TROUBLE, A New Adult Romance Novel (The Rebel Series) (29 page)

He grins at me for a second and then goes back to looking out the window.

“You’re pure trouble, you know that?”

“Hell yeah, I know it.”
 
His expression goes cold.
 
Like a light switch -
off
.

“I was just kidding,” I say, feeling bad that I ruined the fun we were having.
 
It’s not fair that he can call me a pointy-nosed penguin and I can’t call him trouble.
 
Talk about double-standards.

A few minutes later he starts talking again, and right out the blue he floors me.
   
His tone is casual, but his words are anything but.
 
“You should give me one of those pictures you got.”

I forget to be annoyed at his sensitivity to name-calling.

“What pictures?
 
These pictures?” I look down at the ultrasound printouts.

“Yeah, those pictures.
 
What other pictures would I be talking about?”

Dread creeps into my chest.
 
I don’t know why, but suddenly I feel very worried and scared and … sad.
 
“Why?”

He shrugs, still very nonchalant.
 
“I don’t know.
 
Because I asked for one.”

My ears are burning.
 
I don’t know what to think or what to say, so of course I say the stupid thing, because that’s what I do best.
 
“Why did you ask for one, though?”

He shakes his head, his bottom jaw off kilter.
 
“Jesus, never mind.
 
If you don’t want me to have one just say so.”

“It’s not …”
 
I give up on trying to fix things.
 
I’m sure I’ll just muck it up anyway.
 
I don’t know why he wants a picture of my baby, and I don’t know why I hesitate to give him one.
 
Maybe because it feels like a really big deal.
 
Like a really,
really
big deal.

I’m not sure if he understands how much it means, and that’s important.
 
We can’t be thinking two different things about sharing baby pictures.
 
People give baby pictures to husbands and fathers and grandparents and lovers.
 
Colin is … Colin is …. none of those things.
 
He’s my employer.
 
He’s my friend.
 
He has an art studio above my bedroom.
 
He’s … never going to fall for a girl like me.
So why on earth would he want a picture of my baby?

We pull up to the house and I sigh, feeling very alone, even though I’m just two feet away from Colin.
 
I unbuckle my seatbelt and look over at him.
 
“Thanks for the ride.”

He doesn’t say anything.
 
He just stares out the front window, tapping his thumb on the steering wheel.

I take my purse and my pictures and leave the car, slowly walking up the front yard to the porch.
 
He peels out and is gone before I even reach the door.
 
Tears make my vision too blurry to find the lock with my key.

Rejection.
 
God, why does it have to be so darn painful.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

AFTER A NAP, ANOTHER SHOWER, a re-scheduling of my gallery appointment, and some Internet surfing, I’m ready for the dinner with Charity and her prospective baby-parents.
 
I’m nervous, so I can only imagine what shape she’s in.
 
When she pulls up to the front of the house and I get in the car, I get the impression she’s as bad or worse off than I am.

“Hi,” she says, sounding breathless. “Are you ready?
 
Are you sure you want to go? I’m not sure if
I
want to go, so I wondered if you were sure if you wanted to go.
 
You can say no if you want.
 
Or say yes.
 
Or we could reschedule.”
 
She grins and then frowns and then tries to smile again.

“Hi, Charity.”
 
I settle into my seat and bring the safety belt up and around my belly to connect it.
 
“Yes, I’m sure I want to go.” I click the belt in place and put my hand on her arm.
 
“Do me a favor and take a breath so you don’t explode your guts all over me.”

A big huff of air whooshes out of her lungs.
 
“Yeah.
 
Okay.
 
Breathe.” She nods a bunch of times, reminding me of a bobble head.

I jiggle her a little before dropping my hand to the seat.
 
“You already met Barbara.
 
Why are you so nervous?”

Charity shifts the car into drive and pulls away from the curb as she shakes her head.
 
“I have no idea.
 
Maybe because her husband could pull the plug on the whole thing. And the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of her being the mom.
 
She’s really nice and very organized.
 
She even has matching pillows on the couch.”

I stare out the front window, wondering if her attachment to Barbara this quick is a good idea.

“What?” she asks, her tone worried.
 
“I can tell you want to say something.”

“No, I was just thinking…” I shake my head and stare out the window.
 
I do not want to be the voice of reason right now.
 
I want Charity to be happy and excited.

“About…?”

What would a good friend do? Lie? Just let a girl go into an important relationship like this without doing the bare minimum?
 
No.
 
Probably not. “Well, maybe before you commit to anything, you should get a background check on both of them.”
 
I look over to see her reaction.

She blinks a few times.
 
“Oh.
 
I guess I never thought about that.
 
I mean … their house is nice.”
 
She grimaces and glances over at me.
 
“That’s probably not a good measuring stick, is it?”

“Well, it’s important, sure.
 
But you know, just to be positive, maybe we could have the police look to see if they have records.”

“Will it cost money? Because I don’t have any. I can barely pay for gas.”

I shrug.
 
“Probably will, but they should pay for it, not you.”

Charity nods.
 
“I knew there was a reason you and I met.” She looks over for a moment and smiles big.
 
“First you find parents for my baby and then you make sure they’re good ones.”

My heart squeezes in my chest.
 
“Don’t give me any credit for anything.
 
If things don’t go well, I don’t want to be blamed.”

