16. The message
Chapter 16
The message
LETTIE
I ’ve known I’m going to be a mother for a week. I’m slowly coming to terms with it.
Don’t listen to me. That’s a lie.
I was trying to play it cool with you. But in truth, I’m flabbergasted in the best way. Surprisingly, I’m thrilled at the idea of becoming a mother. Is the timing great? Not so much. Yet I don’t give a flip.
The day after I took the test, I had a tiny breakdown in a bathroom stall here at work. Honestly, is there a better place to have a breakdown? All the angst and worry got to me, resulting in a spectacular emotional explosion. Much like it did the night of the no-condom mishap. My negative thoughts were so loud I had to run into the bathroom and just cry to get out the crippling emotions.
Mostly, it was fear.
Fear of being judged or going to Hell for getting pregnant out of wedlock. Fear of telling my friends and, eventually, telling Mama. Fear of what people at Redleg will think. Don’t get me started on how terrified I am of the actual delivery.
But the kicker is the fear of being no better than my mother.
The real one.
After my cathartic release, I got to thinking. It struck me like lightning how nothing about my pregnancy is the same as my birth mother’s other than being unwed.
I’m in love with Tomer, and he’s in love with me. This isn’t some casual fling or meaningless sex. I’m not watching my soldier board a plane to fly to parts unknown. He’s right down the freaking hall. We’re living together. Both employed—sort of. He’s financially stable. And we both want to be parents to this little blessing.
So why be upset? Things could be much, much worse.
I might not have the ring on my finger, but that’s temporary. I have the metaphorical ring around my neck, which is as meaningful to us. Plus, even if I am unmarried, so what? I left Climax and the church for a reason. I escaped Mama’s influence for the same reason. I want to be free from misguided beliefs and small-minded, antiquated thinking. And I refuse to let Mama’s viewpoints wreck my ability to feel joy at bringing a life into the world with the man I love.
Every time I start to feel stressed about the pregnancy—even just a twinge of discomfort—I remember how he dropped to his knees and kissed my belly. He’s already in love with the baby. He’ll be the best father. And it makes me so happy to give him this gift. How could I regret that even for one second?
Tomer and I haven’t told a soul, aside from a receptionist at the doctor’s office when we called to make an appointment. We do have a bit of a situation regarding my health insurance. Since I haven’t been back to Bask, they put me on a leave of absence. If I don’t return in thirty days, they’ll likely terminate my employment, and I’ll lose my health coverage.
Tomer’s not worried about it, so I guess I won’t either.
Except, of course, I’ll worry.
Later.
Right now, I have work to do. Boss Dad should be in at any moment, and he always has stuff for me to do at the start of each day.Peggy was right about him coming in with a list of tasks and then later thanking me once the day settles for him.
It’s a bit odd that we haven’t spoken much more about the whole... father-daughter thing, aside from that first day. I’m unsure what to make of it. And to further complicate an already awkward relationship with him, I’ll soon have to tell him I’m pregnant.
Congrats, you’re a dad. And double-congrats, you’re a grandpa.
Talk about a lot to throw on a guy in a short time. Oof.
Fortunately, I have loads of other shit to worry about. No time to obsess over how all this will shake out.
I’m clearing out my email when I get a private chat request from my love.
Tomer:
Can I tell Mia and Klein?
Me:
Umm. Why? Thought we agreed not to talk about it this soon.
Tomer:
Can you meet me now?
Me:
Yes.
The copy room is the halfway point between my desk and Tomer’s lair. If we start walking at the same time, that’s where we meet. He calculated it out, even taking into account his longer strides. Hilarious. And hot. After all, smart is sexy.
As an added perk, the copy room has a locking door. And a counter that puts me at the perfect height for certain activities .
I’m sure you can figure out why those are good things.
Oddly enough, the copy room isn’t used much since everything is digital here at Redleg. But the room still exists, and for that, I salute it.
