Two Blue Lines (Crossing The Line #1) (11 page)

Pregnancy hormones?

I flung my towel down and wished for the ten-thousandth time that I could talk to my dad; that he could accept my apologies for my teenage stupidity and just . . . just . . . shit, I dunno. Just be my dad again. Because I could sure use some advice. Like how the heck he got through two pregnancies with Mom.

I tugged on my uniform and glanced at the clock. I’d call Mel on the way in to work. What I’d say, I had no idea. But I knew I had to say something, because we hadn’t talked since my epic fail of a marriage proposal, and she couldn’t ignore me forever. We had a doctor’s appointment in a few days.

Plus my pride was obliterated. She didn’t want to marry me?

Shit.

I ran a hand through my hair and rushed to the kitchen for a quick snack. “Hey, squirt.” I ruffled Izzie’s still rumpled morning hair. At least someone still worshipped the ground I walked on.

She smiled up at me, her big green eyes slightly mischievous. “Hi, Reed. How much longer ‘til baby Samantha?”

I pressed the buttons on the microwave to begin heating my frozen pizza pocket and sighed. “A few months yet, Iz. And, I’ve told you, we don’t know if it’s a girl, and if it is, we’re
not
naming her Samantha.”

She pouted, feigning indignation on behalf of her favorite baby doll’s name. “But—”

“What’s going on in here?” Dad strolled in and my heart automatically froze in my chest. We hadn’t really talked about the baby around him since the night Mel and I fessed up.

Ignorant of the tension, Iz popped off, “Reed and Melissa won’t name the baby Samantha.” She scrambled off her chair and into Dad’s embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck, much like he’d been around her finger for as long as I could remember. “I think it’s a pretty name, don’t you, Daddy?”

My father caught my eye as the timer dinged on the microwave. “It’s a very pretty name. Is the baby a little girl?” he asked quietly, his gaze never leaving mine.

I heard my own breath move through my ears. I couldn’t have spoken if I’d wanted to. He’d never acknowledged the baby—my baby—in any kind of positive way before now. I didn’t know what to do. What to say.

Thank God for little sisters and blissful ignorance. “They don’t know yet,” Izzie chirped on. “But I think if it is, they should let me pick the name because I’m a girl. And I pick Samantha.”

Dad glanced at her with a small smile. “What about Melissa? She’s a girl, too.”

Izzie’s puzzled expression said Dad clearly had her there. He let her slide down his body, back to her feet. “And if it’s a boy?” he asked.

Izzie’s brow furrowed in distaste. “Well . . . then I guess Reed can pick or something.”

Dad was clearly amused with her obvious disgust at the idea of a boy. “Well, since we don’t know yet, let’s not worry about it right now. Why don’t you go get dressed?” His eyes caught mine over her head as his voice lowered to a stage whisper. “I’ll see what I can do about the whole ‘Samantha’ thing, okay?”

Her face lit into a sunny smile and she skipped from the room with a cocky glance over her shoulder for me.

Once Dad and I were alone, the silence was entirely too awkward, so I spun around and grabbed my sandwich, wrapped it up to-go, snagged a soda and my backpack, and headed toward the back door. “See ya.”

“Reed?”

I paused. “Yeah?” I met his eyes reluctantly, afraid of what I’d see. Knowing I’d be crushed if I saw one more ounce of recrimination.

But, for once, I didn’t see disappointment. “I . . .” It was just my dad in that smile. “Bye.”

I grinned as hope flooded me. “Bye.”

What started out as a pretty stellar morning with my dad only got better when Mel agreed to meet me after work. Today was payday, so I decided to take her out for dinner. She always seemed to be as hungry as a pack of blue whales. We’d eat, we’d talk. We’d work this out—whatever ‘this’ was. Maybe I’d even fess up to the truth about Chloe. It was really innocent.

I just knew that Mel was my compass. Had been for the past three years. She came into my life at my most emotional and had been my touchstone ever since. I’m not sure I’d know how to be me without her.

I ran home and showered again to get the popcorn smell off and put on clean clothes, including the shirt I knew Mel liked best. On the way over, I stopped at the store and cruised the floral department.

What says ‘I love you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Thank you for being the mother of my unborn child?’

Red roses looked too Valentiney.

Sunflowers seemed too Get Wellish.

I finally settled on a mixed bunch with multi-colored carnations and roses with some frou frou things I couldn’t name.

Swallowing a knot of confusing nerves, I bounded up the steps and knocked on Mel’s front door. The nerves became a swirl of hording elephants when the door swung open and I stared up into her father’s scowling face. Oh, shit. Had she told him about my proposal? Should I have asked his permission first?

“Melissa!” he called without moving and without inviting me in. Guess he was still brooding over our little barbeque talk. And to think he used to be cool.

Seconds ticked by as he stared me down, and my palms began to sweat, until Mel finally appeared. “Hey.” She brushed past her dad. “Bye, Daddy.”

“Bye, Pumpkin. Be careful.”

She waved and followed me out to the car where I opened her door and waited for her to get comfortable before pressing it closed.

