19
Beckett
“So, what’s the game plan here, Beck?” Ryan asks from the doorway to my studio while looking down at his phone and typing out a message. Who said men can’t multitask? “You just waiting her out, hoping one day she’ll just snap out of it and take you back?”
I shake my head at him as I wipe down my chair, the smell of alcohol wafting up my nose, and the sound of “Lightning Crashes” by Live playing softly through my speakers, dampening his voice. “Something like that.”
With a huff, he locks his phone and shoves it into his back pocket. “Bro, she’s pregnant . You don’t have time for this shit. You need to-”
“Ryan,” I snap, dropping the disinfectant towel in my hand and facing him. “I’m very aware that she’s pregnant, okay? Penny is not Molly. Do you get that? She has been taught to be weary of men all her life, and I fucked up the little trust she had in me. Destroyed it. She will cling to any reason she can find, to never give me another shot. She isn’t going to respond to me rocking up with flowers every day or baking her a fucking cake. She needs time. Effort. Patience.”
Consistency, dedication, and a fuck load of elbow grease will win this war. Not grand gestures and pretty words.
For instance, every day for the past fortnight, I’ve spent my lunch break at the café, washing her dishes, because even though the woman loves being in the kitchen, loves baking and creating, she hates the clean-up that comes with it, so I do it for her. Every. Damn. Day.
I’ve spent my nights sketching out designs for the baby’s nursery while listening to the audiobook version of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting”, so that we have something to talk about while I’m elbow deep in suds and she’s rolling out pastry behind me.
For now, it’s working. We’re talking. We’re planning. We’re making progress.
She did try to lay out some ground rules the first time I came in to help; told me some bullshit about both of us needing to move on, date other people, and figure out how to co-parent. I shut that down real fucking quick, told her there was no one else for me, ‘cos there isn’t, and then mentioned that her dough looked dry. I got the cold shoulder for all of five minutes before she started telling me I was washing the dishes wrong. I blew some suds at her, she laughed, and we moved on. Since then, smooth fucking sailing, just the way I like it.
Ryan holds his hands up in defence. “Okay, okay. I didn’t mean to push.”
I groan and turn to pick the wipe I dropped back up. “I know, man. I know you’re trying to help.”
He nods at me as we make eye contact and then, when I go back to disinfecting my shit, he clicks his tongue, makes a fist, and bangs the door frame twice before heading back to his own room.
His words have me questioning my plan for a second, but then my next client, Brad, arrives ten minutes early, giving me the ultimate distraction; A Lord of The Rings themed full back piece. No time for thinking when you’re trying to re-create Fangorn Forrest on someone’s fucking skin.
Hours later, my hands are aching, and I’ve got a cramp in my shoulder, but we’re finished for the day, and what I’ve managed to get done so far is amazing. Brad is a very, very happy man. A very happy man that hasn’t stopped showing me photos of his twin five-year-old sons for the past fifteen minutes, despite my efforts to veer the conversation in a different direction or end it entirely. After I briefly mentioned that Penny was pregnant, he’s done nothing but rave about his wife, his kids, his life, and while I enjoy the picture he’s painting, right now that isn’t my reality, and the fact has me a little irritable.
“Hold up a sec,” I say to Brad, as he holds out his phone to show me another photo, and mine buzzes in my back pocket.
After fishing my phone from my jeans, I read the message on my lock screen.
PENNY: I’m going on a date this afternoon. Just so you’re aware. It may be awkward if you come in for lunch.
“Like fucking hell you are,” I whisper at the device in my hand as I unlock it and then furiously type back my reply.
ME: You’re delusional if you think I’m going to allow that to happen.
I send the message, and then another thought pops into my head, so I send that on through as well.
ME: What kind of bloke dates a woman pregnant with another man’s baby, anyway?
Penny may still be small, but in the last week, her belly has significantly popped, and she’s started wearing clothes that show off her bump, rather than hide it, so the creep who’s asked her out is clearly aware that she’s carrying my fucking kid.
PENNY: That’s none of your business.
ME: I disagree.
I watch as the dots appear at the bottom of our message thread, disappear, re appear, and then her reply pops up under mine.
PENNY: You’re infuriating, you know that? I told you I was moving on, Beckett. This is me doing that.
ME: I didn’t agree to you dating other men.
Once again, she replies quickly, and does nothing but piss me off further.
PENNY: Good thing I didn’t ask your permission then. This is simply a curtesy.
“Right,” I whisper before locking my phone. “Got to wrap this up, mate,” I say to Brad. “Got something I need to take care of.”
He nods at me, clearly curious, but he doesn’t ask, and I appreciate that. After paying and booking in his next session, Brad leaves and I follow closely behind him.
