Baller's Baby - A Bad Boy Romance (9 page)

Chapter
Eighteen

Skila

“Sky . .
. baby, I have to tell you something, and I know it's going to be hard to hear,
but hear me out, ok?” Kiptyn says, kissing along my jaw.

I don't
like the way that sounds. My heart rate increases, worrying at what he’s going
to say. “I kept something from you. I know it wasn't right. I meant to tell
you, but then one thing led to another, and then . . .” he trails off.

I think
we both know what happened. I sit up in the bed, wrapping the sheet around my
chest. For some reason, sitting here completely naked feels wrong. I need to
hide myself, shield some part of me from whatever truth he thinks he needs to
tell me.

“Ok.
What is it?” I ask. There’s no point it drawing it out any longer. Let's get it
out there and move on. One thought keeps circling in my head.
Please don't say there is someone else.
Please.
I know, it sounds so petty and trivial, but I can't imagine him
touching and holding another person the way he just did me. Everything about it
felt right.

It was
perfect.

“I um .
. . I listened to your voicemail on your phone. Lisa had called, and I answered
to let her know I had it, and then when I set it up on the counter, I must have
pressed the button on accident . . .” he trails off again, hanging his head in
shame.

I know I
should be upset. A normal person would probably be flipping out, screaming and
shouting about violations of privacy and all that, but I don't really care. I
can deal with this. The crushing weight on my chest lifts, and I smile at him,
relieved.

“It’s
ok. It was an accident, Kip. Don't worry about it,” I say, but he isn't
finished yet.

I think
back. There's nothing in my phone that I need to hide, so what did he see or
think he saw that has him so worried? I don't understand.

“The
doctor had called,” he says, reminding me of the voicemail I ignored when he
knocked on the door.

Shit.
What is it?

“And . .
. is everything ok? Did they say something bad? Am I ok? What is it, Kiptyn?
Tell me.”

I'm
frantic now. I jump from the bed, pulling the sheet with me, and run to the
kitchen. Snatching my purse off the counter, I dump its contents, searching for
my cell. Kiptyn stands behind me, pulling my arms back, forcing me to turn and
look at him. He’s pulled his pants back on and slipped his shirt over his head.
It’s inside out, but I don’t think he cares right now.

“You’re
fine, baby. It wasn't bad news,” he says, and I can tell he feels bad for
making me think it was something else.

I lean
my head against his chest, listening to the gentle beat of his heart before
angling my head up and asking, “Then what? What are you not telling me, Kip?”

He
releases an anguished sigh. “You're pregnant.” I hear the words. They echo over
and over in my head.

Pregnant.

A baby.

I can't
be. I need to have sex to get pregnant, and I haven’t. Not once. Not since . .
. Camryn. Oh my God.
No, no, no.
I
think back to the last few months—the sickness, my wild emotions, my pickiness.
Even Lisa had commented on it.

I.

Am.

Pregnant.

The room
tilts, and shades come down, down, down over my eyes as I fall to the ground
unconscious.

Chapter
Nineteen

Kiptyn

Son of a
bitch, she fainted. I didn't expect that. I don’t know what to do. I gently lay
her against the carpet and grab her cell from the counter. I’ve never dealt
with a pregnant girl before. Is fainting normal? I have no fucking clue.
Hitting the
call
button, I dial
Lisa’s number. She answers on the first ring.

 
“You can thank me later, babe,” she laughs
into the phone.

I need
to remember to actually thank her when this is all said and done. If it hadn't
been for her, then I doubt I'd be standing here now. She’d answered early this
morning when I called to ask what kind of coffee Skila liked, and then she’d vacated
the premises when I showed up so that I could work my magic. Of course, it had
cost me a hundred bucks, but I wasn't complaining. I’d gladly pay ten times as
much for just one minute with her.

“Lisa,
it’s Kip. Skila fainted, and I don’t know what to do. Should I call an ambulance?
Fuck.”

“Skila
what? I’m almost there. Just wait.” She hangs up the phone, and not even a
minute later, I hear her shutting the front door.

“Over
here,” I call out to her. She rounds the corner and takes in the scene.

“What
the hell happened?” she asks, bending down next to Skila and calling out her
name.

“I don’t
know. I mean, we were talking, and then all of a sudden, she hit the ground.”

“What
the hell did you say to her? I swear to God, I don't care who the fuck you are
or how much money you have, if you break her heart, I'll make you pay.”

“It
wasn't like that. I . . .” I stumble over the words, not wanting to tell her
how I fucked up. “She’s pregnant.”

Her gaze
snaps to mine, and I watch as the words replay in her mind. “Pregnant?” For a
second, I worry she’s going to faint too, but then she stands and walks to the
kitchen. Grabbing a cloth from the drawer by the stove, she wets it and brings
it back over, running it against Skila's forehead.

