Sweet on You (The Wilde Sisters #1) (17 page)

“Oh my God.” Thyme was impressed.

“Oh shit.” Sage was not.

“What? No.” Neither was Rayne. She stood up, pushing Thyme out of her way, and ran to her bedroom.

“You—” Sage kicked his shin “—are such an idiot.”

Thyme shook her head in pity. “I thought you were different. I’ll walk you out.”

The Walk of Shame. What the hell did he do wrong? This was exactly what Rayne wanted. Commitment. The Happily Ever After. He just offered it to her and she acted like he asked her to donate both arms.

The hell with women.

***

Rayne

The New Year’s Resolution Rush was exactly what Rayne needed to keep her mind off Trent’s ridiculous proposal. Rayne picked up the Swiffer in the corner of the studio and wiped down the floor. Too bad she couldn’t Swiffer away the pity proposal.

At least her other boyfriends had the decency to act like marrying her wasn’t a life sentence. The shaky voice and sweaty palms were clearly not due to the typical proposal jitters but were from the doom that Trent felt was clouding over him…for the rest of his life. He didn’t want to marry her, that was obvious. Just as obvious that he had no desire to be a father. Ever.

The last doctor’s appointment went well. She started gaining some weight after a slow start, and the baby was progressing nicely. If all went according to plan—which nothing in her personal life had ever—she’d have her baby in early May. Neil and Suzie said they’d try to be back in Maine around that time but wouldn’t make any promises. Story of her life. Empty promises versus no promises.

They didn’t sound the least bit shocked when she called them on Thanksgiving to tell them she was pregnant.

“You always wanted kids. I’m sure you’ll be a good mom.” That was the extent of Suzie’s excitement and motherly advice. Not even a Christmas card for their daughters or a baby gift for their soon-to-be grandchild.

A year ago Rayne would have thought she’d be an excellent mother as well, but her personality had changed drastically over the past few months and she started to doubt herself. Was it due to pregnancy hormones or her crappy personal life?

Done for the day, Rayne shut off the stereo system, closed the blinds, and made sure the thermostat was at sixty-five. These long days were starting to take a toll on her. She found she had more energy in the afternoon and passed her morning classes to the other girls. Even the nine a.m. gentle yoga class was too much for her tired body.

Shutting the lights off, she reached in her purse for her keys and noticed a new text message on her phone.

Trent: Next time tell me when you change your appointment -T

She didn’t mean to deceive him. Not completely. When Dr. Hallowell’s office called to move her appointment ahead two hours she readily agreed. If she happened to forget to tell Trent about the change, well, she could blame her raging hormones. Rayne figured he’d hightailed it out on the first flight he could find back to his cushy job in the land of sin.

The doctor visits were too personal, too intimate. She couldn’t handle Trent being there physically, knowing he couldn’t be there emotionally.

Ignoring the text, she zipped up her parka and headed out to her car. Her mind wandered aimlessly as she drove home. Limbs stretched, limber and exhausted, she hauled herself up her stairs, let herself into her apartment, and screamed when Sage and Thyme greeted her at the door.

“What the hell?”

“See, even her mouth has changed.” Sage took Rayne’s keys and purse and helped her with her coat. “Thyme, make some tea and bring some cheese and crackers in the living room when you’re done.”

“Why do I have to do it? How about I take Rayne and you—”

“Oh, for crying out loud. What are you two fighting about now?”

Thyme sneered at Sage and wrapped her arms around Rayne. “We’re here to help you, honey.”

“Your bickering isn’t helping. And what is it exactly that you think you can help with?”

Sage pulled a bag of Doritos out of a grocery bag and beckoned. “Come on. Let’s sit.”

Doritos. Something awful happened.

“Trent? Is he okay?”

“See? Her first thought is about him. I told you.”

Sage rolled her eyes. “Thyme, this isn’t about you.”

“Sage? What’s going on?”

They sat on the couch, Rayne wedged between her sisters, the newly opened bag of Doritos in her lap. She didn’t know what needed soothing, so the smell of processed cheese and spices didn’t do anything for her. Yet.

“We’re worried about you. You’ve got to cut this out.” Sage held Rayne’s hands as Thyme played with Rayne’s ponytail.

An Intervention. They’d done the same for Thyme countless times when she’d gotten herself into trouble. Sage always the bad cop, and Rayne the good.

“Cut what out?”

“Honey, we know you care about Trent. He’s a good guy.” Thyme, like Rayne, tended to be blinded by good looks and charm. “His proposal may not have been uber romantic but he’s trying. I think you should give him another chance.”

