Four
ALLISON
H ours after the meeting, Allison was still dizzy over the fact Angelo fucking Taylor was her baby daddy.
Why couldn’t he be a random stranger?
That was the scenario she had imagined. She had fantasized about casually bumping into the baby’s father one day, perhaps on a bustling street, and nonchalantly moving forward with her life, independent and self-assured.
But reality had dealt her a far more intricate hand. The man in question was not just an anonymous figure; he was none other than her father’s most formidable business rival, the very antagonist of Lockwood Inc. since assuming control of his own father’s company.
The most unexpected part of the day, however, had been his reaction to the news. He had been more supportive and positive than she had imagined, and her heart warmed at the memory.
The mere thought of him made her knees tremble. She could have sworn she felt a hint of drool forming at the corner of her mouth when she saw him dominating the entrance, his broad back filling the space, confidently spread out in the leather chair.
She hadn’t remembered who he was at that moment, trying to place where she had seen him before. And then he’d uttered those words: ‘sweet girl’, just as he’d called her that night, and a current of electricity had passed through her body. There had been something so erotic about the way he’d whispered those little words in her ear. He’d taken her so many times in so many different ways that it hadn’t occurred to her how odd a nickname it was. It made her feel like he appreciated her body, like she was something precious, and she absolutely loved it.
His arms had been hidden by his suit at the meeting, but she knew exactly how those muscles felt beneath her hands. And she knew perfectly well how strong they were because he’d held her up against the shower wall and pummeled into her relentlessly.
When she’d seen his eyes up close and suddenly remembered how those same pools of chocolate had looked up at her from between her thighs—so heavy with lust that she could have come just from looking at him.
Then the rich, inviting aroma of her father’s coffee had wafted through the air. Normally, it would have been a comfort, a fragrant reminder of cozy mornings spent in the kitchen. But earlier today, that familiar scent had triggered a wave of nausea that had washed over her like a cold wave crashing onto the shore, just as it had every day that week. It was particularly awful because Allison absolutely lived for coffee—she had practically sworn allegiance to the stuff since her college days.
The discomfort had swiftly reminded her that she couldn’t just pounce on Angelo, no matter how strong the urge, because he was her father’s enemy .
Yeah, my luck is more rotten than a bowl of cheese left out in the heat for a month.
Once she’d returned to her father’s office, Allison had demanded to work from home. She was not going to risk another mishap like the one she’d just suffered through, nor was she excited to keep throwing up in the office’s restroom. It was disgusting.
Surprisingly enough, her father had conceded. She couldn’t wait to set up her home office and actually start working. But that would have to wait until one of her brothers could help her out.
Allison now sat in her living room, sunlight streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow on the cozy space. It was a quiet afternoon, the kind she loved—excluding the chaos of her thoughts. That morning at the supermarket felt like a lifetime ago, although only a few days had passed since then. But the resolve she had found still buzzed within her. As she settled into the soft embrace of the couch, she closed her eyes, imagining a future that was entirely her own.
Just as Allison was about to drift off, the image of Angelo’s suggestion to have some coffee flashed in her mind, and another bout of nausea hit her, although this time it was for a different reason. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her stomach to settle. The thought of seeing him again, discussing the future, sent her heart racing.
Will he be supportive?
Will he freak out?
What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me or the baby?
All of those questions churned in her mind, her stomach following suit. The uncertainty of tomorrow’s meeting gnawed at her like a persistent itch she couldn’t scratch. “Why did I agree to this?” she murmured to herself, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. “What am I even going to say?”
She rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, her thoughts spiraling. “What if he thinks I’m crazy for wanting to keep the baby? What if he tells me I’m making a huge mistake?” The weight of the world seemed to rest on her shoulders, and for a moment, she considered calling it all off.
“Maybe I should just ghost him,” she said aloud, trying to convince herself. “Pretend I never met him, never got pregnant. Live my life.” But deep down, she knew that was wishful thinking. The reality was already too far along to ignore.
Angelo had been a complete stranger just a few weeks ago. The memory of that night flickered in her mind like an old film reel: laughter, drinks flowing, a spark igniting between them. But the haze of that evening had faded, leaving behind the stark truth that they were now connected in a way she had never anticipated.
“Great,” she groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes in frustration. “This was supposed to be a simple, carefree moment in my life, not a script for a dramatic soap opera.”
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, and she grabbed it, hoping for a distraction. It was a text from Johnathan, checking in to see how she was feeling. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating her response.
Should I tell him about the nausea? Or will he just freak out again?
Before she could decide, another wave of nausea hit, more intense this time. She flung her phone aside and sat up, taking deep breaths as she tried to steady herself. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a mom,” she whispered.
After a few moments of silence, she let out a shaky breath, closing her eyes once more. She tried to calm her racing thoughts, envisioning the meeting with Angelo going smoothly. Maybe he’d surprise her. Maybe he’d be thrilled about the baby, eager to dive into parenthood together.
