12. Candy
CHAPTER TWELVE
CANDY
W hat in the motherhood hell did I willingly get myself into?
I stand in the middle of a brightly painted rainbow themed nursery with white furnishings, hundreds of stuffed animals, and baby gadgets galore. The room smells like baby power—odd, since Opal’s daughter hasn’t been born yet.
To confirm she hadn’t delivered while I was away with the team in Sacramento, I discreetly peek at her stomach.
Nope. Still pregnant.
My bubbly friend is sporting a tiny baby bump and glowing like the angel she is. It’s cute if you’re into the whole pregnancy vibe. To me, it looks like a never-ending backache.
“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Opal gushes with enthusiasm, turning in a circle as she motions with her hands at the nursery. “Gauge told me to decorate it however I wanted it. He said to give our baby girl the room every little princess deserves.”
Gag.
Perhaps I’m being too judgy. I’m sure most little girls would love a room that looked like the board game Candy Land exploded on the walls .
“It’s…” I try to think of something positive to say off the top of my head, “…vibrant.”
There. That sounded nice. At least coming from me, it’s nice.
Opal beams, her smile reaching her ears. “Thank you. I want it to be a happy place for Aurora.”
“Aurora?”
Opal nods, still smiling. She cradles her belly affectionately. “Gauge said our daughter will be an MC princess. I thought giving her a Disney princess name was fitting.”
Poor kid is going to be smothered to death in frilly dresses. I imagine a cherub-cheeked, blond-haired baby with a rainbow colored ruffled dress twice the size of her body, hopelessly trying to crawl. I shake the scary image from my head, breaking out in goosebumps.
Babies are terrifying creatures. They’re noisy, sticky, and demanding little versions of their parents. Let’s hope Aurora has Opal’s demeanor. Lord help us if she’s anything like her daddy.
I feign a smile and quickly exit the nursery, afraid of catching baby-fever. It’s the one thing I never want to come down with.
Opal follows me downstairs to the main level into the pastel-colored living room—a more muted rainbow themed space. Poor Gauge. There’s not a hint of biker masculinity in this house other than himself when present. It’s a good thing he’s madly in love with his wife, or I think the overload of feminine touches would drive him bonkers.
I sink into one of her accent wingback chairs. Opal sits across from me on her lavender-colored couch, ogling me with enthusiasm.
“I see you and Butch have gotten a little closer,” Opal hedges, with a small smile. “I’ve been rooting for you two. Looks like my prayers won out.”
This time, I fail miserably at hiding my feelings. I frown, shifting uneasily in my chair.
“Oh. I’m sorry if I misspoke. You appeared together when you returned home. With how close you guys were standing to each other, holding hands. And Butch looked upset when you said you were coming with me to the house, like he didn’t like the idea of not being near you.”
Was Butch upset with me for leaving his side? He looked a little forlorn when I left with Opal. A swirl of hope circles my heart before I come to my senses. If Butch wants me, he’s not doing much to convince me he does.
Opal bites her thumbnail, sadness crossing her angelic face as she studies me.
I wave away her apology. No reason to be upset with Opal’s observation. Had I seen what she saw, I’d assume we were a couple, too.
“Do you wanna talk about it?”
Do I want to talk about my unknown relationship with Butch? Not really. But I don’t have an appointment with Brandon for a few days. He’s usually the one I ramble on about my feelings with, if not Butch.
I take a hesitant glance at Opal. The woman is Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Whatever I say to her will remain between us.
Pulling the trigger, I spill my guts. “A while back, Butch mentioned if I was interested in something more with him, to let him know. It took me a year to find myself again with therapy, but I felt good about pursuing a relationship with him. So I made a bold move last night when we came back to the hotel room we were sharing. We hooked up. And now it’s weird.”
Opal nods, understanding in her pale blue eyes. “The day after Gauge and I first had sex, I was super-confused, too. I wasn’t sure if I was a hookup to him, or if he wanted us to be more.”
Yes. She gets it. I turn my body in my seat to face her head-on, more willing to share my story.
“I don’t know what’s going on between us. Atlas called the team back home. We left right away this morning. There wasn’t a real discussion other than—” I bite my tongue, stopping myself from revealing Butch’s submissive kink. It’s not for me to share.