As soon as I round the corner, I see him walking toward me. His smile beams, and his pace picks up, making my heart pound.
I’m so damn smitten.
Exactly as predicted, we meet at the copy room doorway. He grabs my hand and pulls me inside wordlessly. As soon as the door closes, he pushes me against it and captures my lips. My toes curl, and my soul sings.
I’ve barely left his side for a few weeks. And we still can’t get enough of each other.
While twirling his tongue with mine, he holds me in place with a hand on the side of my neck. He lowers his other palm along the front of my body until it rests on my stomach. It makes my breath catch. He’s so damn sweet with all these little ways he acknowledges how he thinks of the pregnancy. Even if I don’t have a bump or outward signs, the baby never leaves my mind. And apparently, it doesn’t often leave his either.
I love that so much.
See? Nothing like my birth mother’s situation.
Boss Dad didn’t even know she was pregnant. Whereas my man thinks about it all the time. He sends me links to articles about pregnancy, baby names, and healthy child-rearing. How he’s managing all that while doing everything else to take down Viktor, I have no clue. He’s a workhorse.
I break the kiss to refill my lungs, and our raspy breaths fill the space around us. “Hiya, handsome.”
“I swear I didn’t come here to maul you, but I guess my hormones had other plans.”
Snaking my arms around his waist, I lock them behind him and haul myself flush against his strong body. “Consider me on board with your change of plans.”
“I’d love to feel you wrapped around other parts of me right now, sugar bear, but I can’t. Lots to do today.”
“I suppose you’ll have to make me scream for you later.” I bat my lashes at him, loving our flirty banter. “Now, what’s this about spilling the beans before they’re cooked?”
“Mia and Klein are suspicious. Ridiculously so. And I don’t want to lie to them. It feels... dirty.”
Oh my heart. He’s so done with lying that he can’t even do it when it’s acceptable to fudge the truth.
“What are they saying?”
“Well, for starters, Shep told them your necklace looks more like a collar than a choker. I owe him a junk punch for that, but I should have realized he’d know since he’s in the lifestyle.”
My head quirks to one side, eyes widening. “He is?”
Does that mean Kri is a sub like me? I can’t imagine that headstrong woman taking orders from anyone. Oh, to be a fly on the wall at their house.
“Yeah, but that’s not the point. Focus.”
I squeeze his waist. “Easy,” I admonish playfully. “You know I have no say in the matter. The squirrel is in charge.”
He looks a touch repentant. “Sorry. I’m hyped right now. We’re coming close to cracking the code. I can feel it. Something is about to happen.”
“Fine. Back to your explanation. So Mia and Klein are nosy?”
“Right. So they know things are serious for us. They’re constantly asking why I’m so happy and all that shit. Annoying.” He utters a groan that morphs into a sigh. “Word of Sue’s condition has gotten around. And that naturally led them to talk about how you’ve been seen running into the bathroom and occasionally appear pale.”
“It’s entirely possible Mia was in the bathroom the other morning when my scrambled eggs made an encore appearance. I wasn’t sure who it was, but I smelled her perfume. I’m sensitive to it. Which is totally fun.” I crinkle my face to imply sarcasm. “I guess it makes sense that she’s extra curious after that.”
“This morning, they asked me flat out. I changed the subject. But I’d rather just tell them. Would you be okay if I swore them to secrecy?”
“First, I love how you’re asking me. Thank you.” I pucker my lips, enticing him to kiss me. He obliges, giving me a quick peck, and then I continue. “Second, I guess it’s okay. If you think you can trust them with it. I’d hate for it to get around too soon and for people to start talking. Or implying I got pregnant from the whole... you know.”
Tomer’s entire expression changes, all traces of joy disappearing in a breath. My heart squeezes painfully as if my chest has been compressed.
I haven’t ever said that out loud.
It’s rare that I even have that thought without immediately banishing it. It’s more of my favorite coping technique—living in the clouds, riding on unicorns, and singing with the barbershop monkeys. Denial.
