Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
ALLISON
“So you want to make me a grandfather?” The imposing man who was, thankfully, very small on Allison’s laptop, smiled smugly.
Ah, that’s where Wells gets it.
Allison sat up straighter. “I would like to have a baby, and it seems like this might be my best option.”
“I like the idea of a grandchild,” Geoffrey Maroo said, pondering. “My law empire could continue.”
Allison swallowed a snort.
“Alright.” He clapped his hands together. “We have twelve minutes before I bill another five hundred dollars, so let’s make this quick.”
Allison sucked in a breath at the abrupt change. She’d opted for Wells’s father after learning he was an incredibly well-respected attorney in Philadelphia.
In fact, she’d had a hard time getting time with him until she’d used Wells and Olivia’s names as a referral.
She’d briefly considered talking to Martha about representing her, but frankly, she liked her too much to drag her through this.
“Let’s make sure that we protect you against my idiot son,” Geoffrey said, texting somebody as he spoke.
Allison frowned. “I wouldn’t call him—”
“An idiot?” he said, looking up at the camera briefly before going back to his phone. “He lost to me, didn’t he, Alice?”
“It’s, um, Allison.”
“That’s what I said,” he said as he typed on his phone, not looking at her. “So what if the baby dies?” he said, setting his phone to the side.
Allison’s heart froze. “What?”
“If something happens to the child.”
Allison was completely thrown. Who the hell did he think he was? “Like before it’s born?”
“At any point before it’s eighteen. You should get restitution, right?”
“From…Wells?”
“Or at least make sure that he’s paying half the funeral costs.”
Allison panicked. “Why is this the first thing we’re talking about?”
“We don’t need to think too much about this.
Just covering all your bases. The draft that you sent over,” he said, clicking on his computer, “covered the basics: child care costs, how you’d split custody, costs for having a baby, holidays.
This assumes, by the way, that you’ll live in the same zip code? ”
“Oh, yeah.” She’d assumed they’d both stay in Fairwick Falls. “That’s what I assumed—”
“Travel costs will be provided at the expense of the parent who moves. I’m sure you’ll live in that little town forever, right?” he said, his cheeks tensing into a condescending fake smile.
Wells seemed to have a lot of big ideas, and maybe one would take him away from Fairwick Falls someday.
“I…guess that makes sense,” Allison said, feeling a weird mix of hate and appreciation for this man. Must be a genetic trait.
“How long will you try getting pregnant if it doesn’t work? If your oven is out of order,” Geoffrey said, typing into a screen off to the side, not looking at her.
“My…my oven?” she stammered.
“Not to be rude”—too late—“but you’re no spring chicken,” the ancient man said.
Allison’s mouth fell open.
He finally looked at the camera. “How long will you try before you cut him loose?”
They hadn’t talked about that. “I, um.” She gulped. “I guess a year?”
He whistled as if she was asking for the moon and typed. “Twelve months…for the geriatric…pregnancy,” he said under his breath.
Her blood was running hot and cold as she alternated between panic and boiling anger.
“And will you be sleeping with other people while you’re trying to get pregnant?”
“No,” Allison said, scandalized.
“And can Wells?”
“Oh, I mean, I assumed not.”
“We don’t assume in law. And what about after you’re pregnant? Are you both free to do as you please?”
She chipped at her nails. “I mean, I, um…”
“What about prior approval before introducing a romantic partner to your child?”
“Oh, um…I’d want to talk to him about it.”
He sighed as if she was a child, shaking his head. “I’m noting that he needs written permission from you first.” Click, click, more typing on his end. “And what compensation are you asking for from Wells?”
She shook her head. “I’m not a surrogate.” Was this evil, old man confused?
“I’m aware.” He took off his glasses, looking annoyed with her. “You’re providing a life-threatening service that would otherwise cost him into the mid-six figures. You don’t think you should be compensated?”
Her head swirled, trying to keep up with him. “I don’t want payment to have my own baby.”
He laughed. “That’s where you and I differ.
I want to be paid for everything. Speaking of which, we’ve got three minutes left,” he said, looking at a very expensive watch.
“I’ll have my paralegal draw up the edits and send them over to Wells.
I’m glad you’re tall. Maybe you’ll make a linebacker.
I’ve always wanted an Eagles player in the family. ”
“Linebacker?” Allison said, trying to keep up.
“That’s our time,” he said with a perfunctory smile that only showed his canines, and the screen went black.
Allison felt dizzy.
That’s who Wells might become: a shark with a soulless husk of a man inside of it.