“That
explains a lot,” she says, and I wonder what she’s referring to, but I don't
ask because Skila is coming around.

She
looks up at me, surprised. “Are you okay?” I ask her, not knowing what else to
say.

“Yeah,
what happened?” she asks, and then she immediately remembers. I can tell. Her
head snaps up. Her eyes question me. I nod my head.

“Pregnant?”
she asks out loud, hoping that I misunderstood.

“Yes,
baby. You’re going to be a mommy.” Tears fill her eyes, and I feel like shit. I
should have known. She doesn't want this. She doesn't want a kid.

Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. How the hell am I going to convince her to keep something she
doesn't want? Should I? I don’t know what to do anymore. It seems every
decision I make is the wrong one.

She
tries to sit up, so I help her, pulling her to her feet. Lisa wraps her arms
around her—consoling her, congratulating her, I have no fucking clue. Skila
reaches for her phone, and I hand it to her. I watch as she puts it to her ear
and plays the message for herself. Tears stream down her beautiful face, and my
heart cracks open.

I can’t
stand here and see this. I can’t watch her heart break because she’s pregnant
with my nephew, the one and only thing left in this world that carries a part
of my brother in him or her. I turn, and for the first time since meeting her,
I walk away.

I don’t
make it far before Lisa comes barreling out the door. She looks like a momma
cat protecting her young the way she charges me. Her hand snakes out, slapping
me across the side of the head.

“What
the fuck is your problem?” she yells. Someone down the hall pops their head out
the door and watches for a minute before losing interest and going back inside.

“MY
PROBLEM?” I scream back at her. I can't believe this shit.

“Yeah,
asshole, your problem. I thought you cared about her. I thought you wanted to
be with her. What’s wrong? Find out she's knocked up and decide it ain't worth
your time?” I swear, if she had been a man in that moment, I would have knocked
the shit out of her.

“No one—and
I mean no one—talks about her that way. I don't give a fuck if you are her best
friend. She deserves better than that,” I yell into her face.

Temporarily
stunned, she doesn't reply right away. “Then what the hell are you doing
running away?” she asks.

My face
is red. I can feel the blood rushing to the surface. “You saw her. She's upset.
She's fucking crying. She doesn't want the baby,” I reply.

“Are you
kidding me?” she asks, her voice a mixture of shock and incredulity, and for
the first time, I wonder if maybe I was wrong.

Maybe I
misinterpreted the way Skila was acting, but I saw her reaction. I saw her
tears, and for fuck’s sake, she fainted, fucking flat out fainted when I told
her. I'm not wrong. I can't be. Lisa isn’t done laying into me yet. I'd like to
just walk away, but call me a sucker, because I want to hear what she has to
say.

“Men are
truly some of the most stupid, pigheaded bastards in the world,” she mumbles to
herself, running her hands through her hair and walking in circles, pacing back
and forth.

“She was
CRYING
because her emotions are
running wild. How can you even think Skila wouldn't want the baby? Do you know
her at all? All she's ever wanted is to be a mother, but the doctors told her
she wouldn't ever be able to carry one. She had a bad accident horseback riding
several years ago, and the surgery destroyed her insides. Of course she wants
the baby.”

Every
word she says hits me harder than the last. How many times am I going to fuck
up before I learn my lesson, before I stop and think shit through instead of
just acting out?

“Fuck.”
I have nothing else to say. That one word completely covers it all. I feel like
a complete ass. I wish I could rewind time fifteen minutes and do it all over
again.

“Yeah,
fuck. Now take your sorry ass back in there and try not to fuck up this time.”

Go back? I can’t go back. Can I?
Will she even talk to me? I mean—I
don't question it anymore, not that I can with her best friend standing here
with her hands on her hips. She looks like a pit bull, ready to attack. I walk
back into the apartment.

Skila is
sitting on the kitchen counter with one hand over her belly, the other still
holding onto the phone. She looks lost and afraid, yet the touch on her stomach
is light and reverent. She holds her hand against her, almost like she’s afraid
to move it, that if she did, the baby would disappear. Walking up to her, I
wrap my arms around her and kiss her.

Slowly,
she comes back to life in my arms and responds to my touch. I kiss her again
and again, apologizing for every mistake I've made and every mistake I’m sure
I’ll make in the future. I don't touch her anywhere but her mouth. I don't try
to pull her sheet off or run my hands down her body. I just kiss her. Five
minutes, twenty, two, I don't know how much time passes before she pulls back
and lays her head against my chest.

“I’m
going to be a Mommy,” she whispers into my shirt.

