Chapter 14
Babies and Baby Daddies
? If He Wanted To he Would - Kylie Morgan
Griffin
Friends. Such a stupid fucking word, and yet it’s been the only thing on my mind for three agonizing weeks. I don’t know how much longer I can stand seeing her damn near every day and pretending I don’t want her with every fiber of my being. It’s going to break me.
I’m standing with Jaxon near the paddock when a black SUV pulls into the lot. “You expecting someone?”
He turns, following my line of sight. “No. You?”
I shake my head. Angie’s supposed to be here later, but it’s not her.
The driver’s side door opens, and out steps a man I haven’t seen in years. “Doc? Thought you retired.”
A smile spreads across Doctor Briggs’s face, deepening his fine lines and crow’s feet. He runs his hand through his grey hair. “Good to see you, too, Griff.” He nods once at my brother. “Jax.”
“What brings you out to the ranch?” Jaxon asks.
Doctor Briggs was Angie's predecessor. He’s been retired for the better part of three years.
“Angelina called,” he says. “Told me it’s vaccine day for some of the herd.”
“Doesn’t explain what you’re doin’ here. Where’s Angel?”
He lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling. “Angel, huh? So, the rumors are true? You two got hitched?”
“Running out of patience here.”
“She’s sick. Took the day off.” His brow furrows as he narrows his eyes at me. “Shouldn’t her husband know something like that?”
I lock eyes with Jaxon.
He nods tersely. “Go.”
I fumble with my keys as I rush to my truck and put it in drive.
Sick.
Took the day off.
It doesn’t make sense. Angelina hasn’t missed a single day of work that wasn’t planned out well in advance.
Not one in three fucking years. She sometimes asks Doctor Briggs to cover if she has a busy schedule and can’t make it to an emergency call-out, but otherwise, she’s as predictable as the tides.
I dial her number several times, but she doesn’t pick up. My grip tightens around the steering wheel as I navigate through the familiar streets. A drive that would normally take fifteen minutes only takes ten.
I pull into her driveway alongside her van and throw open my door. Every atom in my body vibrates with the need to get to her. I need to know she’s alright.
I’m at her door in a few long strides. I rap my knuckles on the wood and wait.
No answer.
I knock again.
Silence.
After one last attempt, her muffled voice comes through the door. “Go away, Tyler.”
She sounds like she’s been crying. Has that piece of shit been harassing her?
Out of patience, I try the doorknob. It twists, there’s a quiet click, and the door swings open. I curse under my breath. Oak Ridge is a small town, but a single woman living on her own should always keep her door locked.
“Angel? You here?” My booming voice echoes through the entry into the pristine open-plan living space. It smells like a mix of Angelina’s perfume and something clean and fresh.
A low groan reaches my ears, and I follow the sound to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. Angie’s sitting on the floor with her back to the clawfoot tub, cradling her head in her hands.
She glances up at me through glassy, bloodshot eyes. “Griff?”
I drop to my knees in front of her, and without a single ounce of forethought, I pull her onto my lap. Ignoring the worry coursing through my veins, I keep my voice low and steady. “What’s wrong?”
She tries to push me away, but I hold her to me. “I’m not letting you go until you talk to me.”
She shakes her head. “Put me down. I probably smell like puke.”
“You could smell like horse shit, and it still wouldn’t bother me one bit.”
A soft laugh bubbles out of her. “Seriously. Put me down. I might throw up on you.”
I put her back where she was and settle opposite her, with my back to the door. My eyes rake over her body from head to toe. She’s pale, and her hair is piled in a messy bun on top of her head, but she’s still as beautiful as ever.
“You called Doc.”
She nods.
“Didn’t think to tell your husband you aren’t feeling well?”
She quirks an eyebrow, pursing her lush lips. “Oh, sorry. Should I check with you first before I get sick next time?”
“You scared the shit out of me, Angel. And why the fuck did you leave your door unlocked?”
She opens her mouth to answer, but what little color she had left drains from her face before she can speak. She makes it to the toilet just in time. I’m at her side in an instant, rubbing my palm up her back in soothing strokes.
She reaches behind her, attempting to swat me away, but her aim is off. “Go away. I don’t need an audience for this.”