She’d taken the call in Bloom’s studio. Her eyes caught on the bed she and Wells had shared.
The kiss that still made her tingle.
The moment that it almost tipped into something more and she’d lost her self-control.
But this is all off if he’s going to turn into that man.
ALLISON
Need to talk. Right now. Where are you?
WELLS
At the diner.
Two minutes later, she was pushing into Canon’s Diner, looking for Wells.
No one was there.
ALLISON
Where are you?
The swinging door to the kitchen opened briefly, a whistle sounding from behind it.
Allison stalked to the back, swinging the door to the kitchen wide open. “We cannot have a baby. I just talked to your dad—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Wells’s hands came to her arms, but she wrenched out of them to pace back and forth.
“He’s cold and calculating. He wants me to ask you for money. Make him a linebacker. He talked about our baby dying.”
Wells rubbed a hand over his face. “I wish you would’ve called the highway motorcycle guy.”
She pivoted at the end of the salad station. “People usually turn into their parents, so I have to assume that you’re going to be exactly like him.”
She passed the spices, and he grabbed her wrist before she pivoted again.
“Hey, hey.” His voice was quiet.
The heat of his hand felt like a searing golden lasso around her.
She paused, breathing hard with panic.
“I will never. Ever, ever, ever,” he said, emphasizing the last word with a squeeze of her wrist, “be like my father. I would rather die. Okay?” he said, catching her eyes.
He was earnest and serious, an unusual combination for him. It caught her off guard.
She nodded. “Okay.”
“Promise you won’t be like your mom?” he said with a twinkle in his eye that she was beginning to like, she begrudgingly realized.
She tried not to smile. “Promise.” She looked down at where his hand was still wrapped around her wrist, and he let go.
The flannel sleeves rolled up on Wells’ arms caught her attention.
“Why are we in the back of the diner?” she said, suddenly confused at the apron he had on.
“I, um.” He cleared his throat as he wiped down the surfaces. “I own it,” he said, pulling off the apron.
“So you’re the one who ruined it? Does Pop know? Does your mother?” she said, finally piecing all his odd choices together.
He growled but then sighed. “I’m working on it.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “I should have added a ‘no crazy ideas’ clause,” she muttered.
Wells laughed as he hung up his apron. “Anything else that the bastard asked you?”
“He did ask if we would be, um, monogamous while we’re trying to get pregnant.”
“That’s never been a strength of my father, monogamy.”
“And then what happened if we met someone afterwards.”
Wells’s eyebrows shot up as if he was considering this. “Are you planning to date with a newborn?”
Allison shrugged nonchalantly, feeling like a powerful partner in this negotiation. “I might.”
Wells’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you going to date?” he said, looking territorial.
She kind of liked it. “Whoever I want.”
“Then I guess I can too.”
A flare of…something…she wouldn’t look too closely at burned in her chest.
I don’t like that at all.
“I guess you could,” she said, as if it didn’t bother her. “But we should have to check with one another before we introduce them to the child.”
Wells nodded as if this was acceptable.
“I also asked him,” Allison added, not looking at him, “to add in a repeat clause.” She played with the belt on her coat. “If the first go-around was amenable, both parties might be open to a second child within a reasonable amount of time,” she said, her eyes darting up to gauge his reaction.
A wondrous, hopeful smile grew on his face. “You want multiple kids?” he said quietly.
She nodded, biting her lip. “I don’t want the baby to be alone.”
“I mean, they’ll have a whole community here,” he said, gesturing toward the street.
“So you’re not interested,” she said, her hopes falling. “It’s okay.”
“That’s not what I said,” Wells said, suddenly irritated, standing toe to toe with her. “Why are you so eager to make everything easy on everybody?” He squinted at her. “Do you want multiple kids?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “But it’s not something we’ve talked about, and I don’t want to…”
He drilled a finger into her shoulder as he frowned at her. “Is this something you want?”
“Yes,” she said, doubling down, steeling herself and glaring back at him.
“Good,” he said, smiling suddenly with an impish grin. “I do, too.”
They were so close to signing, to getting started on her dream, but there were so many things they hadn’t talked about. All the small details, and big ones like multiple kids.
Her mind whirled with all the things couples usually fought about. “How are you planning to discipline them?” she said, keeping her spine straight, trying out this new concept of asking for exactly what she wanted.
Wells shrugged. “Hadn’t thought that far.”
“Spanking?”
“Of course not.” He scoffed. “Daycare or nanny?”
“Daycare, nannies are too expensive.”
He widened his stance, energy in his eyes seeming to enjoy this. “Counteroffer: daycare two days a week for socialization, nanny that I pay for.”
