London,” I say startling her so bad she swings around, and apples go rolling down the driveway.

“Kadin!” She gasps and brings her now empty hands protectively to her stomach.

I tried working out what I was going to say to her at this moment. I pondered over it for hours last night and again today while I did my best to keep busy. Standing before her right now, my mind is a complete blank other than the urge to sweep her in my arms and run my nose down the side of her neck.

We stand, just looking at each other. The first tendrils of anger at her leaving begin to creep in.

“You just left,” I say harshly.

I watch as her face changes from shock at my presence to anger.

“You went to go fuck your dead wife’s twin. Excuse me for not staying around to put up with that shit!” Leaving the hatch open on her car and the groceries inside, she turns and begins to storm away to the front of the house.

“London! Don’t walk away from me again.” She ignores me and continues walking into the house. This is not how I saw this going at all. “How can you walk away from me when you’re carrying my baby?” It’s an honest question. The last amount of venom in her words tell me why she left, something I’d been wondering about since the day it happened.

“I don’t know that!” She seethes as she turns around to face me.

What the fuck did she just say?

I watch as confusion and some other unnamed emotion, sadness maybe, sweeps over his face. I’m shocked that he’s here and more than a little excited, but I don’t know how to handle the barrage of feelings as they all collide with me all at once. I regretted the words the second they came out of my mouth and I’m terrified he will run, but it’s not relief washing over his face. From the fall of his mouth, he seems distraught at the possibility of the baby not being his.

“What are you saying?” he finally whispers.

“You want me to spell it out?” I ask with a tremble in my voice. I take his silence as a yes. “I conceived the weekend we met.”

“So it has to be mine,” he says. “We were drunk but I… we didn’t use… you fell asleep in my arms that night.”

A tear rolls down my cheek. “I woke up in Trent’s arms that morning.”

Understanding marks his already crestfallen face, and I want to sob when I see the slight tremor in his chin. He reaches out for the banister of the porch to steady himself, his eyes closing briefly.