I release a tired sigh. “It’s complicated. ”
“Of course it’s complicated. You have unresolved business to discuss with him.”
“Yeah. I don’t know how to bring it up either. I’m not the best at communicating my feelings. And to make matters worse, I may have mentioned to him this morning I had a dream about us being married. He sort of got quiet—quieter than he already is.”
Opal opens her mouth in a long, “Oooh. Guys can be weird about marriage. It doesn’t mean Butch doesn’t want it. He could be internalizing what you told him.”
True. Butch definitely runs everything through his head, responding thoughtfully when needed.
I shrug. “Hopefully. I mean, he revealed something to me few people know about him. He wouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t serious about us—at least that’s what Ziggy said in a roundabout way to me on the way home.”
Opal gives me a tentative smile. “Is he worth it?”
I nervously run my fingers through my pink hair, nodding.
Her smile gets bigger. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“Like a lot,” I admit, my cheeks pulling up into a smile.
She gives my knee a gentle squeeze. “Then talk to him about your feelings.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes at my friend. “Opal, you’re the textbook example of keeping shit to yourself when you’re scared,” I accuse her, referring to her early days in the club when her childhood abuser scared her into silence.
“You’re right. I’m the perfect example of what not to do ,” she counters, unruffled. “You forget I see Brandon for therapy, too. Working with him has helped me tremendously when talking out my feelings. You’re stronger than the woman you were prior to seeking trauma counseling. If you want Butch to hear where you’re coming from, you gotta open up to him.”
Fuck. “It sounds uncomfortable.”
“Not gonna lie—it’s rough. But what’s going to hurt more? Keeping your feelings inside long term or ripping the Band-Aid off to hash it out?”
Dammit, Opal’s right.
She pats my knee one last time before placing her hands on her belly. “Talk to Butch. It’ll all work out. And the next thing you know, you’ll be walking around with a baby of your own.”
My grimace can’t be restrained.
Opal notices. Her eyes widen. “Um, do you not want kids?”
All this talk of babies makes me nauseated, ironic since I’m not pregnant and I have no intention of becoming a mother.
“Motherhood isn’t in my cards.”
“Oh.” Opal bites her bottom lips before hesitantly asking, “By choice?”
Her question has roots digging into my abusive past. “This is the one thing I’ve known about myself since an early age. I don’t want to be a mother.”
“I’m sorry if I’m being nosey. Can I ask why?”
The question is intrusive, but I’m not offended. Opal isn’t asking out of malice. She’s asking to understand.
“As long as I can remember, I’ve been surviving—from when I grew up with druggy parents to being forced to sleep with Lorenzo Bianchi’s customers. I’m finally living for myself, Opal. Maybe it’s selfish of me, but I don’t want to share my life taking care of a kid. I want to share it with a partner, doing what we want, when we want.”
I expect pushback from a baby-loving mother-to-be. Yet Opal surprises me. “I get it.”
“You do?” I ask, baffled.
“Yeah, I do. It’s not selfish to live child-free. Not everyone wants kids. And that’s fine. This is your life. You live it the way you want.”
My mind is boggled with how accepting my friend is of my choice. “Not everyone would agree with you.”
“No one else matters in your choices. Is Butch willing to be child-free?”
Butch! Shit .
We’ve never talked about kids. I don’t have a clue if he wants a family like many of his brothers do.
Hell, we had unprotected sex last night. Getting pregnant never came up.
Opal’s brow creases. “Candy? Are you okay?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “I need Plan B.”
The doorbell rings. We jump in our seats, startled.
Opal goes to the door, opening it. With a hitch in her voice, she says, “Hi, Butch. Come in.”
Crap. He’s here, like he said he’d be. And I’m far from ready to have an honest discussion with him.
My insides twist with anxiety. I peek around my chair, seeing my biker wordlessly make his way into the house. His eyes zone in on me like the bull’s-eye of a target, bringing his fine ass right to my side. He holds out his hand for me to take, waiting patiently.
Nervous, I place my shaking hand in his. He helps me from the chair and quietly guides me back to the door.
Opal looks between us with wide blue eyes. She stops me before Butch can pull me from the house. “Call if you need anything .”
By her tone, I realize anything means emergency contraceptive.
I give her a tight smile before I follow Butch outside into the cool fall air.