SEAL's Baby (Navy SEAL Secret Baby Romance) (2 page)

  
And I didn’t want to be either anymore.

Chapter Two

Elizabeth

  
When I was a kid, I loved the idea of being surrounded by books. I
always thought that if I were lucky enough to grow up one day, I’d want to do
something that involved books and stories describing one exciting adventure
after another.

  
The irony of life, however, is that even when things work out the
way you wanted, they’re never really the way you imagined them to be. I looked
around the library that I had spent the better part of a month cataloguing and
wondered when that particular childhood dream had lost its charm. Probably
around the time I started to realize that my life would never be like the
stories I read about. I was doomed to live a life of quiet boredom nestled in
the bosom of a small town filled with people I had known my whole life. The
only people who were remotely exciting had left a long time ago.

  
People always assumed that the person you were depended on the
kind of life you led, but I had always wondered if perhaps it was the opposite.
Perhaps the kind of life you led depended on the kind of person you were. Maybe
some people were just marked for monotony. Maybe some people were just fated to
live un-extraordinary lives and I was terrified I was one of those people.

  
I had to set aside my brooding thoughts as a line of kids walked
into the library, shuffling their feet and poking each other in the back as they
were herded in by their teacher. I smiled at Jenna as she led the kids in and had
them sit down at the circular tables settled at the front of the library.

“You may each choose a
book and then I want you all to sit down and read it in silence.”

A groan went up among the
students and I had to suppress a smile as I moved forward to stand beside
Jenna.

“Why can’t Ms. Miller
read to us?” Johnny asked loudly. He was one of the more outspoken kids and he
loved challenging authority. “She always picks good books.”

Jenna turned to me with a
worn look in her eye. “That’s a good idea,” she said. “But Ms. Miller has a lot
of work to do.”

  
Another collective groan went through the students and that was
all the persuasion I needed. “You know what? I need a break,” I said quickly. “And
I love reading on my breaks.”

  
Immediately bright smiles replaced the sour expressions and I felt
a little beat of satisfaction knowing that I was wanted in some capacity, no
matter how inconsequential. I moved to the back of my desk where I kept a
supply of books that could win over any elementary kids and picked one out. I
sat myself between the two tables so that everyone could see me and I started
reading.

  
There was something about kids that had always made me nervous. It
had everything to do with the fact that they missed very little. They were
keenly observant and extremely honest and that made for some uncomfortable
situations. The story I chose to read to them involved a young girl who finds a
magical world hidden in the midst of her backyard, and when she grows up, she
takes her young daughter there with her. The moment I finished the story, the
kids pelted me with a number of different questions.

“One by one, children,”
Jenna said sternly. “And hands up please.”

Everyone’s hands shot up
into the air. “Go ahead, Curt,” I said to the curly haired boy on my left.

“Why did she take her
daughter back to the magical world?”

  
“She wanted to share it with her,” I explained patiently. “Because
she loved it so much when she was that age. You always want your children to
have the good things that you had when you were young.”

“Ms. Miller?” this time
it was Johnny who spoke up.

“Yes, Johnny?”

“Do you have children?”

I froze at the question
and tried to cover the embarrassment on my face. “No, Johnny, I don’t have any
children.”

“Why not?” another child
asked boldly.

“It’s just not the right
time for me,” I replied. “Maybe one day I will have a child.”

  
“All right, we need to get back to class,” Jenna said, standing up
and ending the questions that the children were firing at me. “Line up,” Jenna
continued. “Single file, and no talking please.”

I breathed an internal
sigh of relief just as Jenna moved a little closer to me. “Sorry about that Elizabeth.
Kids, you know.”

“I do know,” I smiled
trying to sound unconcerned.

“Don’t let that get you
down,” Jenna went on unnecessarily. “You’re so young; there’s time enough for
the husband, the kids, and the white picket fence.”

  
I smiled, but I had to work at it. I hated the way she looked at
me; the pity was evident in her eyes and I felt its weight heavy on my
shoulders. “Don’t worry about me, Jenna,” I said. “I’m happy being single.”
Even as I said the words, they sounded forced and insincere.

“Of course you are,”
Jenna nodded and I wanted to scream.

  
She left me to my lonely library and I spent the rest of the day trying
to figure out how I had ended up there. I drove home in a fog of thought,
remembering the vision board I had built in junior high school and every dream that
I had included in it. I had wanted to backpack through Europe, see the Seven
Wonders of the World, scuba dive in Australia, and climb Mount Kilimanjaro. I
had wanted to build a tree house in my back yard and plant an olive tree next
to it.

  
The sad part was that I still wanted to do all those things, but I
no longer held the same belief that any of those things were achievable. I was
not made for big adventures, I was not made for climbing mountains or
travelling the world. Perhaps I wasn’t even made to be a wife or a mother. I
had attempted the latter dream, and even that had ended in disaster.

