His words hurt, but I knew I was asking a lot of him. My eyes burned with unshed tears of gratitude. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded again. “I’ll take the sofa. You and the baby take the bedroom.”
It wasn’t lost on me that he couldn’t bring himself to call her by her name.
Poor Dillon
. This had to be such a shock for him. I felt bad, but not bad enough to not make him go through with the test. Quickly, before he could change his mind, I carried Amelia into the bedroom and placed her in the middle of the bed. Scooting back into the living room, I grabbed the diaper bag and backpack that carried our clothes. Then I hurried back into the bedroom and closed the door behind me.
Step one accomplished.
The rest of the night I hunkered down in Dillon’s bedroom. I wasn’t about to poke the bear. At one point, I heard the front door open and close and Dillon talking to Brutus. A familiar jingling noise let me know he had found Brutus’s things in the car. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep in his bed, surrounded by his comforting, masculine scent. I woke a few times in the night. Once because Amelia needed to eat, the other with that damned throbbing ache between my legs. Ten months was a long time to go without sex. The doctor told me my hormones would settle down after Amelia was born. Needless to say, I was still waiting for that to happen. I almost went to the bathroom to take care of it, but decided that was probably a bad idea. Eventually, I drifted back to sleep.
Morning arrived quickly and, before I knew it, we were up and on our way to the lab. Once there, the technician informed us that blood was the fastest and most effective way to prove paternity. I teared up when they pricked the bottom of Amelia’s heel to get the sample. I could tell Dillon didn’t like it any better, as he tensed up and left the room when she let out a wail of pain.
As soon as the nurse was done with Amelia, it was Dillon’s turn to give blood. During the process we learned it could take up to ten days to get the results.
It could take up to ten days before I knew whether or not I was going to have to fight to keep my child
. In my gut, I felt Dillon was the father. It was too bad, with a head full of black hair and deep blue eyes, Amelia looked just like me and nothing like either Dillon or Jimmy. I quickly erased the thought of Jimmy being her father from my head.
No use going there until I have to.
The doctor said her eyes might not change until she was five months old and who knew whether or not her hair would remain black like mine. I didn’t want her to have a childhood like mine. I didn’t want her to experience a life filled with uncertainty. I wanted stability for her.
Please don’t let Jimmy be her father.
“Whatcha thinking?” Dillon asked on our way home. We decided to take my car because of the car seat. Dillon, macho guy that he was, wouldn’t let me drive.
“I don’t want Amelia to have a childhood like mine,” I told him straight out.
His hands tensed on the steering wheel. “That bad?”
“Yes,” I sighed, “Worse.”
“If it makes you feel any better, mine wasn’t all that great either,” he shared. I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I didn’t. A few seconds passed and I felt his eyes on me. When our eyes met, he asked, “How long until you have to do the thing with your tits again?”
I rudely snorted and his mouth slowly turned up into a sexy-as-hell smile. The man was something to see, but when he smiled, he was pure yumminess. “You mean feed the baby?” I asked, trying not to laugh. “You make it sound like some sort of sideshow act or something.”
His eyes dropped to my breasts before returning to the road in front of us. “Oh, it was something all right,” he responded.
Secretly pleased he still found me attractive, I rolled my eyes. “We should be good for another hour or so.”
He nodded and then proceeded to take us to a little ice cream shop where he bought me a scoop of homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream. On the way home, Amelia started to fret. Dillon simply turned on the radio and played with the dial until it landed on
Stay
, by Sugarland. Sad country songs aren’t usually my thing. Apparently Amelia dug them because the second Jennifer Nettles started in on the chorus she stopped crying. Words of love, loss and loneliness surrounded us, and suddenly I had to ask.
“What made you come back for me?”
A frown appeared on his face and his beautiful eyes clouded over. Focusing intently on the road in front of us, he turned up the music and acted as if I never asked the question. I wanted to take it back but couldn’t. When we got upstairs to the apartment, he said he had stuff to do. I carried Amelia, who was fretting again, into the bedroom and got us both ready for her to nurse. Dillon came in and out a few times while I was doing this, but he never once looked in our direction. Right as I pulled Amelia to my breast he told me he was going to go to the gym and then straight to work, that I shouldn’t count on seeing him until late.
Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
I spent the night cleaning up Dillon’s disgusting apartment and doing his laundry. I felt it was the least I could do. The second my head hit the pillow, I was out. The next morning, I heard him rustling around in the kitchen. Throwing on one of his clean shirts, I left Amelia sleeping on the bed and made my way out to the kitchen. Dillon was already dressed in jeans and a form fitting black Nirvana T.
“Nice shirt,” he said, handing me a cup of coffee.
I gave him a sheepish grin. “It was the closest thing to me. I can go change, if it bothers you.”
“Naw, I’m good. I’m out of here anyway.” At my questioning look, he said he had inventory at the bar and to not expect to see him around until it was over. When I asked when he expected that to be, he just shrugged. Then he explained how he had bought groceries before coming home last night and to call if I needed anything. Before I could ask anything else, he was out the door.
Three days later I was beyond frustrated. I had seen Dillon all of thirty minutes and twenty of those, he’d spent on the phone with his brother. Talk about shutting someone out. How was I supposed to get back in if I never saw him?
Did I even want back in?
I wasn’t sure. Dillon Whitaker could be one cold man.
I was about to make a sandwich for lunch when I heard a knock at the door. Amelia had just nursed and was passed out smack in the middle of Dillon’s huge bed. Brutus gave a half woof from the living room. Before he unleashed a torrent of noise and woke up the baby, I sprinted out of the bedroom, across the living room and flung open the front door. A cute redheaded woman shot past me, acting as if she was being chased by the devil himself. I watched her jump up and down in what appeared to be some new twerking type dance. Not sure what to do, I just stood there staring at her. Brutus, on the other hand, decided to join in on the fun by nuzzling her crotch. Letting out a squeal of surprise, she squatted down, flung her arms around his neck and started kissing his big black nose. Seeming happy with this result, he flopped onto the floor and gave her sandaled foot a big swipe with his tongue. I glared at him.
So much for owning a protective dog.
“What is he?” the redhead squealed. I wanted to tell her to keep her voice down, but thought that might be rude.
“A dog?” I half-questioned, half-answered.
Had she never seen a dog before?
She let out a dramatic gasp and whispered, “No shit? So that’s what a dog looks like. I’ve always wondered.” The expression of awe on her face was rather disturbing.
Who in the world has never heard of a dog before?
I was wondering who this nutty-as-a-fruitcake person was I had just willy-nilly let into Dillon’s home, when she burst into gales of laughter. “The expression on your face is…priceless!” she hee-hawed.
“Ummmm,” was all I could manage to say. Who was this odd person?
“I wasn’t asking what he was, as in
what
he was, silly. I wanted to know what breed,” she managed to say through her giggles.
“Oh, sorry,” I snorted, “He’s a mastiff-lab mix.”
“Gage would love him!” she squealed.
“Gage?”
“My fiancé,” she said, holding up her hand to show off the honking diamond ring on her finger.
I didn’t want to be rude, but I had stuff to do. Assuming she was a friend of Dillon’s, I said, “Dillon’s not here right now.”
“I know. I just left him at the bar. He thinks I have cramps.” I had no clue what to say to this. “Oh!” she loudly yelled, causing Brutus to woof and me to jump. “Dumb ass me! I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Piper O’Connell. Dillon and I work together at Dragonfly and you, my dear, are the reason he has been acting all out of sorts the past few days.” Before I could get a word in, she continued. “I saw you walk into the bar the other night. I probably wouldn’t have noticed, but being that it was a private party, everyone saw you walk in.” I gave myself an imaginary smack in the forehead.
Great timing as usual, Isabella.
“Anyway, my best friend, Ellie and I put two and two together.” She took a deep breath and stared at me.
I stared back. Of course Amelia would pick that second to squawk like a baby bird calling out to its mommy. Before I could make a move, Piper gasped and took off for the bedroom.
Jeeze the girl is fast,
I thought, as I sprinted after. Right as she hit the door, she put on the brakes and I had to swerve down the hall to keep from mowing her over.
“Holy shit…a baby!” she exclaimed.
