Rock the City: A Midnight Fate Novel (25 page)

“It wouldn’t have been your fault if she left.”

I rest my head against the wood shelving, wishing that were true. All I want is to curl up in his arms and forget about life for a little while, but this is only the beginning of Lemon’s journey. Depending how far along she actually is, we have months ahead of us. Months for her to change her mind and hurt herself or the baby. “Time’s running out, Lane. She’s used to numbing her pain and avoiding her feelings. Her running is most likely an attempt to get some relief.”

I’d never forgive myself if I led her to hurt her baby. For all I know, she already could have, but I’d like to think we’re stepping up in time to save them both.

“We have an appointment in two hours. All you have to do is relax. I’ll make sure she gets there and follows through with whatever the doctor needs her to do.”

“What do you mean,
relax
? I’m going with you.”

He blinks a couple times like he wasn’t expecting me to actually want to go to the appointment. “You are?”

“We’re in this together, Lane. You said so yourself. I want to be there, even if she makes me stay in the waiting room and thinks I’m a bitch for yelling at her.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not mad at you.”

“I can handle it if she is. Believe it or not, I’ve been in a few fights before.”

Lane moves to his knees, crawling closer until his face is mere inches from mine. “You make tough really sexy, you know that?”

Smiling, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. “I tell you what I know, Lane. I know I love you, and some days I wonder how I ever managed life without you.”

He presses his lips to my forehead, sighing against my skin. I wait for him to say something that’ll make me swoon even more, but he says, “God, I wish I had time to fuck you properly right now.”

I laugh because, even though that wasn’t what I was
expecting
him to say, it was exactly what I
needed
him to say. “Maybe Easton’s free.”

Before I know what’s happening, I’m flat on my back with a very hungry Lane on top of me, his determined steel-blue eyes peering down at me. “Baby, it’s bad enough you once said his name with my face between your legs. Let’s not take it any farther.”

“I don’t want Easton, babe. You’re more than enough man for me.” I reach for handfuls of his pajama pants and pull him as close as I can get him. When I can feel his hardness against my thigh, I smile for totally different reasons. “You know what else I think?” I ask him playfully.

“What do you think, baby?”

“I think that, as much as it bugs you, you’re a little intrigued by the idea of a threesome.”

He rolls his eyes and silences me with his finger to my lips. “Just stop talking and kiss me already.”

Lane and Lemon are quiet on the walk to the doctor. Even though it’s only a couple blocks from the condo to Park Avenue, Lemon starts limping.

She stops walking completely about halfway there, reaching into her purse and pulling a tissue out. We wait as she shoves the folded paper between the back of her shoe and her heel. “Are you okay?” Lane asks her.

“It’s rubbing again. They don’t fit right.”

Lane glances at me but I shake my head, answering his unspoken question. The shoes aren’t mine. Not wanting her to be in pain for her appointment, I lean against the stone wall of the bank next to us and pull on my shoelaces. Kicking my sneakers off, I slide my feet into Lemon’s shoes.

“What is she doing?” Lemon asks me with wonder in her eyes.

“I think it’s called helping a friend,” Lane tells her, equally surprised by my gesture.

She whispers the word, “Friend,” like it’s completely foreign to her. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had one of those.”

She slides her feet in my shoes and Lane bends down in front of her to tie the laces for her. When he stands back up, Lemon’s smiling, and with her head held a little higher, she walks faster toward the doctor’s office.

Lane takes my hand and leads us the rest of way down the sidewalk. I stare up at him with a warmth so special, I’m pretty sure I’ve never loved him more.

“This is us,” he tells us when we come to the next set of shiny glass doors.

After taking a minute to glance at the directory, Lane leads us toward the elevators.

“I feel like I’m in a hotel,” Lemon whispers as we step inside.

I punch the button for the third floor before letting go of Lane’s hand and running my palms over every floor after ours until they’re all lit up.

“What are you doing?” he asks me with an amused laugh.

I shrug, realizing how childish I probably look. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

As soon as the doors open, we’re right in the middle of a busy practice. I walk with Lemon to the receptionist while Lane takes off and finds a seat in the back corner of the waiting room. At first, I think it’s because he doesn’t want to chance being recognized, but as I watch him, his eyes focus on the very pregnant bellies surrounding him, and then on the crying baby across from him.

Once Lemon’s finished filling out her papers, I lead her to the back of the room, away from some of the hustle and bustle.