“Beck,” Ryan calls out as reach the front door. “Where you going, mate? Wayne will be here in thirty!”
“Call him for me,” I reply. “Push it back an hour; I’ll work late to make up for it. Got something I need to sort out with Penny.”
His laughter follows me across the shop. “That’s right, big man. Go get your girl! Good luck!”
I shake my head as he continues, and I let the front door swing closed behind me.
I don’t need luck.
The stubborn woman is going to learn real quick that dating anyone other than me is not an option. Not now, not ever. I may be giving her time to come around, time to forgive me, but that doesn’t make her any less mine .
Penny
“Have you noticed that guy over there?” Jason whispers from his seat across from me while jerking his head to the side.
I nod and take a big gulp of my chai latte. “Don’t pay him any attention.”
I knew the moment Beckett walked into Coffee Leaf . I could feel it, and I wasn’t surprised in the least, that like the man-child he is, he came to chaperone my date.
It’s not like he’s interrupting much of anything, anyway.
I was completely taken aback when Jason asked me out earlier, and the only reason I agreed to have coffee with him was I because I was curious. I had no idea how I’d feel, going on a date with another man. Now I do.
Bored.
Since Jason and I sat down, all I’ve been able to focus on is the mole sitting just above his right eyebrow. It’s small, but the layer of sweat coating his skin makes it glisten, and I find it far more interesting to examine it than to listen to his lame attempt at small talk.
He’s an attractive guy, or I thought he was. He’s well over 6ft, with short, dark blonde hair, and he works in finance, so he’s always well dressed and smells like expensive cologne. Now, try as I might, I can’t figure out why I found him so appealing earlier.
With another side-eyed glance toward Beckett, he takes a deep breath, as if trying to calm himself down, and asks, “So, you bake?”
Seriously ?
Jason is a customer.
He asked me out at my café, and yet the best he can come up with is, ‘so you bake?’
Obviously , I bake. He comes in every day to eat my lemon curd tarts. In fact, he just ate one of my lemon curd tarts. The crumbs from the base are still sitting on the plate in front of him.
Idiot.
Him.
Men.
The lot of them.
Including the one sitting on the opposite side of the room, nursing a cappuccino.
“Sure,” I reply with a shrug, taking another sip of my drink. “I bake.”
Jason wipes at his forehead with a paper napkin before balling it in his hand. “Right, right,” he mumbles as he quickly glances over at Beckett again. “And you’re pregnant?”
I glance down at my rounded stomach, covered by the butter-yellow maxi dress I changed into after I’d finished in the kitchen. “I am.”
Twenty-one-weeks and two days, pregnant, to be exact.
“Is he the father?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, nervously biting his bottom lip and tugging at the collar of his light blue button-up shirt. “He’s going to hurt me, isn’t he?” His panicked expression is actually kind of funny, and I try my best not to smirk when he adds, “He looks like he’s going to hurt me.”
While it does make him seem slightly pathetic, I understand his concern. Beckett’s a big guy. I’d probably be intimidated too, if he was looking at me like he wanted to dance on my grave.
With a roll of my eyes and an exasperated sigh, I say, “He’s not going to hurt you.”
Do I believe that statement? Eh. But it seems like the right thing to say.
“He is!” he says, leaning further toward me, elbows resting on the table. “He’s staring at me.”
I don’t have to look over at Beckett to know that he is, in fact, staring at Jason. I can feel his eyes on us from across the room, and the bastard planted himself at a table that gave him an unobstructed view of us.
I take a deep breath, turn on my charm, and decide that if nothing else is going to come from this date, I’m going to make a point to the man determined to ruin it. “Just ignore him,” I purr, reaching over the table and placing my hand on Jason’s forearm. “Tell me about you.”
The sound of Beckett slamming his mug down on the wooden table he’s sitting at echoes through the café, and from the corner of my eye I see a handful of customers stop what they’re doing to look over at him.
“Ignore him? He looks like he wants to kill me!”
“Oh, he does,” I reply, waving his comment off with my free hand. “But don’t worry, he won’t.”
“He might,” Evie singsongs as she once again just happens to pass by my table, a pink tea towel thrown over her shoulder and a victorious smile on her face.
Thank God Molly’s gone to the park to have lunch with Emma this afternoon, otherwise I’d have both of them casually passing by every three minutes just to make their presence known.
“Penny,” Jason begins, jerking his arm back so that my hand falls onto the table between us. “I… I can’t… He literally just gave me the ‘you’re dead’ signal’. I didn’t mean to get in the middle of anything and clearly with you being pregnant with his kid and-”
I straighten in my seat and narrow my eyes. “You’re serious?”
“Look, you’re hot, Penny. And I was excited about this, but shit, I’m not going to get beaten to a pulp-”
“Just go,” I reply dryly, far too bored to bother hearing him continue to justify being such a bitch.
