Wrong Question, Right Answer by Elle Casey
“No, I am not okay.”
The door opens farther. “Was it negative?”
Why on earth would I be so miserable if it were negative? If I didn’t feel so shitty right now, I’d bust out of this bathroom and put him in a headlock just for being so stupid.
His voice is closer now, just outside the door of my stall. “Talk to me, babe. Tell me what’s going on.”
He’s calling me babe again, and it’s killing me. He’s already acting weird. This is going to ruin everything between us. “I can’t right now, Lucky. Go away.” I put my hand on the door where his face might be but let my fingers slide away. I love him and I hate him. The feelings are hitting me with equal force. Have I always loved him? I think about it for a few long seconds and realize that I have. I’ve tried for ten years to love him like a brother, but it’s not going to work anymore. Not that it ever did. Maybe that’s why Charlie was always jealous of him. Maybe deep down, Charlie knew he wasn’t the guy I really wanted.
“Are you going number two?” Lucky asks gently.
My jaw drops open and my hand clenches into a fist at my side. I’m half pissed and half delirious. A laugh escapes my throat before I can stop it. “No! Shut up!” And I thought today could not get any worse. My face is flaming red at the idea of Lucky catching me pooping in the ladies’ bathroom.
I can hear the smile in the bastard’s voice. “Listen, it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If you’re building a log cabin in there, just say the word. I can come back.”
He is so going to die. I race to get myself situated and the bag collected from the spot at my feet. “No, wait. I change my mind. Don’t go anywhere. Stay right there so I can kick your ass.” I turn around and kick the handle on the toilet to make it flush. Then I unlock the door and throw it open. I am so ready to hurt somebody right now.
Lucky is smiling and his arms are open wide. I have never seen him look as beautiful or as happy. “Come to Papa,” he says.
There is so much hope there, so much kindness, and so much—dare I say—love, I can’t deal. I feel like my head and my heart are both going to explode right here in the pub’s bathroom. I take one step toward him and then I crumple, crying all the way down.
He moves lightning quick, gathering me in his arms and pulling me up against his chest. He holds me tightly while I sob in his arms.
“Shhh, shhh, it’s going to be okay.” He rubs and pats my back frantically, then his hand moves to my head where he does the same thing, turning my hair into a rat’s nest of knots. “I’ll take care of everything. You won’t have to do anything but put your feet up and eat chocolate all day.”
“This is not a joke,” I cry out. “This is my life. My life is over.”
Lucky forces me away from him so he can look me in the eye. “This is not just your life. This is my life too.” He squeezes my shoulders hard. “This is our life.”
My sobs lessen enough for me to speak. “Our lives.”
He shakes his head at me. “No. Our life. Singular. This is you and me together as a team. This is not you alone or me alone with the two of us working on parallel paths. We’re now merged into one, like it or not.”
I glare at him, wiggling out of his grip. “Not.”
He gets a cocky expression and shrugs. “Tough. You danced with the devil and now you’re going to pay the price.”
His words feel like a knife burying itself in my heart. Without thinking, I reach up and slap him hard across the face.
He doesn’t move except to rest his hand on the cheek that’s flaming red. His voice is very calm. “I have no idea why you just did that, but I’m going to let it go because you’re pregnant. It’s probably the hormones.”
Angry tears drip from my eyes. “Don’t you ever bring Charlie up to me again.”
His expression goes from angry to confused. “Charlie? Who said anything about Charlie?”
“You did,” I say bitterly, feeling betrayed. “That ‘dance with the devil’ bullshit.”
He’s still confused for a couple seconds and then his eyes widen. “That’s not what I meant. I wasn’t talking about Charlie; I was talking about my dick.”
Now it’s my turn to be confused. My gaze drops to his waist and the bulge beneath. “You call your dick the devil?”
His expression goes sheepish. “It was supposed to sound poetic. Dance with the devil. Sleep with me. Get it?”
In all the years I’ve been around him, I have never known Lucky to be so goofy. I start laughing and can’t stop.
He sighs loudly. “It’s really not that funny.”
“Oh, yes it is,” I gasp, and then fly into another fit of hysteria. I barely get my next words out. “Oh my god! Hilarious! I can’t believe you call your dick the devil!”
“Shush!” he urges, trying not to smile. “I never called my dick the devil!”
The door opens all of a sudden and two girls come tumbling in. They stop short when they see us standing there. Lucky’s last words are still ringing around the space.
I pause, gaining momentary control over my hysteria, but when I notice they’re both staring at Lucky’s crotch, I start laughing all over again.
“Excuse us. Sorry.” Lucky grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me out of the bathroom. “We didn’t mean to intrude on your private space.”
I’m still laughing until his next words are offered to the two women as the door slowly swings shut. “She was really constipated so I had to come in and coach her through it.”
Before I can react, he runs across the bar away from me. Instead of chasing after him, though, I walk over to the bar and sit down in my old spot. Throwing the stupid bag of pregnancy tests up on the bartop next to me, I breathe out a long sigh. I went into the bathroom as one person with one life, and exited as someone entirely different with a completely unknown and unforeseen life ahead of me. It’s almost like the moment right after I killed Charlie: life changed in an instant, into something I never imagined for myself. Unbelievable. Well done, God. You kicked my ass again. I nod with respect. His power is undeniable.