But as her mind danced between possibilities, doubt crept back in. “What if he panics? What if he walks away?” she whispered, her heart heavy with the weight of uncertainty.
With her mind spinning, she finally succumbed to exhaustion, drifting into a restless sleep.
Allison was beginning to lose track of time.
She had intended to take a quick power nap, but she woke up the next morning feeling disoriented, as if she had been drugged and transported into a strange room, much like a character from a novel or movie.
Clearly, this pregnancy was already taking its toll on her.
Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to return to work for a while; however, if it were up to her father, she would either be working until she dropped or hiding away to avoid anyone noticing her condition. His archaic views on women in the workplace were not just outdated—they were stifling, and she knew they would ultimately be his undoing.
As a wave of nausea washed over her, Allison rushed to the bathroom, the familiar sensation triggered not just by her pregnancy but by the mere thought of her father. It was a common reaction she had grown accustomed to over the years. Despite what others might assume, her relationship with him had always been strained. He was a man of rigid expectations and traditional beliefs, and their clashes had shaped her life in ways she had only begun to understand. While others saw a strong family bond, she felt a suffocating pressure that left little room for her own aspirations. He was cold, approving of nothing and nobody.
In all honesty, what hurt most was his complete indifference for Allison.
He focused on her brothers—praising Leopold, scolding Frederick, berating Johnathan—but Allison barely warranted a glance. On rare occasions when he acknowledged her achievements, it was with a fleeting nod. And when she erred—such as becoming pregnant—he would shout briefly, remind her of her place as his daughter , then vanish. Allison’s father was a ghost in her life, and had been since her birth.
Her mother, Veronica Lockwood, had been intelligent, kind, and beautiful. A freshman at the University of Washington Law, Veronica had just begun her adult life when she met Oliver Lockwood, the love of her life. Despite admirers vying for her attention, Veronica had instantly and deeply fallen for Oliver. They married three years later, bought a home, and Oliver launched his business while Veronica intended to pursue her studies.
However, her plans were derailed. By pregnancy.
First came Johnathan Green Lockwood, followed by Leopold Brown Lockwood two years later, and then Frederick Red Lockwood another two years after that. Though their children were a handful, Veronica and Oliver relished their family life, driven by their enduring love.
As if all those kids weren’t enough for them, they went for more. Three years after Frederick, Allison Pink Lockwood was born.
Suddenly, the joyous atmosphere shifted.
Because Allison killed her mother.
Veronica had been been sitting at home alone relaxing at a very obvious, very popped, very tired, seven months pregnant, when she felt sharp pains stabbing at her. She’d called her husband, he’d come home from work in a frenzy and rushed her to the hospital.
Several hours later, the doctor had announced that Allison’s mother was dead. The umbilical cord had wrapped around Allison’s neck, and the fetal distress had caused the pains. The situation had been so severe that the doctor had decided an emergency C-section was necessary, but they hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding. And, so, her mother died.
After that, her father lost all the joy he had—which Allison doubted was a lot to begin with. He blamed her for her mother’s death and simply never bothered hiding it.
He’s an asshole to everyone but at least he’s less of an asshole to my brothers.
Lucky bastards.
Although, admittedly, her brothers weren’t lucky in the slightest; they’d lost their mother, too, after all. They never blamed her for it, however. Not once. Instead, they took it upon themselves to raise her, to provide her with the care and love her mother couldn’t and her father lacked. From diaper changes to screening her boyfriends, her brothers had always been there for her, just as they continued to be.
Her eyes burned, just as they did every time she thought about her mother. The ache in her chest felt like a weight she couldn’t shake, a constant reminder of the love and guidance she had never received. Allison wiped at her tears with a rough move that hurt her eyes even more, but she didn’t care. The sting was nothing compared to the hollow feeling inside her.
Every time she saw a mother and daughter together, laughter spilling between them, she felt a pang of jealousy and sorrow. She wished for that connection, that bond she would never get to experience.
“Mom, I wish I could have known you,” she whispered into the silence, her heart heavy. “I could really use your wisdom right now.”
The thought of becoming a mother herself, especially without the guidance of her own, was both thrilling and terrifying. She felt an overwhelming wave of uncertainty wash over her. “What would you tell me if you were here?” Allison pondered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Would you have been proud? Or would you be upset that I ended up in this situation?”
Her mind raced with memories of her mother’s smile as described by John—warm and inviting, a beacon of hope. She could imagine the way her mother would have reassured her, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. “You would have known just what to say,” she said, her voice trembling. “You would have told me that it’s okay to be scared and that I’m not alone.”
As tears streamed down her cheeks, she curled up into a ball on the couch, clutching a pillow as if it could somehow fill the void her mother had left. She felt so lost in this moment, wrestling with the uncertainty of tomorrow. She longed for her mother’s guidance, her wisdom on how to navigate this uncharted territory.