“I know,
Sky. I know, and I have no doubt you will be fucking amazing, and I hope . . .
if you’ll have me, that I’ll get to be a daddy. I know you haven’t known me
long at all, and from what I know of you and Camryn, you have no reason to
trust any of us Price fools, but I want to do right by you and the baby. I
can’t explain why. Even before I knew you were pregnant, I was drawn to you.
You’re different, baby. You make me want to be a better person than the mess of
a man I have been these last few months—hell, these last few years. I’ve never
felt this way before. I don’t know what it is or what to do with it right now,
but I want to spend my days by your side trying to figure it out.” She tenses
in my arms and lifts her head, searching my eyes for the truth. I gaze back at
her and rub my hand against her small baby bump.

“Will
you, Sky? Will you let me be this little bugger’s daddy?” I ask her. She nods
her head, and the smile that crosses her face steals my breath away. I can’t
believe how fucking lucky I am. I lift her, sheet and all, and carry her back
to her room, where I spend the next hour making sweet love to her.

Chapter Twenty

Skila

"Hey,
where you going?" he asks hoarsely.

"I'm
going to make breakfast."

"Ok,"
he replies, rolling over and pulling the covers above his head.

I
search the cabinets, looking for pancake mix and coffee, but I find nothing, so
I decide to mix my own.

I think
back to how my Nana used to make them. I light the
burner and pull some eggs from the refrigerator. The batter is lumpier than I
recall, so I stir more vigorously. I can't help but laugh at myself. I've never
been the best cook. I pour the batter in the pan and search for a spatula. I
turn the pancakes, and the urge to pee hits. I turn down the burner and dash to
the bathroom. I finish and open the door, only to be met by billowing smoke as
the loud, screeching sound of the smoke alarm reminds me of how badly I suck.

"Well,
damn." I mutter, running to the stove, yanking the pan from the burner, and
turning on the water.

"Sky?
Is everything ok?" Kip asks, running into the kitchen, coughing from smoke
inhalation. I figure at this point I have two options. I can either fall into a
ball of tears and melt on the spot, or I can suck it up and make the best of an
already bad situation. Running toward Kip, I grab his arm and drag him away
from the kitchen.

“Run,
Kip.” I scream pulling behind me.

“Why
are we running?" he yells back at me. I stop in the hallway and open the
linen closet door, hiding both of our bodies behind it.

“There’s
a fire breathing dragon in the kitchen. Didn’t you see all the smoke? Shh.
He’ll hear you,” I say and then rush down the hall. Kip follows closely behind
me. When we near the bathroom, my legs are swept out from under me and I’m
suddenly lifted in strong arms that cradle me on each side of my body. He makes
a turn for the bathroom, and after entering, he kicks the door closed before
setting me on the counter.

“What
are we doing in the bathroom?”

“Dragons
are terrified of water. Didn’t you know?” You’ll be safe in here while I go
tame the beast, my lady.”

“Why,
thank you, Sir Kip.” He laughs before capturing my lips with his own. I don’t
want him to ever stop kissing me, but he pulls away and runs to turn on the
shower.

“Stay
in your tower, my princess. I will fetch you when the beast is no more.”

“Be
safe.”

My
shower is amazing. I spend the next ten minutes letting the hot water wash away
the remnants of our lovemaking, and then I climb from the warm, steamy room and
make my way back to the kitchen. I’m surprised to see that the smoke is cleared
away and the kitchen is cleaner than before I started cooking.

“Are
you hungry?”

I nod and pull up a
bar stool to observe. The way he moves around the kitchen is like a symphony of
graceful movements, much like when he’s on the court. "What are you
making?" I ask, looking at the various ingredients he's pulled out.

"French toast
and dragon bacon. I figured you can't go wrong with bacon,” he replies with a
wink. The smoldering remnants and burned smell of my disasters quickly
dissipate into the smell of bacon and cinnamon. It’s almost orgasmic, in a
sense.

"Where did you
learn to cook like that?"

"Well, my
grandmother took us in after our parents died, and I was always watching her
cook. Nothing was ever simple. She was always experimenting with recipes. After
I got to be about fourteen, I started helping and have been cooking ever
since."

“It smells
wonderful." He smiles, handing me a plate and sitting on the counter next
to me.

The first bite is
exquisite. "Oh my God," I mutter. "It’s so good."

He smiles and
lightly elbows me in the ribs. "What can I say? I'm multitalented.”

I
nod and shovel another forkful into my mouth. "Mmm."

"Those
sounds are familiar," he says, trying to hide the grin playing at his
lips.

"Oh
hush," I reply, covering my mouth.

"You
know it's bad manners to talk with your mouth full." I nod and flip him
the bird.

"Now,
that can surely be arranged." I can feel the blood beginning to flush my
cheeks. Swallowing my bite, I level my best resting bitch face at him.

“Save
it, Buster, or you won’t be getting anything of the sort for a
while.
”

He
shoves a bite of French toast in his mouth and mimics zipping his lips tight. I
nearly choke, I’m laughing at him so hard.