Momma bear instincts roared through me. Before she went all Roadrunner on me again, I brushed past her and swooped down on Amelia. “Hey baby girl,” I cooed. Once I had Amelia settled in my arms, I turned and asked, “Who are you, again?”
For the next hour, Piper told me a little bit about herself and the dynamics of Dillon’s group of friends, while, of course, holding Amelia.
The girl was tenacious
. When it was my turn to talk, I told her as much as I felt comfortable saying. I told her Dillon and I were ‘old friends’ from Charleston and I was just visiting for the week. Before I knew it, we were chatting like we’d known each other for years. Dillon was lucky to be surrounded by such great people. I only had Sally and my uncle. At some point, Piper’s phone rang. The poor girl spent over ten minutes convincing her fiancé she was safe. I knew all too well what a domineering boyfriend was about.
Cut your losses and run,
I wanted to tell her, but didn’t.
Right before leaving, Piper invited me to a pot luck dinner they were having at some guy named Max’s garage tonight. It sounded fun but…questionable
. I mean, who eats dinner at a gas station?
Before I could say yes or no, she grabbed my phone and punched in her number. She said she’d call me with details later and, in a flash she was gone.
I spent the next thirty minutes processing Piper O’Connell while feeding Amelia. This got me thinking about how Dillon was avoiding us. Obviously he wasn’t interested in spending any time with us. This led to my decision to take Piper up on her offer.
“It looks as if we are going to a gas station party tonight sweet girl. Mommy needs to get to the grocery store so she can make her famous artichoke parmesan dip.” Amelia gurgled and I smiled. This was all I needed in the world to get by.
Who wants a sexy, but ice cold man anyway? Not me. Norsiree….I just need my kid and my dog. That’s it.
After changing Amelia’s diaper and taking Boo out to pee, I left Dillon a note and headed to the grocery for ingredients. When we got back, his jeep was in the drive.
Finally, he’s home.
Amelia was out like a light, so I quietly lifted her car seat from the car and carried her into the apartment. I could hear Dillon’s shower running, so I left her outside the kitchen in her bucket. “Watch her,” I whispered to Brutus, and smiled when he protectively flopped down onto the floor next to her. Quickly, I made my way back out to the car and grabbed the groceries. When I got back in, the shower was off.
Good, we’ll get a chance to talk before the party.
After prepping the dip, I turned on the oven to preheat and realized Dillon hadn’t appeared yet.
Where is he?
Quietly, so as not to wake Amelia, I headed back to the bedroom to check on him. His door was slightly ajar and I peered inside to make sure he was decent before barging in. At first I couldn’t make out what was happening. When it hit my brain, I stepped back and covered my hand over my mouth.
Oh my
.
I stared at the door for a second, debating what to do. Not able to help myself, I stepped back up and peered inside. Dillon was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, knees drawn up and spread wide enough apart for me to see it all.
Boy was there a lot to see.
Both of his feet were planted firmly on the mattress and his hips moved up and down as he stroked his rigidly hard cock in and out of his fisted hand. His head rested back against the headboard and I couldn’t see his face. I wanted, no
needed,
to see his face as he pleasured himself. In the back of my mind, I knew it was wrong to watch but nothing…I mean nothing…could make me look away. As if sensing me there, his head shot up and his silver eyes landed right on the door. I held my breath.
If I don’t move, he won’t know I’m here.
Three seconds later, his head dropped back and his rhythm picked up. Up and down he stroked, all the while releasing small grunts of pleasure. I swear I felt each and every one between my legs. He picked up his speed and I panted with him. Up and down he fiercely pumped. My nipples painfully tightened and my clit ached with pent up lust. I rubbed my hands over my breasts, hoping to ease the lust. I had never wanted anything as much as I wanted inside that room. Jets of semen covered his chest and I fought back a moan. As Dillon started to sit up, I backed away from the door.
Quietly, I scurried to the front door and fanned myself. Pretending I had just arrived home, I opened the door and loudly closed it. Two seconds later, I opened the hot oven and slid the dip in. When I closed it back, Dillon was standing in front of me with his arms crossed and a skeptical look on his face.