“Lettie, are you thinking that’s a possibility?”
I won’t lie to him. “Maybe. Although, logic tells me it’s yours. They wore condoms. Skidmark made them.” I cringe internally. And probably outwardly. “Plus, you and I had that accident. More than likely, it’s yours.”
“But . . .”
“The fear will probably always be in the back of my mind. I can’t erase it. I know it’s horrible to think such things, and I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
“Sweetness, don’t apologize. I’ve had similar thoughts on occasion.”
“You have?”
“Yes. That was the only reason I didn’t want you to be pregnant. Not because of the baby’s DNA, but I didn’t want your emotions about your first pregnancy to be tainted with those nagging worries. I honestly don’t care who the biological father is because it’s our baby. And as long as it’s half you, he or she will be perfect.”
He just gave me a rabbit hole I could fall down, escaping the heavy topic we’re discussing. “My first pregnancy?”
“Pregnant and barefoot, remember?”
A light chuckle dances from my lips, which he quickly covers with a sweet and tender kiss.
When he pulls away, he asks, “You okay?”
“Yes. Thank you, babe.”
“Don’t ever doubt my feelings about the baby, okay? If you have concerns of your own, that’s understandable. And if you wanted to change the . . .” He pauses to force a swallow. “The outcome, I’d support your decision. Either way, I’m here for you both. The baby is ours . Regardless.”
Although I’m barely able to see him through my blurry eyes, my hand finds his cheek. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, sugar bear.” He turns his head to kiss the center of my palm. “So can I tell the two kids?” His eyes dance with giddiness.
No way I could deny him. “Fine. Just tell them not to blab.”
“Wilco.”
My nipples salute his sexy military lingo. After one last kiss, we say our goodbyes, and he heads back to the lair. I linger in the copy room for a minute, letting his loving words reverberate around in the cavern of my mind.
He’s absolutely right. The baby is ours.
I’m not wasting more thoughts on that. I won’t let those monsters take the joy of having his baby away from me.
Not two minutes after I get back to my desk, Boss Dad comes breezing in. “Good morning, Lettie. Can I see you in my office in five?”
“Yes, sir.”
He freezes beside my desk, casting an arched brow at me from over his shoulder. “Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?”
“My memory is faulty at best. Suppose I have your genes to blame for that.” I lean closer to the spot where he hovers, wiggling my fingertips like I’m about to tell him a secret. “Plus, I like messing with you.”
He tries to hide it, but the corners of his mouth twitch and slowly pull up with a grin. “Five minutes.”
“You got it, sir ,” I holler to his retreating back, fighting off a giggling fit.
Honestly, I love messing with him.
A deep bellow of a laugh meets my ears before he disappears into his office. Despite the awkward distance between us, I like working with him. And I suspect he’s getting used to having me around.
While I wait for time to crawl, I read through emails, sending back the standard response Peggy provided for me regarding requests for new protection services. Redleg isn’t taking new cases because of the Lenkov scourge. As a result, past clients are starting to complain when our intake specialists tell them they can’t rehire us. They’ve all got some song and dance story as to why they should be the exception.
Sooner than I was expecting, Big Al buzzes me on the intercom. “Five minutes is up.”
“ Oh shit ,” I mutter to myself. Pressing the button, I respond, “On my way.”
I need to remember to set an alarm when he gives me a deadline. He’s punctual as hell, and that doesn’t jive with my ADHD time blindness.
Flouncing into his office with a notepad in hand, I sputter my customary apologies. It’s becoming a morning ritual. “Sorry. Lost track of time checking emails.”
He leans back in his chair and steeples his hands in front of him. “It’s fine. Truthfully, it was only four minutes, but I like messing with you too.”
We share a laugh, and once again, I’m reminded he’s definitely my father. That’s the perfect way to get me back for teasing him.
“What do you have for me today?”