“Hey, that’s not what we agreed on.” Sage swatted Thyme’s hand from Rayne’s hair. “Raynie.” Sage turned Rayne’s face toward hers. “You’ve changed. You’re moody, you swear, you yell at Thyme and me when we fight instead of trying to solve our problems and make us kiss and make up. Girl, you’ve got to snap out of this funk. He’s not worth it.”

“Yes, he is!” Thyme turned Rayne’s face. “He may not realize it yet, but he loves you. And you love him. You two are having a baby and he wants to marry you.”

“No, he thinks he should marry me. It’s out of obligation only. And there’s no way in hell I’m moving to California.”

“You’re letting him ruin your life instead of moving on with it. Do you want your baby to grow up seeing his mama mopey and pissy all the time? Besides, baker boy lives three thousand miles away. What kind of dad can he be from across the country?”

“Sage, don’t be cruel. Ray-Ray.” Thyme kneeled on the floor at Rayne’s feet. “Follow your heart. Your head is telling you wrong things. Just like your older sister. She doesn’t have a heart to listen to it, but you do. Trent’s not perfect. No man is. That’s your problem. You’re looking for Mr. Perfect and he doesn’t exist. Trent is good. And kind. And hot.”

“Hey, this Intervention isn’t about getting her back with Trent, it’s about getting our Rayne back. I miss her.”

Rayne felt like she was starring in a ping-pong match, her head ready to explode. “I need to pee.” Trying to locate her ab muscles, she pushed twice before she lifted her butt off the couch. In another month she’d need a forklift.

“I appreciate what you guys are doing. And saying. I’m fine. Really.”

“You’re a mess, honey. Mom and Dad screwed us up and it sounds like Trent’s parents did the same thing to him. You can’t let that get in the way of your happiness. Take a chance.”

Sage snorted. “She’s taken so many chances at love in the past and look where it got her.”

“Hey!” Rayne said. “I resent that. ‘Tis better to have loved and lost…and all that.”

“You really believe that?” Sage asked, a surprising gentleness in her voice.

“Yeah. I do. When Trent and I were happy we were…everything was so right. I want that back.”

Her sisters surrounded her, wrapping their arms around Rayne. “We want that for you two, don’t we, Sage?”

“Yeah, yeah. If that’s what you wish. Keep the mushy stuff away from me, but you were destined for it, Raynie.”

Her heart, dead, empty, and hurting just minutes ago, suddenly felt alive again.

And she really had to pee.

Chapter Fifteen

Trent

The punching bag looked like cottage cheese by the time Trent was done with it. He beat the stuffing out of one of the seams and kept hammering away until the bag fell from the hook. Using his teeth, he tore the tape off from his fists and tossed the soiled lot in the garbage.

“Rough day?”

“No more than usual.” Trent grabbed a towel from his bag and wiped the sweat from his face. He pulled out a bottle of water and tossed it to Brian.

“Thanks. But I don’t think I need it as much as you. My bag is still hanging.” He laughed while he unscrewed the cap, took a sip, and threw it back at Trent. “Pun intended.”

“Ass.”

“Want to go out for a beer?”

“Not much in the mood for a bar scene. I’ll drink yours if you’ve got any in the fridge.”

Brian hesitated. “Uh, I think I’m empty. We can go to your place.”

The averted eyes and nervous tapping of his foot were Brian’s tells, which made him the worst poker player on the planet. “Spill.” With the market in the shitter, Trent hadn’t been able to get out of the lease on his condo. Maybe it was a sign of some sort. With his new salary, he could afford keeping it and his efficiency apartment he rented in Burbank.

“Uh, uh.”

“Bri,” Trent warned.

“Dude. She’d kill me if—”

“What? Is it Rayne? Is she okay?” Trent grabbed Brian’s drenched shirt and pulled him close.

“Dude, lay off. Rayne is fine. She, uh, went baby shopping with Claire today.”

“And?”

“And they’re going back to the house so Claire can give Rayne some hand-me-downs.”

Trent picked up his gym bag and jogged to the locker room, Brian following at his heels. “Man, come on. Don’t go over there like this. You’ll scare the poor woman away. She’s finally happy again, getting back to herself—” Brian stopped, realizing what he just revealed.

Trent turned on his heel and pushed Brian up against the lockers. “What the hell, man. You’ve seen her and haven’t told me? Is this some conspiracy to keep me in the dark? You picking sides?”