“What if they want to quit an instrument after begging for lessons?”
“Are they good?”
Of course he’d care about that. “Does it matter?”
“I mean, a little. Unless it’s a drum set. Then yes, please god they can quit immediately. Public or private school?”
“Public,” she said decisively, standing taller. “Birthdays?”
“We do them together until they’re too cool for us.”
“Agreed, but only low-key birthdays. Store-bought cake, no more than twenty balloons. Homemade decorations.”
He scoffed. “Counteroffer, every year the budget goes up by one thousand dollars—”
“Counter-counteroffer, every year the budget goes up by one hundred dollars.”
He smirked like he’d won.
“And no live animals,” she added.
His face fell with annoyance.
Ha! Victory.
“Last name?” he asked.
“Mine,” they both said at the same time.
She poked his chest. “One of us might die from having a baby, so…mine.”
“We hyphenate. Yours first. First name?”
Fine. She blew out a breath. It felt like an impossible task to think about right now. “That’s…hard. I don’t know. What if we pick the wrong one?”
“We can think on it. But we both have to agree.”
She could picture endless arguments between them. “Will you be a jerk about it?”
“I’m never a jerk, I just—”
“Of course you are—”
He put a hand over her mouth, trying for an innocent just wait. “I just care a lot,” he said calmly, as if they were on the same team. Impossible. “I won’t be a jerk. Anything else?” His hand fell.
The energy shifted as she weighed his words. His father’s words still haunted her.
It was a dangerous business, being pregnant.
She bit her lip. “What if…what if it gets dangerous? And I…” She picked at her cuticles. “If I have to choose whether…” She couldn’t even say it out loud.
Wells’s brows furrowed. “Hey. It’s going to be fine. You’ll do great.” His hands rubbed her arms in a shocking display of care. “And if shit hits the fan…I know how to be a jerk on your behalf. Okay?”
She thought about it, then nodded.
“As for choosing…my mother raised a feminist.” He squeezed her arms, smiling shyly. “It’s your body, your choice. I understand you have more skin in the game during this part. I’d never want anything to happen to you.”
He leaned toward her slowly, and a stupid part of her thought he was going to hug her—kiss her cheek—something.
But the bubble burst when he pulled back with a broom in hand.
“Good,” she said, trying to shake off any tension from the rat’s nest of feelings in her head. Death, joy, caring, sex, hope, fear, and excitement knotted together endlessly.
“So we’ll start once everything’s signed and I’m ovulating.”
Wells checked his phone. “He sent it over,” he said, wiggling his phone. “And when would that be?”
“Next Wednesday.” She gulped, only squeezing her thighs together a little.
He scrolled on his phone, reading the contract.
She turned to the door. “I guess I should—”
“Wait.” He grabbed her wrist, his eyes never leaving the screen. “I don’t trust this motherfucker, so I have to read everything.” He dropped her wrist, but she stayed.
Her other hand wrapped around where the heat of it had been, wanting to keep it for some reason.
I’m going to have sex—maybe a lot of sex—with Wells Maroo.
He looked good today. The flannel shirt draped loosely over a dark t-shirt, the soft rolls of his chest and stomach looking mouthwateringly sexy, sturdy.
What would it feel like to be naked with him? To have sex with him?
Would he mind that she was bad at it?
She hadn’t shared that fun factoid yet.
He tapped a few buttons, and a whooshing sound of an email being sent made her stomach drop. “Signed.”
The air changed around her as awareness threaded through her. I’m standing next to The Man I’m Going to Have a Lot of Sex With.
The Man I’m Going to Have a Lot of Sex With is staring at me, inches away.
I should probably look up at The Man I’m Going to Have a Lot of Sex With.
He tugged her coat around her.
The weight of his hands on her stomach felt good.
His legs that straddled the space around her felt really good.
The closeness of him made her finally angle her head up, inches away from his mouth.
She’d kiss that mouth with its masculine curves and heady taste soon.
His mustache twitched in amusement. He looked like a cat that had eaten a deep fried diner canary. “Guess I’ll see you on Wednesday for our first fuck-pointment.”
All the yearning tension left her body at his stupidity, and she rolled her eyes, pushing him away. “Do not call it that.”
“Meet-bang? Fuck-sesh? Cum-sultation?”
“Ugh, you’re the worst.” She pushed through the kitchen door into the diner as his laughter echoed behind her.
She walked out into the chilly day feeling nervous, excited, anxious, and, though she’d never tell anybody else, just a little bit horny.