Chapter 11
11
Nick
M y heart stops when the door to the children’s room opens.
Kristie’s incredibly beautiful, even wrapped in a bulky coat with her hair tied up.
But even more, there’s a burbling child in her arms that makes my heart swoop and fall.
My son.
“Hey,” I say in a low voice, rising to my full height in the children’s playroom.
“How are you?”
“Good,” Kristie breathes, before turning so that the baby faces me.
“Riley, sweetheart, say hi to Nick. Can you say hi? He’s your daddy, baby boy. Say hi.”
The child looks at me, and then to my consternation, bursts into tears.
His little face screws up even as his mouth opens in a huge wail.
“Waaaa!” he screams. “Mama, babababa!”
Kristie understands immediately, and gently cradles his head before shooting me an apologetic look.
“He needs to be nursed,” she says.
“He didn’t eat enough at lunch, and nursing will help him calm down. Give me just a sec.”
Then, the young woman slips into an adjoining room, which is dark and quiet inside.
I glimpse a crib, a baby-changing table, as well as a rocking chair before Kristie closes the door behind her, and then I’m left to listen through the wall.
The baby wails for another ten seconds, but then he abruptly stops, and I know what it is.
Kristie’s thrust her breast into his mouth, and Riley’s likely suckling away happily, his little stomach filling with warm milk from his mother’s teat.
Somehow, the imagery of Kristie nursing my son makes me go hard.
Those huge, ivory breasts.
The child cuddled in her arms, suckling contentedly.
The image makes a rush of possession surge through my frame because this is my family, and that’s my woman nourishing my son from the milk of her body.
They belong to me.
I don’t know how long I sit there in stunned silence, but the door creaks open again, and Kristie tiptoes out with an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs.
“But the good news is that Riley’s full and asleep now. They have a crib in there, so the baby’s comfortable.”
“Yes, I saw,” I say in a low tone.
But then my head jerks her way again.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Kristie? About my child? You didn’t think I’d want to know?”
She sits and takes a deep breath, clasping her hands decorously in her lap.
“I was going to tell you,” she replies in a calm voice.
“But everything happened so fast. Again, you hated me at Milly’s wedding. You thought I’d hooked up with your dad—”
“Yes,” I grind out.
“Did you?”
“ No !” she immediately bites back, her cheeks flushing.
“I’ve told you so many times that I’ve never slept with Steve! Never! You just happened to catch us at the wrong moment.”
“Exactly,” I drawl.
“There were two moments where he had his tongue down your throat, and one of those times, you were nude too.”
“But it was an accident!” she says fiercely.
“There was construction next door, so Steve slept in my bed to get away from the pounding. I stayed overnight at my friend Angela’s house. Ask him!”
“I have, and he agrees with you. He confirms your claim.”
Kristie stares at me, her eyes wide.
“Then why don’t you believe it?” she asks in a harsh whisper, dashing angrily at the tears on her cheeks.
“How can you think that Steve and I slept together still?”
“Because my dad is a fucking douche who’d put his dick into any warm, wet hole. Hell, I’m like that too. I’m a chip off the old block,” I drawl sardonically.
“But we’ll discuss that later. What are you doing with my son?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing?” Kristie asks in a slow tone, her expression resentful.
“I’m a good mother. I love Riley, and I’ve done my best by him.”
I pin her with a pointed look.
“Which includes, or does not include, selling your body?” I drawl, my eyebrows raised.
“How does working as a prostitute make you an ideal parent?”
This time, Kristie leaps to her feet.
“You are a fucking douche,” she spits.
“I’m sorry that I ever forgot it! I’m through with this conversation, and don’t talk to me ever again. I’ll send you my lawyer’s contact info and you can talk to her.”
Then, she makes to stomp out, but at the last minute, remembers that her son’s in an adjoining room.
She whirls on her feet and stomps in there instead, shutting the door behind her.
I sag on the couch, suddenly feeling defeated.
Oh fuck. How have we made such a fucking mess of the situation?
We can’t even talk for five seconds without fighting because we’ve fucked up so much .
.. and despite it all, I still want the curvy girl with all of my heart.