Come To Me (Owned Book 3) (31 page)

“O
h my god, Vic!”

“What?” I shot straight up, eyes meeting nothing but black. “What’s wrong? Is it the baby? Are you okay?” Without a word, Lenny jumped out of bed and ran straight to the bathroom. I threw off the blankets and quickly followed suit. Leaning on the frame, I rubbed my eyes and adjusted to the light. Lenny thrust open the mirrored cabinet as I repeated my questions.

“I’m on medication now, that’s what!” She pulled out orange bottle after orange bottle and started reading the names. “What if these are killing the baby?”

“That’s why you woke me up at three in the morning?” At that she threw a pill bottle at my head. I ducked and when I stood, I tried a different tactic: “There’s nothing we can do about it now, Lennox. Get some sleep, that’s the best thing you can do for the baby. We have an appointment tomorrow morning.”

Hands gripping the marble, she stared into the mouth of the sink. “It’s not even born yet and I’m already fucking up.” I went and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her back to bed. Lenny wasn’t fucking up, and I could spend the entire night telling her how good she’d been doing, but the best thing for her and the baby was sleep. I settled her into my body and with the skin of her neck against my lips, nodded off again.

It didn’t even feel like minutes later that she was waking me up again.

“Vic…”
Poke.
“Vic…”
Poke…
“Vic…” I groaned and rolled over in bed. Once again I wouldn’t be sleeping that night. I’d trained for months, with the military and with GEM, to work under sleep deprivation. I’d become a hardened sentry, impervious to fatigue. Who would have guessed my training was really preparing me for Lenny?

“What’s up?” I mumbled.

“I think maybe we should break up.”

“Why?” I lifted my head onto my arm. Lenny was already sitting up in bed, cross-legged, and staring at the wall.

“I’m no good for you Vic.” Even though I couldn’t see it in the dark, I knew what her face looked like. It was the determined stare she got when she was sure she was doing something for my own good. It was the twisted grimace she got when she felt she was worthless. It was the hardened brow she had when she felt she had to leave to make my life better.

“What is good for me, then?” I probed.

“I don’t know…” Lenny sighed, wringing her hands. “Some nice girl who will treat you right and not burden you with all my shit.” She gestured to her rounding belly and then to her head.

I laughed, actually laughed. I didn’t used to laugh, not before Lenny. There wasn’t much I found funny. Lenny, though, she was hysterical. She had her wit, but even when she wasn’t trying to be funny she made me laugh. Like right then, she thought I’d be good with some ‘nice girl’?

“Lennox Moore.” I dragged her from her position and into my side. “If you think there is anyone out there better suited for me than you, well…” I kissed her neck, trying to get her to see my side. She sighed as I placed another kiss on her collarbone. When I snaked my arm around her rounding tummy and moved to embrace her mouth, her eyes had already closed.

“W
ell you are definitely pregnant,” the doctor said with a smile on his face. Lenny and I frowned; neither of us were amused.

“And what about the medication?” Lenny pressed.

“In an ideal situation you wouldn’t be on any medication,” he said, shrugging. “Most pregnancies aren’t ideal.”

“Get to the fucking point,” I growled. Lennox dug her nails into my forearm, signaling me to cut my shit, no doubt. I didn’t care. I didn’t need a runaround from Patch Adams. Was the baby going to be okay, or wasn’t it?

The doctor, Dr. Roth, eyed me coolly before continuing. “Yes. We are fortunate enough that the medication is category B, meaning there have been some studies and they haven’t proven to be of any risk to the fetus. Obviously we’ll need to get you on vitamins. You shouldn’t have been drinking with this medication, but if you have, stop.”

“I haven’t been drinking.” Wide-eyed, Lenny looked from me then to the doctor. Could we hope? Was it time to start hoping? Had we finally done something
right?

“Good. Well…” Dr. Roth spun away from us and back to his computer, as if he was actually looking something up. I was 99% sure the douche had been playing Minecraft for half of the appointment. He turned back to us and said, “Let’s make an appointment for a couple of weeks, unless you feel you need to see me sooner.”

Lenny dug her nails deeper into my skin. “Should I need to see you sooner? Do you think something will go wrong?”

The doctor laughed, and I felt like punching him in the nose. “No, everything should be fine.” Though neither of us said it, the feeling was in the air. Lenny and I were the personification of Murphy’s Law. We made him print out a list of anything that might go wrong.

Lenny looked over the list as we drove back: placental abruption, gestational diabetes, umbilical cord prolapse, blood clots…she read it all out and detailed the symptoms and prognosis. I prepared myself for each and every one.

“Symptoms include high blood pressure, water retention, protein in the urine, can lead to fatal eclampsia…what about Vic for a boy?”

“What?” I turned, not sure I’d heard her correctly.

“What about Vic if it’s a boy?” Her blue eyes were wide, waiting for me to answer. I realized then she was talking about names, not complications. Fucking fantastic segue, Lenny.

“Why?” I asked, turning my head back to the road.

“What do you mean, ‘why?’ Because it’s your name.”

