Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77787 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I had always wanted kids.
It was Astrid who had stalled having them. Which, in hindsight, was a good thing because when our relationship spiraled out of control it would’ve been hard to leave if there were kids involved.
But now she was here and we were having a baby.
I thought about Chastity and my heart felt heavy with regret. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her.
I glanced at my phone. Half an hour had passed and she still hadn’t replied.
Despite Astrid’s disapproval, I fired off another text message.
Me: Baby, please.
Me: Let me know you’re okay.
I wanted to go after her. But given the circumstances, I owed it to Astrid to stay and work this out.
When I asked her if it was possible for someone else to be the baby’s father, she turned on me, her emotions going from 0 to 100 in seconds.
“What are you suggesting? That I’m some whore like that slutty young thing you just brought to your room? Really, Ruger. I thought you preferred grownups.”
Hearing her talk about Chastity like that detonated my protectiveness.
“You speak about her like that again and I’ll throw you out of here until you can find some manners. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes flared with fight and I could see her weighing her options. Fight me or stay with me.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to replace me so soon.”
That was typical Astrid. She fought with guilt trips.
“I’ve known that woman my entire life. She’s nothing but an angel.”
The image of Chastity kneeling before me in the shower with my cock sliding in and out of her succulent lips flashed across my mind’s eye, and then vanished.
“What do you want from me, Astrid? You want me to be a good father to this kid, you know I will be. Whatever it takes. But you and I, we’re not together.”
“Come back to New Orleans with me. Your son is due in two months. Spend some time with me, with us.” She grabbed my hand and put it on her belly again. “You’ll see how good it can be.”
I pulled my hand away.
“My life isn’t with you in New Orleans, anymore. That chapter’s done.”
“I agree, but a new one is just beginning.” She kept stroking her belly. “Come back for a few weeks. Don’t we owe it to our son? Best-case scenario, you fall in love with me again. Worst-case scenario, we can at least tell our boy that we tried.”
She fixed me with eyes filled with sincerity.
“We at least owe him that, don’t we?”
CHASTITY
I felt numb. No. I felt like shit. I barely remembered the drive back to Ruger’s house, and the moment I stepped in the front door, I burst into tears.
She’s pregnant.
I went to the kitchen and started to make coffee but slumped at the island counter and let my tears rain down my face.
She’s fucking pregnant.
And now we are over.
I was a realist. What Ruger and I had was brand new, there was no way it could stand against a pregnancy with his ex-girlfriend of three years.
When I was in California, one of my guy friends had a one-night stand with a girl who worked at the local Chuck E. Cheese. Two months later she told him she was pregnant. He had no interest in her and she really had no interest in him. But as the pregnancy progressed, they grew closer and their one-night stand became a friendship, which eventually led to them falling in love and getting married. Three years later they were still crazy for each other and expecting baby number two.
Also, Reina, one of the part-time hairdressers at work, started dating a guy she met at a bar over in Humphrey. When they were two months into the relationship, his ex-wife announced she was pregnant and he decided to go back to her, leaving Reina devastated.
And who could forget my own brother, Caleb. He and Honey had fallen crazy in love with each other after their one night together resulted in her pregnancy. Now they were hopelessly in love and married with three kids.
So, me and Ruger… I wasn’t going to hang around and let that shit happen to me. The best defense was attack. End it now and minimize the pain.
Another wave of tears coincided with my phone vibrating with another message from him. I read it, deleted it and turned my phone over. I didn’t want to hear or see him. I needed space so I could process this clusterfuck.
When his bike tore into the driveway an hour later, I was neck-deep in a well of despair. And when he burst through the front door, I hurriedly wiped the tears from my cheeks. Not that I could hide my red, swollen eyes. The moment he saw them, his face softened with pain.