“I’ve only got a few things, but the main one is a message I need your help decoding.”
“What message?”
“As you know, I’ve been attempting to get in touch with Savin and Tasha via my contact at WITSEC. And while we can’t speak directly, they did relay a message this morning. Problem is, it doesn’t make sense to me. I’m taking a shot in the dark that you might be able to interpret it since you know Tasha.” He scratches his jawline. “And my gut says you can help.”
I’ve heard about his legendary gut. And not in the beer belly way. He’s got some freaky sixth sense.
My knee bobs, and I click my pen repeatedly. “Okay. What’s the topic?”
“The question I sent was about the box.” He raises his brows, ensuring I’m up to speed.
“The one they found at the house?”
“Yeah.”
“The other day, Tomer and I discussed the box and looked through it. Tasha showed it to me when we were in the house together, but I have no idea what it could mean to the case. It was just comfort items Savin smuggled inside for her.”
Nodding, he taps across his tablet screen. “Right. So here’s the message we got from them. What do you make of it?”
Once he pulls up the message, he spins the tablet around and slides it across his desk at me. I rise slightly from my chair, leaning forward for a better view.
I read it aloud. “Best thing about butterflies is deep inside cocoon is where magic happens.”
It’s even written in Tasha’s broken English.
My eyes scan the sentence three more times as I attempt to figure out what the hell that could possibly mean. When I return to my seat, I scratch the message onto my notepad before I forget what it said. Perhaps something will come to me later.
“It’s like a riddle. I suspect they didn’t want to answer me directly because they don’t know who might intercept the communication. They aren’t very trusting.” He takes the tablet back. “I take it from your face you don’t know what it means.”
I shake my head, nibbling on my lip. “Not really. Did it come from Tasha or Savin?”
“They’re together. So it could be either of them. Or both. My contact didn’t say.”
“Interesting.” Flicking my gaze to the ceiling, I repeat the message in my head. The rhythmic click of my pen oddly soothes me. “Well, Tasha called me butterfly . I wonder if it was a message for me.”
“The gut never leads me astray.” His face brightens, and he pumps his fist. “Why did she call you that?”
My stomach sours a bit at the memory, and I close my eyes to stave off the discomfort. Then again, I haven’t vomited for a half hour, so maybe it’s that. “I used to sing to calm everyone down, and the song I favored had a lyric mentioning butterflies.”
“How’s therapy going?”
No blinker for that lane change.
My eyes snap back to his. “Um. Fine.”
“You’re doing well then? Emotionally? As good as can be expected?”
Even if I don’t know him well yet, it’s clear he’s a kind man. Wish he’d spare some of that kindness for Tomer. Then again, Boss Dad was deceived for far longer than I was. Guess it makes sense he’s still bitter.
I’m still gonna be pissy about it, though. That’s my pregnant prerogative.
He tips his head forward, reminding me to answer him. Oops . His gut never fails, and neither does my squirrel.
“Yeah. Therapy is going great. Better than expected.”
His returning stare is slightly unnerving but also comforting. He doesn’t speak. Simply looks at me. Or through me.
“What?” I ask when the silence stretches a bit too long for my tastes.
He runs his palm over his face from forehead to chin. “Just trying to determine if you’re really fine or full of bullshit.”
“If you find the answer, let me know. I’ve been curious about that myself,” I jest.
He grins at me, sincerity woven into his features. “Will you go to the lair with me to talk about it with the team? Since she called you butterfly, I’m wondering if maybe you can help us figure it out. Unless you don’t think you’re able to discuss it. No shame if you’re not up to it.”
Aww . That’s sweet.
“I’m happy to try. Let’s roll, chief.”
If the grimace he makes is any indication, he hates chief more than he hates sir .
Tucking that away for future use.
I start to stand, but he puts his hand out to stop me. “Hold up. Before we go, I want to talk about two other things.”
“You’re the boss.”