He watches me, eyes wide, as I finish off the rest of my drink and place the mug back down. “Yeah?”
I don’t respond, simply turn my head, lean back into my chair and wave a hand, dismissing him, along with the idea that I could simply move on from the man sitting across the room.
Within seconds, Jason’s up and hightailing it out of the cafe. He doesn’t even close the front door behind him.
I count to five in my head before I look over at Beckett, and when I do, the smug grin on his face has my blood boiling. We maintain eye contact as he raises his mug, winks at me and mouths, ‘cheers.’
I shoot him my best withering glare, stand up, and walk my ass into the kitchen, leaving him to do his victory dance without an audience. Thirty seconds later, I exit, with my laptop tucked under my arm, pass by Evie, who is now cheerily wiping down the front counter, and head into the staff room.
Just as I sit at the antique wooden dining table and open my computer, Beckett’s voice cuts through the peaceful silence. “We need to talk.”
I scoff at his blatant audacity and don’t even bother looking up. I simply double click on the email icon on my home screen and listen to the sound of his footsteps approaching.
“Penny,” he says, his voice firm. “What are you doing?”
“Checking my email-”
“You know what I mean.”
His tone gets my attention, so I raise my head to look at him, but he’s a little closer than I anticipated, crouching down so that his face is now uncomfortably close to mine. Instead of trying to hide the fact that his proximity affects me, I push my chair back, stand, and walk around him to get to the mini fridge under the kitchen counter that we keep stocked with bottles of spring water. He doesn’t move, just watches me, and it isn’t until I’ve retrieved a bottle and taken a sip that I look at him again.
“You’re overreacting,” I say, screwing the lid back on and placing the bottle beside me before lazily leaning back against the counter.
“And you’re still punishing me,” he retorts, taking two large steps forward.
“I’m not punish-”
“You are, and that’s okay. I deserve it.”
He moves closer as he speaks, his eyes locked on mine and when he reaches me, he leans forward and cages me in, resting both hands on the counter. “I fucked up,” he whispers, and I huff at the under exaggeration of the century. His facial expression softens slightly. “I know I hurt you, but I am not going anywhere. And I know you don’t want to hear it, but I do love you.” My entire body stiffens, and I attempt to squeeze past him, but he doesn’t budge, so instead, I turn my head and stare at the pink wall to my left. His warm breath hits my cheek as he continues, and the sensation sends a shiver down my spine. “I told you I wouldn’t give up on us, and I won’t. I’m not afraid to put in the hard work that it’s going to take for you to trust me again. For you to believe that I’m all in. But you need to stop acting as though you’re not mine .” He pauses, and his silence has me curiously turning back to look into his bright green eyes. “I know that little voice inside your head is telling you not to let me back in. That your mother’s words are in there too, telling you the same, but I am not a leopard . I have no spots to change.” His reference to my mother’s mantra has my breath catching in my throat. He remembers me telling him that? I mentioned it once… Months ago. “I made a mistake . I let you walk away from me without a fight. I was weak .”
“Stop,” I whisper, needing him to stop saying all the right things.
“I won’t,” he whispers again, wrapping one thick hand around my jaw and holding my face in place as he looks into my eyes and says, “There is no one else for me, Pen. Don’t you get that? I’m yours. All yours. Completely. Fucking hopelessly. Stop fighting it. Stop fighting me , and just fucking forgive me.”
Equally pissed off and captivated by the look in his eyes, I lick my dry lips. He doesn’t miss the movement. “You’re not mine,” I hiss as he stares at my mouth. “You chose her .”
I curse my traitorous heart as it aches in my chest and he shakes his head, his eyes still locked on my lips. “It was never about her. Not for me.” He pauses, and his eyes move around my face, lingering on every detail, as if committing each freckle and line to memory.
“I’m sorry, Love,” he whispers, leaning in just a little further. Close enough now that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips as he says, “Please forgive me .”
“Penny!” Evie calls out, before entering the staff room, and catching Beckett and I, nose to nose, pressed up against the counter. “Oh, shit,” she says, covering her eyes and turning so that her back is to us. “Sorry. Carry on !”
Beckett’s eyes don’t leave mine as she exits the room, but the air between us feels lighter.
Slowly, he shakes his head, and the corner of his lips turn up into a half smile. “This conversation isn’t over,” he says quietly, before releasing his hold on me and taking a step back. He runs his hand through the overgrown stubble lining his jaw and exhales through his nose. “Later,” he adds, almost in warning, before he, too, turns, and leaves the staff room.
I stand there, speechless, one hand over my racing heart, and the other grazing the skin still tingling from his touch.
Holy fucking shit.
What was that?