Danny comes walking over with his eyebrows raised. “You ready for a beer yet?”
I shake my head. “No more alcohol for me. I’ll take an orange juice on the rocks with a cherry, if you please.” I feel like I’ve just done a whole handful of drugs. My heart has helium in it. I should be completely and totally destroyed by this news that has just been delivered in a bathroom stall at the pub I’ve been hanging out in for over ten years, but I’m not. Now that I’ve acknowledged the lack of control I have over my future, it’s as if somebody has thrown open a door to a whole new world, and I’m on the threshold. I’m standing there trying to decide whether I should step through, and it’s awful but invigorating at the same time.
And then Lucky is behind me and his shoulder is touching mine as he slides up onto the barstool next to me. I realize that we’re both standing on that threshold, looking out across a vast expanse together. A mysterious world that I never dreamed I’d be a part of awaits. It feels a tiny bit better knowing I’m not alone.
“Make that two OJs,” Lucky says.
Danny eyes us quizzically for a few seconds before moving off. I turn to look at Lucky at the same time as he turns to me.
“Do you mind if I sit here and have an OJ with you?” he asks.
“Could I stop you?”
He shrugs. “You could, but I really wish you wouldn’t.”
“I won’t.” I feel warm inside at the admission.
His smile is back this time, soft and slow, kind and sweet. He leans in and kisses me on the cheek. “You’re one hot mama. Have I ever told you that?”
“No. But say that again in eight months, would you please? I have a feeling I’m going to need to hear it more then.” I turn around and face forward as Lucky’s arm slides across my back to rest at my waist.
“And every day until then,” he promises.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After Lucky drops
I’m just laying my head down on the pillow a little over an hour later when my doorbell rings.
I go over to the bedroom across the hall and peer out the window with a view of my front lawn. The only thing I see is Lucky’s car in the driveway.
I run out of the room and down the stairs. Shoving the small curtain in the side window of my front door aside, I catch a view of Lucky’s back. He’s headed to his car, and there are two suitcases on my front porch.
I turn off the alarm and open the door. “What the hell . . . ?”
Lucky comes up the front walk with two more suitcases under his arms. He’s not breathing heavy, making me think they’re empty.
“What are you doing?” I stand in the front entrance with my hand resting on my cocked hip.
He doesn’t even look at me as he sets the two cases down. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re bringing a bunch of empty suitcases over to my house. Did you suddenly run out of storage space?”
“These aren’t empty.” He looks up and flashes me a grin. “These are full, baby.” He turns and goes back down my front steps, headed for his car again.
“Full of what?” Did he go out and buy baby clothes? We don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl yet, and I read on the Internet that lots of pregnancies don’t make it past the first three months anyway. This could be a complete false alarm.
“Full of my clothes and stuff. What else would they be full of?”
“Why are you bringing your clothes here?”
He shuffles up the stairs and drops the last two suitcases. Then he comes over and stands in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders. He stares deep into my eyes as he speaks. “What’s the matter? Do you already have pregnancy brain? Isn’t it a little early for that?”
I knock his hands off my shoulders. “Shut up. Is that even a thing? What is that? Pregnancy brain . . .” I feel panicky again. I need my brain for work.
He reaches into the side pocket of a suitcase and pulls out a book. “I marked the page for you.” He points to a dog-eared corner. “You should read this thing. You have no idea how much your body and your brain are going to change over the next nine months.”
My panic increases as I take the book from him and look down at the title. “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.” I look up at him. “Are you serious? You actually bought this?”
“Yeah. As soon as I dropped you off, I went to the bookstore. And then I started reading and I realized, you need me here.” He huffs out a breath and continues. “I know it’s not cool to just shove myself into your life, but hear me out . . .”
He pauses, maybe waiting for an argument to come from me, but I’m too stunned to find one. He was reading pregnancy books in the store right after he left me?
“Toni, you’re an independent woman, and I respect that completely. I do. And I know you well enough to know that no matter how hard this pregnancy gets, you’ll get through it. You’ll handle it, and you won’t ask for help, even when you need it.”
“That’s not . . .”
He holds up a hand, cutting off my disagreement. “Let me finish . . . As I was saying, you’re very independent and you’re used to doing things yourself. But, I think this time, it would be a mistake to try and do that.”
“To be myself?”
“No, to do it all alone. This pregnancy will take over your whole body. And your head. You’ll get sick and really tired, and you’ll need help around here.” He looks all around us. “Your place is huge. It’s too much work for one person as it is, but a pregnant person? It’s way too much. Impossible. The place will start falling down around your ears, and then a baby will arrive and it’ll be hopeless.”
I look at his suitcases, the book dangling in my hand. “So you left me here, went to the bookstore, skimmed a few books, and then you packed all your stuff?” And he broke some kind of land speed record getting all this done in just over an hour.