I shrugged at her reasoning. “Not really.”

“If you drop some goddamn news on me that your name isn’t Vic Wall and you’ve been undercover or some other goddamn spy shit I swear to god I will get a knife and cut you.” Lenny stared at me, eyes fixed. I laughed at her threat. I suppose I could attribute it to pregnancy hormones, but honestly, Lenny probably would have threatened me even if she weren’t pregnant.

“No.” I shook my head, turning back to the road. “Nothing like that.”

“Well.” She huffed. “You can’t blame a girl for thinking it.”

“I suppose I can’t.”

“Then why not?”

“I wasn’t born Vic Wall. I was born Ryuu Ono before being adopted by the Walls.”

“They changed your name? You were five, you already had a name. Is that even legal?”

I shrugged. “No use crying over spilled milk…or shitty parents. My birth mother wasn’t the greatest so I’m not about to erect a shrine to her or the name she gave me.”

It was one of the rare times we didn’t have music on in the car. Instead we listened to the low groan of the tires against the road and the spray of the ocean against the rocks. It made the silence louder, magnified our thoughts, but for the first time in years there wasn’t anything Lenny and I were hiding under screams.

“You don’t really talk about it,” Lenny said.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“I don’t know…” She tapped her fingers against the window, drawing my attention to them. “Everything?”

Shaking my head, I focused on the windy coastal road. “My birth mother was a meth addict. She died in a fire. I was adopted by the Walls.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Will you tell me the whole truth for once in your goddamn life?”

“When I was adopted by the Walls my new father said, ‘We might have to live with a goddamn chink because your cunt is broken, but don’t mean I have to call him that. He’s Vic. It’s a good, strong American name.’” I shrugged at the memory. Looking back, my dad was always kind of a dick. The drinking made him worse, though.

“What an ass,” she muttered.

“Yeah, so, now you know why I don’t have an attachment to the name Vic.”

Another few minutes passed before Lenny said quietly, “Well, I have an attachment to the name Vic.”

I reached across the car and hugged her hand.

S
tanding in the supermarket, looking for an obscure brand of chocolate that Lenny
absolutely
had to have that instant, I was transported back to the past. Lenny left me and I’d found her in a supermarket on Thanksgiving Day. I brought her home with me, but it had taken a colossal lie to get her back. I’d been so desperate not to lose her and back it wouldn’t have crossed my mind to tell the truth.

It was surreal to be here now, picking up chocolate and spicy sausage, because she was pregnant. With my child. Only months before she’d been threatening to get her tubes tied. As I pulled out the box of chocolate, I stared down at the cardboard, wondering if I actually had died.

But then I knew better.

Because no way would I have gone to heaven.

“Congrats on the pregnancy and upcoming nuptials, my friend.” I flinched when the hand fell on my back. I didn’t need to turn my head to know whom it belonged: Satan, or at least one of his disciples.

“We’re not engaged.” Glaring, I shucked Seven’s hand from my back.

“Wow, you knocked her up and aren’t getting married.” Seven laughed and leaned against the aisle of cookies. “And I thought
I
was coldhearted.”

“What the fuck do you want?”

“I have a business proposition for you; you handled your last one so well. Quite masterfully, I’d say. Some of us had a bet going on whether or not you’d pull it off.”

“I’m out of that life.”

“Really?” Turning from me, Seven started to peruse the cookies and candy for himself. “You don’t even want to know what my proposition is? It’s pretty lucrative. High reward, low risk.”

“Fuck that.”

“Well, then…” Seven grabbed a chocolate bar, shoving it into his jacket. “I guess this is the last time we’ll see one another. Enjoy love and babies and all that shit.” Like the fucking Boogieman he was eponymous for, he nearly vanished out the store door. In and out of my life in less than ten seconds, but almost ruining it in five. I couldn’t help what came out of my mouth next.

Because fuck Seven and everything he stands for.

I smirked and called after him, “I hope you fall in love, Seven. Not because I want you happy, but because I think it would be pretty fucking funny to see someone like you react to that. Like watching Mentos in a coke bottle.” His body was halfway out the doorway when he stopped. Hand on the frame, Seven cocked his head. Slick hair fell over his face when he looked back and I could see the smirk fall.

It almost looked like he was going to say something, but then he knocked on the wood, smiled, and kept going.

S
even had touched a nerve. A throbbing, exposed nerve. Years ago Lenny and I had talked about marriage and babies and shit and decided it wasn’t for us. It
couldn’t
be for us. She seemed happy with it, and I’d accepted it. As much as I might have wanted the picket fence, the only fences in my life were barbed and electric.

Still, about a year ago, I’d found the ring.

Not just any ring either—a fucking one of a kind, massive, extraordinarily hard to come by ring. According to the woman who gave it to me, it was legendary. I’m sure Lenny doesn’t care if her engagement ring is big, sparkly, or expensive, and at the time I wasn’t even sure if she would wear the fucking thing. Still I wanted a ring, and I wanted her finger to get heavy wearing the damn thing.