“Chill, man. And…let me…go. Can’t…breathe.”

Dropping his forearm from Brian’s neck, Trent jumped back. “Sorry.” Brian leaned over, gasping for air, his purple face returning to its normal color. “Bri.”

Brian held up a hand. “Don’t.”

They stood in awkward silence, both breathing heavily. Trent unclenched his fists and swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. “That was uncalled for.”

“Dude.”

“No, don’t
Dude
me or pass this off as no big deal. I flipped. I’m sorry. None of this is your fault.” He scrubbed his hands across his face and over his scalp, the hair on his head only a little longer than the scruff on his face. He had buzzed his hair before his blundering proposal to Rayne but it had already grown back.

“It’s all right. If the roles were reversed, I know I’d do anything to get Claire back.”

Too bad he wasn’t anything like Brian. Raised in a decent family with loving parents and brothers, Brian had the life Trent had envied as a kid. Trent had never wanted to be settled down with a wife and kids like Tim the Toolman Taylor in
Home Improvement
episodes he used to watch back in elementary school. He pictured himself a Jerry Seinfeld, single until the end and very happy and successful. Although the real Seinfeld did marry. No, he pictured himself more like the show. His friends around him falling in and out of relationship crisis after crisis while he went on his merry way. Enjoying the company of a beautiful woman when the whim hit.

But Brian wasn’t George or Kramer; his sister or Rayne didn’t mirror Elaine in any way. So where did Trent fit in? Where would his life lead? One thing was for sure, he couldn’t deal with the silence between him and Rayne. If she wouldn’t marry him, at least they could be friends and raise their child in some sort of happy semblance.

“I promise not to screw anything up. I need to see her. To apologize.”

“Do I dare ask what for this time?”

“Claire didn’t tell you?”

Wow. The irony struck hard. Here he was, nearly choking his best friend to death because he thought he was withholding information, but it was Trent keeping Brian in the dark.

“I sort of proposed a few weeks ago.”

“You what?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“She said no.”

Instead of laughing as Trent predicted, Brian reached out and squeezed Trent’s shoulder. “Sorry, man. That had to…” He clicked his tongue and sighed.

“I don’t know what I keep doing wrong. I brought her out to lunch after Claire set me up. I apologized and said I’d take responsibility, but she walked out on me. Then I thought it was marriage she wanted but she turned that down too.”

“What is it that you want?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

Trent shrugged. “Damned if I know.”

“Well, then. Maybe that’s the problem.”

After showering and throwing on his jeans and Bruins sweatshirt, Trent waited for Brian and followed him home. He sat in the driveway for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say. What it was that Rayne wanted?
What is it that I want?
Maybe that was the problem. Trent didn’t know. He didn’t have hopes and dreams like she did. A good paying job, a decent place to live, freedom. Those were important to him. He never thought much further than that.

Brian tapped on his window. “She’s here,” he stated the obvious, pointing to Rayne’s car.

Blowing into his hands to warm them up, he walked in Brian’s wake up the steps to the front door.

“Honey, I’m home,” Brian shouted unnecessarily.

“Shh. You’ll wake the baby. She’s been up all day, playing with—oh, hey, big brother.” Claire kissed Brian on the lips and Trent on the cheek, then turned back to her husband. “Explain.”

“Claire,” Trent interjected before Brian got in any more trouble. “I invited myself over for a beer and then he—” Rayne stepped around the corner, her arms filled with green and yellow baby blankets. “Hey, Rayne.”

Claire abandoned the men and turned to Rayne. “I swear I didn’t set you up. Trent invited himself over and…”

“That’s okay. He belongs here more than I do.”

“No,” all three said at the same time. Brian cut the tension with a laugh. “You see where our loyalties lie.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to pick sides.”

“Rayne, they don’t have to pick sides. They can be friends with you regardless of how you feel about me. This whole mess is my fault.” He reached over and relieved her of the load of blankets. “There’s no reason why the four of us can’t hang out like a normal set of…friends.”

Surprisingly, Rayne nodded. “You’re right. We need to be civil around each other. For the baby’s sake.”

Yeah, for the baby’s sake. But what about his sake? He needed her too. Part of him was envious of the protective nature she had with the baby that wasn’t even born yet.

“Brian, can you help me bring up some things from the basement?” Taking the hint, he dutifully followed Claire.

Trent pulled the blankets closer to him, breathing in the familiar scent of Faith. “I remember when all she did was sleep in these blankets. Now the little squirt is crawling around, getting into all sorts of mischief.” Like their child would someday.