His expression shifts from openly amiable to something harder to read. “First, I want to apologize.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
My head rears back, shock smacking me upside the forehead. “For what?”
“I haven’t... uh.” He folds his lips into his mouth, then drags his hand down his face again. “I haven’t done enough to get to know you yet. And I’m sorry for that. I’ll do better.”
“Well, thanks for sayin’ that, but an apology ain’t necessary. You don’t owe me nothin’.”
Well, butter my biscuit . I didn’t think I was irritated by his treatment, but perhaps I am, given the spontaneous appearance of my twang.
“Yeah, but?—”
Opting to make peace over this, I interrupt him. “Big Al, I get that this is a rough time for you and your company. I had no expectations for how this would go. I sort of feel like we’re making the best of a weird situation.”
He does that look through me thing again.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to knock that shit off unless he’s gonna pay a deposit for the room he wants to rent in my head. However, smarting off to my birth father, who is also my employer, probably isn’t a good idea. Occasionally, I listen to my own good advice.
“I heard you refer to me as Boss Dad the other day.”
Again with the lane changes sans blinker. This man is a danger on the road. Someone needs to revoke his license.
“It was something I thought was funny to say. Sorry. I won’t do it again.”
He flashes his palms at me. “No, it’s not that. I liked it.”
A brewing giggle makes my cheek hurt until I set it free. “What?”
“It’s been awkward not knowing how to refer to each other. I can’t force a connection out of nowhere, but hearing it... I don’t know. It made me feel a little closer to you in a small way.”
My filter completely malfunctions. “Is that why you gave me this job? To feel closer without actually getting closer?”
He glances at his chest, fidgeting with his shirt. “Maddie accused me of the same thing.”
“I’m sorry. I was out of line to ask that. You don’t need to answer. Most of the time, whatever’s in my head comes barreling out before I have a chance to think better of it. I’m working on fixin’ that.”
“It’s an entirely fair question.” He finally meets my eyes again. “I don’t know the answer, but I don’t regret asking you to fill in for Peg. I’m glad you’re working here. Aside from getting to know you, I think you’re doing a fantastic job. Few too many trips to the copy room, but a fine job, nonetheless.”
My cheeks warm with a surge of blood.Immediately changing the subject, I ask, “What was the other thing you wanted to discuss before we head to the lair?”
“Tomer.”
The speed of my pen clicking sharply increases. “What about him?”
His nose wrinkles. “Is he, um... is he okay?”
For once, I bite my tongue instead of screaming out my knee-jerk response: Go down the hall and ask him yourself so he knows you give a flippity fark about him!
While counting to ten, I clip my pen on the cover of my notepad and stand. After a deep breath, I meet him squarely in the eyes and let the sentiment loose anyhow. “Maybe you should ask him that yourself. Perhaps he’d like to know that you still give a shit about him. Call it a hunch.”
I march toward the door, making it clear I won’t be a messenger girl. He needs to work out his shit with Tomer. I love that he cares, but it’s not good enough for me to know.
Tomer needs to hear Big Al’s concern far more than I do.
And my hormones are kicking up enough to make me defensive as hell over the man who’s been treated like shit for most his life. Maybe he wouldn’t have drawn out his lie for quite so long if he knew he was valuable and worth loving even if he makes mistakes.
Argh . Men and their emotional constipation.
When I get to the door, I check to see if Big Al is following. He isn’t. Just sitting there, staring straight ahead at the spot I was standing. Looking like he’s trying to figure out who knocked him down and stole his teeth.
It was me. And I’m shoving them in my pocket. He can have them back when he learns to act right.
“Should we go, Boss?”
He blinks twice and stands, dusting his hands along the front of his shirt. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
A smidgen of guilt creeps into my chest over my snarky attitude. Fortunately, my persistent nausea makes that guilt so uncomfortable it quickly exits the way it came.
I’ve had enough guilt and shame for one lifetime.
Good riddance.