For a moment, the fear threatened to engulf her completely, and she clutched the pillow tighter, tears soaking into the fabric. “Mom, I don’t know how to do this without you,” she murmured, feeling utterly alone.
In that moment of vulnerability, a flicker of determination ignited within her. “I can’t let fear take over,” she told herself, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to be a mother, and I owe it to my baby to try, even if I have to do it alone.”
With a deep breath, Allison felt a few more tears leave her eyes. “I’ll make you proud,” she whispered to her mother, her heart swelling with a mix of sadness and hope. “I’ll do my best to be the kind of mom you would have wanted me to be.”
Sighing, Allison headed to her kitchen. She knew she had to eat something, but she hadn’t been able to stop throwing up ever since she first started.
The nausea was relentless, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. She opened the fridge and stared blankly at the contents, each item reminding her of meals she used to enjoy. Nothing seemed appetizing anymore, and the thought of cooking felt overwhelming.
After a moment, she settled on a simple piece of toast. As she spread a thin layer of butter, she thought about how quickly everything had changed. The excitement of pregnancy had been overshadowed by this wave of sickness, leaving her feeling isolated and exhausted. She just hoped it would pass soon so she could finally enjoy the journey ahead.
How am I going to keep any food down?
As Allison took a small, hesitant bite, she faintly heard the telltale sound of ‘Barbie girl’ coming from her room. She ran to check who was calling her, swallowing and letting out a nervous breath when she saw the name that lit up her screen.
“Good morning, Allison.” Angelo Taylor’s deep, slightly accented voice greeted her.
“Good morning.”
The usual feeling of nausea overcame her and she silently prayed to whoever might be listening.
Please don’t let me throw up with Angelo on the phone and I promise I’ll bring you candy when I visit.
He continued, unaware of her inner turmoil. “I noticed you didn’t text me last night, and thought I’d confirm our coffee date.”
Allison’s breath hitched. “Date?”
A short pause followed her words as Angelo probably realized what he’d said.
“Oh, um. I didn’t mean—Um—”
Allison broke into giggles as the great businessman stumbled over his own words like a shy school-boy. It was a ridiculous notion, yet a very true one that amused her immensely, washing away any nervousness she was feeling.
She took a deep breath, having mercy of the poor man that was probably embarrassed, and continued as if nothing had happened.
“I slept like a log, and didn’t get the chance to text you.”
Angelo cleared his throat. “Right. Did you pick a coffee place, then?”
Allison smiled. “I’ll text you the address now. See you there?”
“Yes. I’ll see you in a bit, Allison.”
Once that delightful call was over, Allison went back to her breakfast, still lightly chuckling. She didn’t manage to keep her food down as she’d hoped.
It’s going to be a long nine months.
As Allison parked outside the The Pink Paradise café, she did a mental check of everything. She had picked out a classy outfit; light brown, high-waisted dress pants—stretchy, elastic waistband, of course—paired with an off-the-shoulder créme sweater. She spent some time contemplating what type of shoes she should wear, eventually settling on black strappy heels.
I’m not gonna be able to wear them soon anyway, considering my ankles will look like small water balloons in a few months.
Finally, she had picked out a brown leather handbag that matched her pants and her usual gold jewelry. She never wore silver. She hated silver.
Okay, the outfit is good. Casual but classy.
Rebelling, she wrapped her hair in a half-up style, knowing her father would have preferred she wear a low bun to such a high stakes meeting.
Hairstyle could be better, but keeping with the casual theme.
And I’m officially stalling.
Allison dropped her forehead to her steering wheel. She hadn’t thought this far ahead. She had no idea why she was acting like this was an actual date, no matter the fact Angelo had accidentally called it one.
Sighing once more, Allison got out of her car. And crashed face first into a wall of muscle.
“Whoa, easy there,” Angelo said, steadying her with a firm grip on her shoulders.
Allison looked up, feeling her cheeks flush. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her stomach do a little flip. “No worries. I guess that’s one way to make an entrance.”
They stood there for a moment, the air charged with an unspoken connection. Finally, Allison broke the silence. “Shall we get that coffee?”
“Absolutely,” Angelo replied, holding the door open for her.
Her insides melted. Nobody had ever shown her such chivalry. She half-expected him to bend at the waist with a flourish and a dramatic “Milady”.
Allison straightened invisible wrinkles on her clothes, a testament to her nerves as she walked inside the café.
She hadn’t been here in almost two years, but the place still felt familiar. Cozy booths, upholstered in a soft pink fabric, lined the walls, and the scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted through the air. The walls were adorned with whimsical artwork and shelves filled with books and knick-knacks, giving the café a charming, lived-in feel.
“You have very good taste,” Angelo said and her mind filled with questions. “Your car. It’s gorgeous,” he added, almost like an afterthought and her confusion cleared.
Allison blushed slightly and cleared her throat. Pride overcame her as she spoke. “Thank you. It was my first big purchase when I started making my own money.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, as a thought crossed Allison’s mind.
Something tells me this will be interesting.