Rayne smiled and touched the edge of the Winnie the Pooh blanket. “It’s hard to believe I’ll have a little one soon.”

Very hard to believe.

“I should be going. I’ve eaten up enough of Claire’s day off.”

“And I’m sure she loved every minute of it.” They faced each other in awkward silence using the bundle of blankets as a barrier. “I’ll carry these out to the car for you.”

“Thanks. We already brought a few other bags out.”

Once he had the blankets loaded, he shut the back door and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Listen. Could we go to lunch after your appointment next week?” After much begging, she’d finally sent him a list of her next few appointments and he hoped to make as many as possible.

“Aren’t you going back to California?”

Hell, he hadn’t thought about his job once in the past two weeks. “We start shooting in two weeks. I’ll be around until then.”

“Oh.”

“So, your appointment? Lunch? Unless you had to change the time…” He cringed, not meaning to bring that up.

“It’s still at eleven-thirty. Lunch would be nice. I’ll see you then.” She got in her car and drove away before he could put his foot in his mouth any further.

***

Rayne

Over the next few months, Rayne’s belly grew and Trent called her every night, asking about her weight, the baby’s growth, how often she got up in the night to pee. It was embarrassing, but sweet. Trent had googled pregnancy and birth and asked where Rayne fell into the statistics.

On the days she had appointments, he called her twice. Once before the appointment and again at night before she went to bed. He made her take selfies every Sunday and send them to him so he could see her belly. Again, sweet and embarrassing. They didn’t talk about feelings or the future, only the present day.

Trent didn’t say too much about his job. He complained about the amount of makeup and hair products they used on him and said things were going well. His pilot would air sometime in April and then he would travel the states, sampling different bakeries from Alaska to New Orleans.

They laughed often and played online games against each other, making ridiculous bets. After three months of a grueling shooting schedule, Trent flew back to Maine to be with Rayne during her final weeks of pregnancy.

She didn’t trust herself to be alone with Trent but agreed to see him in the company of other people unless they were dining after a routine check-up.

The wait at the steakhouse was nearly an hour so Rayne pulled out the baby name book she carried around with her religiously.

“How about Margaret?”

“Only if she comes out eighty.”

“Stop it.” Rayne laughed. “It’s old-fashioned but adorable. We could call her Maggie.” It was only recently that Rayne changed her pronoun to
we
instead of
I
. If Trent noticed the change, he didn’t comment.

“How about you pick the name if it’s a girl and I pick if it’s a boy?”

“That’s sexist.”

“Fine. We’ll do it the other way. I kind of like Bertha. Sounds tough. No one would mess with a girl named Bertha.”

Rayne feigned a shocked face, knowing Trent would never name his girl so rashly. “Well then, I’m rather partial to Oscar.”

“The grouch?”

“Like his father.”

“I’m not grouchy.”

“No?”

“Only if you name my kid Oscar.”

“How about Eugene?”

“Yeah, he’ll never get beat up on the playground with that name.”

“Okay, seriously. What do you like for names? Did you think about it when your sister was pregnant?”

“Me? I never realized parents named their babies until Claire popped her kid out and told me the baby’s name. I sort of thought there was a note attached to them when the storks delivered the bundles to the front doors.”

“Kipson. Party of two,” the hostess called out.

Trent stood first and offered his hand. When he wasn’t around, Rayne found herself wishing for that forklift. He placed his hand on the small of her back—that had gotten much larger—and escorted her through the dining room. Women turned their heads when Trent was around. He still had a GQ body while she looked like she’d swallowed a beach ball.

It simply wasn’t fair. Why did the guy get to look more and more sexy and charming and so damn hot during the nine months while the woman had weight gain, water retention, stretch marks, and a leaky bladder to contend with?

“Your waitress will be right with you,” the young, skinny hostess said to Trent.

“You okay, Rayne? You look like—”

“I swallowed a watermelon? No, a pumpkin. One of those giant-ass ones businesses spend hundreds of dollars on, carve out, and win all sorts of prizes for. Why don’t you just paint a face on my stomach and call it a day?”

Trent looked around the restaurant and back at her again. “Did I miss something here?”

“What? You didn’t see all the women gawking at you, wondering what the heck you were doing with someone like me?” All her insecurities from high school came rushing back again. She’d never lose the weight. Granted she’d only gained thirty-five pounds, but she still had ten days until her due date. And she’d never look the same again.