“Yes, I did. I started reading the book and I realized . . . It’s not fair to you that you do all this work on your own. You need me here. I’m partly responsible for you being in this position.”
That’s when I realize that I’m not panicking nearly as much as he apparently is. I roll my eyes. “I’m pretty sure I can handle this myself and that my house is not going to fall down around my ears.”
“Okay, maybe you can handle it alone, but you shouldn’t.” He picks up two suitcases, almost shoving me out of the way to get past and into the front hallway. “Just read the first chapter. You’ll see what I mean.”
I wander into the living room as I thumb through the pages. Different words jump out at me: Fetus. Placenta. Pre-eclampsia. Mucus plug. The pictures are horrible. I fall onto the couch, forgetting there are no cushions there. My butt hits a fabric-covered board and I moan, leaning sideways to rub my tailbone.
Lucky appears out of nowhere. “Are you okay? Are you having cramps?”
I look at him, scowling. “No, I’m not having cramps, fool. I fell on the couch.”
He nods. “Yep. You’re going to start losing your balance. It’s totally normal, though, so don’t worry.”
“My balance?” I start skimming pages again. This shit is sounding scarier by the second. I thought all I had to worry about were stretch marks and a little weight gain.
“Don’t worry, I bought a bunch of other books,” he says from the front porch. “We’ll study. We’ll figure everything out, and I’ll be totally prepared for the big day. No surprises.”
I let the book drop to the couch at my side. “Don’t you think you might be taking this a little too far?”
He brings in the last of his two cases and drops them at the foot of the stairs, shutting the door behind him. He locks it and sets my alarm code. “You’re bringing a human being into the world.” He joins me in the living room and sits on the table opposite me, our knees touching. “You thought working for Bourbon Street Boys was tough? Wrong. Forget it. Creating life and becoming a mother will be nothing compared to that. No, it’ll be everything compared to that. We need to be prepared.” He rubs his hands together like a mad scientist.
My ears feel hot. “You’re starting to scare me.”
“Good.” He pats me on the knee and stands. “I’m going to go make you a steaming mug of herbal tea. No more caffeine for you anymore.” He shouts from out in the hallway, “Cute PJs, by the way!”
I shake my head as the sound of his footsteps fades away. What have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I sit there on the couch by myself for a little while as I listen to the sounds of Lucky preparing tea coming from the kitchen. I’m a little stunned by his drastic reaction. Sure, right now it looks as if we’ll be bringing a human being into the world—I get that this is a big deal—but does he honestly think he needs to move in here? And does he really believe he can just do it without discussing it with me first?
Yeah . . . he’s definitely panicking. I recognize that men do this when they’re out of their depth; I’ve seen Thibault lose his shit on more than one occasion, usually when confronted with confusing female reactions to various things. There’s a reason he’s still single, and it isn’t because he understands women.
I stand, knowing I need to handle this now and as gently as possible. Obviously, I’m going to have to channel some other woman’s personality or something, because doing anything gently is not generally my style.
Walking into the kitchen, I’m struck by the warmth that fills me when I see Lucky standing at my counter getting mugs and sugar out of the cabinets. He already looks like he belongs here. Like he has a right to be
When that thought floats through my mind, I go a little bitter. I don’t like people pushing me around and making decisions for me. Lucky doesn’t have any more right to live with me than Dev does.
Guilt nags my brain. Okay, so he might have just a little right to be involved in my life. But not this much. I sigh at my waffling emotions. I thought it was just going to be the pregnancy thing that would be hard, but apparently, everything about it is going to give me fits, including my weird and undefined relationship with the baby’s father.
Lucky has been in my life for a really long time, and it doesn’t exactly feel wrong to have him here doing what he’s doing. If I’m being honest with myself, I have to admit I’ve imagined what it would be like to share my living space with him. Of course, I always swatted those ideas away when I realized how horribly they’d mess up our situation with the team, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t there. I guess I’m going to find out what it would be like to live with Lucky, if only for one night. The idea thrills me way more than it should.
He looks at me over his shoulder, his expression serious. “You really shouldn’t have any sugar.”
I keep my response light, even though I want to tell him to shove his advice up where the sun don’t shine. He’s trying to be a good pregnancy partner, and I can’t fault him for it. “That’s fine; I don’t like sugar in my tea anyway.” I walk over to the table and sit down, taking my customary seat at the head of the table.
“I haven’t had a chance to read much in the books yet, but I did see some things about diet in there.” He pours steaming water from my kettle into two mugs. “You’re supposed to limit your intake of sugar and caffeine, and you’re not allowed to have any alcohol.”
I sigh. “Don’t worry, I get it. No more fun. My life is over.” I roll my eyes to the ceiling and contemplate the stretch marks that will surely cover my body in the next nine months. Awesome. Just what I wanted.
He picks up the mugs and walks over to the table, putting one down in front of me before taking the spot next to me. He settles back into the chair and stares at me, tapping his finger on the handle of his mug. “Your life is not over. It’s just starting.” He smiles like it’s no big deal, us sitting here talking about a baby growing in my belly.