“What’s wrong, babe?” I ask him as I sit down.

He says, “I’m good,” but his bouncing knee tells a different story.

I gently place my hand over his leg, trying to soothe his nerves, but it takes him a few seconds to get it under control. “I can’t believe this is really happening. A fuckin’ kid,” he whispers.

I lean closer so none of the other mothers hear him. “You probably shouldn’t say ‘fuck’ and ‘kid’ in the same sentence anymore.”

“Right,” he whispers back.

While I’m close, I let my hand drift up his thigh, closer and closer to his dick. He lets me get pretty close until he swats my hand away, his elbow knocking over the art on the table next to us, sending a few pamphlets to the floor, too.

He quickly bends to pick everything up, suddenly realizing he’s not holding your average bowl or statue. “Why is there a heart on the table?”

Lemon snickers, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Lane, I think it’s a uterus.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, it’s like he loses all control of his motor skills, letting it fall to the floor again with a thud. It rolls under my chair and after I bend to pick it up, I place it safely on the table.

“Who the hell decorates with body parts?” he asks us both.

Lemon points to the art in frames around us, each a slightly different depiction of pregnancy and childbirth. They’re tastefully done—some might even be considered beautiful—but they’re still not something I would choose to have hanging on my wall.

Desperate for his eyes to focus on something else, he takes the folded pamphlet and opens it up, studying the words like they’re song lyrics. Two seconds in and he chucks that back on the table, too. “I don’t even want to know why they’re shoving that up there.”

I glance at it and laugh even harder. “It’s a type of birth control that stays inside a woman. It’s not some medieval torture device.”

“I’d rather take my chances than have my dick bumping against that shit.”

The three of us manage to sit quietly for a few minutes, but I can feel the tension building the longer we sit in silence. It makes me start to itch. “If I stood on my chair and yelled ‘pussy,’ would it make you two relax a little bit?”

Lemon’s mouth drops open, and Lane laughs so unexpectedly he makes himself cough. “Baby, I think if you did that, we’d get kicked out of here so fast Lemon wouldn’t have a chance to see the doctor.”

“You’re right, what was I thinking?” I tease them, just as Lemon turns her body to face me.

“You’re like my hero or something,” she says, barely above a whisper before finding her voice. “You always seem to be thinking what I am, and doing what I wish I could.” She looks at her brother, waiting until he makes eye contact with her before she states, “Please, don’t screw it up with her.”

He smiles proudly, only saying, “Don’t plan on it, sis.”

“Men never really plan anything, Lemon. It just seems to happen.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” she agrees as she stares at her stomach, the smile now gone from her face. I wasn’t insinuating that about her baby, but I can see why she made the connection. That little one isn’t exactly something she planned on having any time soon.

“Are you okay?”

She bites her lip, her eyes tearing when she says, “I hate when people judge me. The doctor will think I’m a bad person as soon as she starts asking questions. Wait, it is a woman, right?”

“It is, and she won’t judge you, Lemon. This is Manhattan. I’m sure she’s seen it all and heard it all. But remember, no matter who you come in contact with during your appointment and all the ones that follow, you’re not a bad person. ”

Surprising me, she says, “Sometimes
I
think I’m a bad person.”

After hearing Lemon’s admission, Lane looks like he wants to bail on the appointment entirely, instead taking his sister back home where she’s less vulnerable. Though right now, Lemon needs more help than we can give her on our own, and thankfully, he understands that.

Before we can give her any kind of pep talk, the nurse calls her name. She glances at us, but we wait for her to make the call. We’ll come if she needs us, or we’ll stay right where we are if that makes it easier for her. All we want is for her to be honest with her doctor—and for her to do it for both her and her baby.

Finally, she says, “I can do this. Will you be here when I’m done?”

“We’ll be sitting right here waiting for you.”

With a tiny nod, she stands and walks toward the nurse. She may be taking each step in my shoes, but without even realizing, she’s finally starting to walk alone.

A little over an hour later, Lane and I are practically asleep in our chairs when the door separating the waiting room and the treatment rooms is flung open so hard it bounces off the wall with a loud bang. Not expecting Lemon to be the one responsible, she’s running by us so fast we’re too stunned to move.

Lane’s body finally unfreezes and he jumps over a row of chairs, desperate to stop his sister. Just as he leaves the office, the nurse and doctor come running into the waiting room.