She dry heaves a few more times, but I don’t let up.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby girl.”
She takes several deliberate breaths as she rests her head on her forearms. I scan the area for a washcloth to dab on her forehead, but the trash can and the empty boxes discarded there catch my attention.
My chest tightens.
On the vanity, three pregnancy tests are laid out beside the sink.
Three positive pregnancy tests.
“Angie… are you…”
“Don’t say it,” she mumbles, her voice echoing through the porcelain.
My skin prickles with awareness, my mouth suddenly dry. “Are we having a baby?”
She reaches for the roll of toilet paper and breaks off a few squares, wiping her face before sliding back into position. “I’m pregnant.”
If I wasn’t already on my ass, her matter-of-fact confirmation would’ve put me there. A wide smile breaks across my face, and my heart swells. “We’re having a baby.”
She chews on the inside of her cheek and stares down at her hands. There’s a long pause before she speaks again, and by then, I’ve already come to my own horrible conclusion.
“I don’t know,” she says. “It could be…”
My stomach sinks, and all of the air seems to evaporate from my lungs. “Tyler’s.”
She stares down at her hands, twisting in the hem of her shirt. “Maybe.”
“No. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Maybe not, but that doesn’t change that it could be his.”
Could be, not is. There’s still a chance she’s carrying my baby. It wouldn’t matter to me either way. That baby is meant to be mine as sure as Angelina is.
I kneel and cradle her face in my palms, forcing her to look at me. “Tell me what you need me to do. You want me to forge a DNA test? Force Tyler to sign away his rights? Help you flee the country? Say the word, Angel. I’ll make you both mine before Tyler knows what happened.”
Her shoulders begin to shake. At first, I think she’s crying, but the sound that follows isn’t anguish. She’s laughing. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
“I’ve never been more serious in my life. I want to take care of you.” I press my hand to her soft belly. Nothing has changed, but I need the connection. “Both of you.”
“I can do this on my own.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper, like she doesn’t believe herself.
“I have no doubt that you can do this, Angel. But you don’t have to.”
She huffs out a disbelieving breath. “You say that now, but this isn’t some game of pretend. Once the baby is here, you’ll change your mind.”
Like Tyler did.
She doesn’t have to say it; I already know that’s what she’s thinking. He was all in until he wasn’t, and when the time came to step up, he walked away.
I’m not him. I walked away once, believing that’s what she wanted, but wild horses couldn’t drag me away this time. I’m in this.
I cup her jaw with my free hand, letting my thumb trace the delicate curve of her cheek. “There’s no changing my mind about this or anything else.”
I can tell by the look in her eyes that she still doesn’t believe me, so I continue speaking, hoping like hell I can convince her of what I already know to be true—they’re mine.
“I want to be there for all of it. Late-night feedings, diaper changes, first words, first steps. I’ll even teach them how to ride and play guitar.”
It’s only when Angie’s expression falters that I consider she might not want to keep it. Even though I’ve only known she’s pregnant for a handful of minutes, I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
I thought I had everything when I slid that ring onto her finger, but my heart just expanded to encompass the little life growing inside of her. I can’t imagine losing them before I get to hold them in my arms.
“Are you happy?” I ask, needing the answer more than I need my next breath.
Glancing down at where we’re joined, her expression softens.
“It still doesn’t seem real.” She looks up at me through tear-filled eyes, lacing our fingers together.
“I was finally coming to terms with the idea that I might never have kids of my own. I thought I’d never get to experience this.
” She blinks rapidly, and a single tear falls against our joined hands.
I glide my thumb along her cheekbone. “You’re going to be an amazing mom.”
“What about you? Do you still want kids?”
“Fuck yes.”
“What if—”
I don’t give a shit if that baby has Tyler’s DNA.
I press a soft kiss to her mouth to silence her. “She’s half of you, Angel. That’s all that matters to me.”
She quirks a brow and her lips tip up at one side. “She?”
“Or he. I wouldn’t mind having a little Griffin Junior.”
Her eyes crinkle with amusement. “Don’t you think you’re getting a little ahead of yourself, babe?”
The endearment slips off her tongue, and a smug satisfaction rolls through me. I like the sound of that. A lot.