With one final look at the front door, I jogged around the hood and hopped in. I started the car then leaned in the back and handed her the bunch of flowers I’d tucked away.

“Oh!” She grinned and inhaled. “What are these for?”

“Because I love you. And I’m sorry.”

Her gaze shot to mine. “For what?”

I tapped the steering wheel with my thumbs. “For everything. For making you unhappy. For pushing you with that stupid proposal. It just—”

“Shut up.”

“It just popped out and . . .” I snapped my mouth shut. “What?”

She leaned over and kissed me, her minty lip gloss filling my senses. She pulled back and looked me in the eyes. “I said, shut up.” She sat back and brought the bouquet to her nose again. “You didn’t make me unhappy. You just surprised me, is all. It wasn’t exactly the circumstances . . . the proposal . . . I’d always dreamed of, you know.”

Shit. Were those tears? “But in your dreams, it was
me
doing the proposing . . . right?”

She turned to me, her mouth hanging open. “What? Of course. How can you even ask that?”

I shrugged. “You’ve just been acting a little funny lately.”

She reached over and interlaced our fingers. “I’m sorry. I guess Peanut’s been messing with me.” She squeezed my hand. “But I love you. Always you, Reed.”

I let her reassurances sink into my bones a minute, then nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay. Now, what’s for dinner?”

I laughed and pulled out to head to the restaurant. We talked about normal stuff on the way there. My job, the classes we’d signed up for next year, our best friends, movies. I told her about Izzie wanting us to name the baby Samantha.

She made a face. “I don’t really like that name too much. Do you?” I could tell she was trying to be nice.

“Actually, I really love it,” I teased.

“You do?”

I glanced at her and thought of Izzie’s rattiest doll. “Hate it.”

Her face relaxed as we parked and I leaned over and planted a kiss on her pretty lips. “Let’s eat. You’ve gotta feed my little Samantha.”

She giggled all the way up to the front door of the restaurant. Right smack dab into Jonah. And his date.

Chloe.

My gut twisted into a thousand icy knots as Jonah and Mel laughed over the coincidence of meeting here and he introduced her to Chloe while she eyed me with a Mona Lisa smile.

This perfect day was about to go to Hell in a handbasket.

July 27
th
Continued

Dinner was pretty much a disaster.

I can’t talk about it right now. Going to bed. I’ll write in the morning. : (

Young. Party of One?

F
ull blown panic set in when the girls started giggling like old friends, their heads pressed together as they studied the aquarium in the corner, the wide-eyed fish looking about as terrified as I felt.

God
, I silently prayed,
please let Chloe keep her mouth shut . . .

Jonah clamped his hand on my shoulder and I jumped.

“Whoa, dude.” He grinned. “You all right?”

“Yeah.” I flicked a quick glance to the girls, who were headed toward the restroom. I swallowed. Shit. I turned back to Jonah. “So . . . you and Chloe? I didn’t even know you knew her.” Of all the girls to date, why her? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

He shrugged, his eyes roaming in the direction of the ladies’ room. “Who doesn’t know Chloe Seymour?”

Indeed.

“She was with some of her girlfriends at the beach when I went alone one day. We talked. No big thing.” But the glint in his eyes spoke volumes. It was a big thing. To him, at least.

Now I felt really low for not telling my girlfriend
or
my best friend about the kiss on the boat. “Jonah, I—”

I was interrupted by the girls coming back. But more than that, by the suddenly churning emotion surrounding me and the odd expression on Jonah’s face. I swiveled and found myself face to face with Chloe first. Her lips were twisted in a smirk, her eyes on Melissa as she refused to meet my gaze.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said unconvincingly. “I thought . . .” That same challenging gaze from the boat flicked between me, Jonah, and Melissa. “I thought she knew—”

I sought Mel’s eyes, but she wouldn’t look at me, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Babe . . .”

“What’s going on?” Jonah’s asked, confusion coloring his voice. “Knew what?”

Mel’s head snapped around, her eyes searing me. “That she kissed my boyfriend.”

The room seemed to grow completely silent as my heart pounded fiercely against my ribs.

Lub dub.

Lub dub.

Lub dub.

We all stared at each other.

“What?” Jonah finally mumbled.

Chloe didn’t say anything, her gaze still pinned to me.

Mel simply swiped at the tears still streaming down her face, turned, and pushed out the front door without a word.

My stomach fell to my feet like a lead balloon and I rushed to follow her just as the smiling hostess called out, “Young, party of two, your table is ready.”

The unseasonably chilly evening air slapped me in the face as I stepped outside. I glanced left and right before I saw Mel huddled by the corner of the restaurant, her arms wrapped around herself, her head bowed as if in prayer.

As I neared her, the sounds of her sobs broke my heart.

“Mel?”

She ignored me.

I gently laid a hand on her back. “Babe. Please. Don’t cry.”

She didn’t pull away so I took that as a good sign and moved closer. I began to rub her back and shoulders to try and ward off the chills starting to wrack her body. “Mel, listen to me . . .” Though what could I say? I had kept the truth from her. What excuse did I have?