  
I went home only so I could change and head over to Finley’s. I
turned in my white, high-collared blouse and navy blue skirt for jeans and a
black tank top. I ran a brush through my hair purely out of habit and stared at
myself in the mirror. I looked so different even to myself that it was scary.
When had I stopped recognizing the girl in the mirror? She looked tired and
bored and it didn’t do her any favors.

  
I turned away from my reflection and drove down to the bar. Joni
was already there waiting tables, and Zach was standing behind the bar. “Hi,” I
said as I slipped behind the bar next to him.

He looked at me with
raised eyebrows. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I work here,” I reminded
him.

“Not for another couple
of hours,” Zach replied. “You’re working the night shift remember?”

“I know that,” I said and
left it at that.

I could feel his eyes on
me. “What?” I demanded turning around and trying to sound casual.

“This is the fourth time
in so many weeks that you’ve come early to work,” Zach told me. “You’re making
the rest of us look bad kid.”

  
I smiled. Zach and I had become friends when I first started
working at Finley’s a year ago. It had been just after my divorce and I had
been in need of some new people and some new experiences. He was funny and
honest and that made it easier for me to get my mind off things.

“Sorry,” I shrugged. “But
I figured I’d just come down here and help out.”

Zach fixed his dark eyes
on me. “You thought you’d come here and help out?” he repeated. “Again?”

“Well … yeah.”

  
He came a little closer and leaned in. “This is a little piece of
advice from me to you: never,
never
help out when you’re not being paid to help out.”

I rolled my eyes. “What
do you need help with?” I asked.

  
“Seriously, Elizabeth,” Zach said with some frustration. “You
realize this is not a hospital or a homeless shelter right? Our boss is a
greedy, heartless bastard with a fat ass and an ugly moustache; why help him out?”

I raised my eyebrows
playfully. “What does his ugly moustache have to do with anything?"

“It’s hideous,” Zach
replies. “And that offends me.”

I laughed, shaking my
head. “In any case, I don’t see it as helping him out. I see it as helping my
friends out.”

Zach snorted. “Friends?”

“Joni and Heather are my …
well, ok, I’m friendly with them at least.”

“And that makes all the
difference,” Zach said sarcastically.

“Why are gay men so
sarcastic?” I huffed.

“It’s a natural talent,”
Zach replied with a wink.

“Whatever,” I said, and
sighed internally. “I think I’m getting too old for words like that.”

  
“That’s your problem,” Zach said handing me a stack of glasses to
wipe down. “You set all these time limits for yourself and all it does it
create unnecessary pressure. So what if you’re twenty-nine and stuck in the town
you were born in? So what if you’re twenty-nine and single? So what if you’re
twenty-nine and still using ‘whatever?’”

“First of all, I’m
twenty-eight,” I corrected. “And second of all, those things
do
matter.”

“Why?”

“Because … because I was
meant to do something with my life. I was meant to be
someone
.”

  
“You’re someone regardless,” Zach said firmly. “Forget about all
those goals you set for yourself when you were fourteen and you thought you could
conquer the world. Those goals were probably unrealistic anyhow. You just need
to live your life."

“That’s what I tried to
do,” I insisted. “It didn’t work out so well for me.”

“Ok, so you had a bad
experience,” Zach acknowledged. “You picked the wrong guy; all you need to do
is try again.”

“I’m not sure I even want
to get married again,” I said.

“That’s beside the
point,” Zach went on. “In order to figure that out, you need to get out there
and start dating.”

I sighed. “It’s only been
a year.”

  
Zach gave me a reproachful look. “You’re not a widow, Elizabeth.
You divorced your asshole of a husband, and when that happens, there’s no
mourning period. You get out there and get back in the game.”

“I needed some recovery
time,” I pointed out. “I needed to learn to trust again.”

“Fair enough,” Zach
nodded. “I think one year is plenty.”

I turned from him.
“Easier said than done.”

  
“You realize that every other guy that comes into this bar gives
you the once over, right?” Zach said. “I’m gay and even I know that you’re hot as
hell. With that red hair and those blue eyes, you’re like a Disney princess,
except with curves.”

I laughed. “Thanks; at
least that’s one childhood goal I’ve achieved.”

Zach looked at her
curiously. “I can’t tell: sincerity or sarcasm?”

“Sarcasm,” I replied. “I
was a tomboy as a child.”

“You know I’m right,”
Zach said with confidence.

  
“I know,” I agreed. “The thing is, there’s only so much I can do
in this town. Maybe you’re right and the guys who come in here check me out,
but the thing is, I’ve known them all in some capacity my whole life. Sometimes
I feel like this town is so small, there’s no room in it for big dreams.”

“Then you need to think
about whether this town is right for you.”

“I do,” I admitted.
“Every day. It’s just that sometimes you get stuck.”

“Sometimes you get
stuck?” Zach asked. “Or sometimes you get scared?”

  
I had no answer for him.

Chapter Three

Dylan

  
“Yeah!” Vic practically yelled as he downed another mug of beer.