“Well, that wasn’t very positive,” Charity says, going from happy to sad in an instant.

“I’m sorry.
 
I take it back.
 
I’m being a jerk right now.”

Charity waves her hand in the air, as if to brush away the bad vibes that are floating between us.
 
“No, Alissa, I’m sorry.
 
I’ve been going on and on about myself and have completely ignored your life. What’s going on?
 
Are you okay?”

I sigh heavily. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Is that the truuuuth?”

I chew my lip, wondering if I should say anything.
 
I should probably just let her live in her cloud without messing it all up with my negativity.
 
“Yes.”

“Liar!”
 
She slaps my leg gently.
 
“Tell me the truth.”

My smile refuses to stay away.
 
“Truth is, life is very complicated right now. Too complicated.”

“I hear ya.
 
What’s so complicated about
your
life, though?
 
I want to know. I really do.”

A sigh precedes my confession.
 
“Well, I’m just weeks away from giving birth and I don’t have any idea what I’m going to do after. I suppose I can get food stamps so she won’t starve, but I need to find a job.”

“Didn’t you mention having a job already?”

“Yes, but it’s working for Colin.”

“Oooo, Colin.
 
Lucky girl.
 
Aaaand
why
exactly is that a problem?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not.”
 
She giggles.
 
“Just tell me.”

“You know what the problem is!
 
He’s too cute!”
 
I can’t look at her.

She laughs more.
 
“Damn straight he’s cute. He’s actually full outta cute and into hot if you ask me.
 
You should go for that shi… stuff.”

I snort.
 
“Yeah, right.
 
I’m an elephant with cankles and completely limp hair. A penguin with an actual beak. I couldn’t possibly be less attractive than I am right now.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” she says, her tone hinting at more.

“About what?”

“About how sexy some guys think pregnant girls are."

“Not Colin.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, first of all, he only dates models.
 
And second, he says I walk like a penguin.”

“He
said
that?”

“Yes.
 
Twice.”

“Okay, that’s not good.
 
But that don’t mean he isn’t likin’ the curves.
 
That’s all I’m saying.”
 
She lowers her voice.
 
“And I heard that orgasms while you’re pregnant are better than regular ones.”

I laugh, but don’t respond. Instead, I think about her curves comment for a few minutes.
 
Houses whiz by my window as I consider whether he might be asking for a kiss because he does like curves.
 
Does that make him a prince among men or a pervert?

“What?” she asks.
 
“What are you thinking over there?”

“Nothing.
 
Just … nothing.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else bothering you?” she asks, slowing down in front of a nice, two-storey house.

“Yep.” I put on a cheery smile so we can focus on her life instead of mine.
 
“That’s it. And I’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”
 
I unbuckle my seatbelt.
 
“Come on.
 
Let’s go meet the parents.”

“Ha, ha.
 
Meet the parents.
 
Good one.”
 
Charity tries to laugh but it comes out sounding a little like a hyena.
 
“Oh, boy.
 
That’s not good,” she whispers.

I laugh.
 
“Don’t worry about it.
 
They’re not going to stop wanting your baby because you laugh like a … silly person.”

She frowns at me good naturedly. “Silly person?
 
You were going to say something else, like monkey or something.”

“Who me?
 
No way.”
 
I’m still grinning when the door opens and a teary-eyed Barbara is standing in the entrance.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

“WHAT’S WRONG?” CHARITY ASKS QUIETLY.

“Nothing, sweetie.
 
Come in, come in.”
 
She holds her hand out towards the foyer and we both step inside.
 
“You brought your friend.
 
Alissa, right?”

“Yes.
 
Is that a problem? I can leave.”
 
I point to the car that’s disappearing from view as Barbara shuts the door.

“No, no, don’t be silly.
 
Come in.”
 
She wipes at her eyes with a tissue.

Charity puts her hand on Barbara’s arm.
 
“Tell me what’s going on.
 
I don’t want to be blindsided.”

Barbara stops and faces us.
 
“My husband is just concerned about … the whole process.”

“That’s understandable.”
 
I’m afraid there’s more to her statement than she’s letting on, and I just pray it has nothing to do with the color of Charity’s skin.
 
Because people who have issues like that don’t deserve to have her baby in my opinion.

Charity takes my hand and I squeeze her fingers a couple times.
 
“Come on,” I say.
 
“Let’s go have dinner.”
 
I smile as brightly as I know how and lead the way into the living room.

There’s a man standing next to the fireplace.
 
I don’t know what I expected, but this isn’t it.
 
He’s huge.
 
He’s the size of two men.
 
And his skin is about two shades darker than Charity’s.

All the breath whooshes out of me in one big gust.
 
That’s one worry out of the way, at least.

I can feel Charity relaxing through her hand just before it slides out of mine.

“Charity,” Barbara gestures towards my friend, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Michael.
 
Michael, this is Charity, the young lady I told you about.”

He walks over and shakes her hand.
 
His fingers could probably go around it twice they’re so long. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Charity says.
 
She has to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

“And this is …?” he asks, turning towards me.

“I’m Alissa.
 
Hi.”
 
I hold out my hand and give him the firmest handshake I can, considering it’s like holding a baseball glove and not a person’s actual hand.
 
“I’m Charity’s friend.
 
Just here for moral support.”
 
I try to smile past my awkwardness.