I stand and hold out my hands. “Come on. Let’s get you up off the floor.”
Her eyes widen, and she slowly shakes her head. “Can’t. Gravity makes me woozy.”
“Alright then.” I crouch down and scoop her into my arms, careful not to jostle her too much.
She kicks her feet and wiggles to get free. “Put me down.”
A quick slap on the ass shuts her up, and her face flushes the same shade of pink as her nipples.
Fuck. Now’s not the time to be thinking about her nipples.
“Stop fighting me,” I say gruffly. I stride into the living room and lay her across the couch. “Stay here.”
Her eyes follow me as I head into the kitchen.
I grab the deepest bowl I can find and line it with a grocery bag, then I fill a glass of water from the fridge and head back the way I came.
I don’t know the first thing about taking care of someone with morning sickness, but Mama always did this for us when we had a stomach bug. The basic principles should apply.
“Drink.” She takes the glass from my outstretched hand as I set the bowl down on the coffee table. “If you feel like you’re gonna be sick again, aim for the bowl.”
I take a seat at the end of the large sectional and pull her feet onto my lap. “About the baby…”
“I have an ultrasound on Tuesday. That’s when we’ll know.”
“I’m going with you,” I tell her.
She yawns, stretching her arms above her head. The movement exposes a sliver of skin at her midriff, and a far-off memory resurfaces—my tongue trailing up her torso, chasing the harsh burn of the whiskey I’d poured there.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she says.
“I’m not missing out on my baby’s first ultrasound.”
“It might not—”
“Don’t.” My tone comes off harsher than I intended, but if I have to hear how the baby might not be mine one more goddamn time, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.
I press my thumbs into her arches, massaging her feet. She leans her head back against the cushion and closes her eyes.
“What time on Tuesday?” I ask.
She lets out a soft hum as my hands travel up to her calves. “Nine.”
“I’ll bring breakfast, and we can drive over together.”
I take it as a win when she doesn’t argue with me. Some part of her must want me there, and there’s not a single part of me that wants to miss it.
“I need to call Tyler. It’s only fair for me to give him the same choice.”
The urge to argue the point is strong, but I hold back. I understand her reasoning. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
She tries to pull her legs away, but I trap her in place with my forearm. “Whoa. Where do you think you’re going?”
“To get my phone from the kitchen so I can call him.”
“Gravity, remember? I’ll get it for you.”
I reluctantly let her go long enough for me to grab her phone from the island and place it in the palm of her hand. When I take a seat again, I slide in closer this time.
I can’t help but laugh when I see the nickname she’s given him in her list of contacts. “Runaway Groom?”
“The alternative wasn’t as nice.”
She draws in a long breath through her nose and lets it out, then she calls him. It rings twice before Tyler answers. It’s muffled, but I’m still close enough to hear everything he’s saying.
“Hey, Ange. Is this where I get to say I told you so?”
“I’m pregnant.” She blurts it out with all the ceremony of a contestant on a game show.
“Is it mine?” he asks in a disturbing monotone.
My hands fist and unfurl against my thighs as I fight to contain my anger. This piece of shit never fucking deserved her—that much has been abundantly clear for years—but the callous way he’s speaking to her now has my hackles rising.
Angie’s voice never falters. “I don’t know.”
There’s movement on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of a door closing. Tyler scoffs. “Then why the fuck are you calling me? Don’t you have a husband you can call?”
Her fingers twist in the tassels of a pillow, the only outward sign of distress. “I have an ultrasound on Tuesday. We should know more then. Do you want to come?”
“I’m good. Do whatever you want.”
“You don’t want to know?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“And if it is?” she asks. “Yours, I mean?”
“Let’s just hope it’s not.”
And with that, the line goes dead.
Angie stares at the blank screen for the longest minute of my life. Just when I think she’s about to say something, her phone drops to the rug, and her hands cradle her belly.
She folds herself in half and vomits into the bowl.
I run my palm up Angie’s back, making soothing patterns along her spine. If she didn’t need me right now, I’d hop in my truck and beat the ever-loving shit out of Tyler for the way he responded to the news that he might be a fucking father. His reaction only fortified my resolve.
They’re mine. No matter what the ultrasound says.