Never Can Tell (3 page)

“I'm scared,” I tell him, and he reaches out right away, taking my hand in his ringed one, curling his fingers tight around me.

“Why?” Neither of us gets up to go inside. The rain starts to pour. I watch as Ty's ebony hair falls into his eyes and sheds droplets down his cheeks, along the tip of his nose. “You know I'd never let anything or anyone come between us.”

“I know,” I whisper, and my voice is hard to hear over the sound of wetness cascading around us. My cigarette goes out and I toss it into the grass.

“Then what's wrong? I know this place isn't a palace, but it's … I'm trying to make it a home for you, for Noah.” Tears fall from my wide eyes, but I don't let Ty know they're there. I pretend it's just rain, just cold droplets of fallen sky. I don't know how to explain how I feel to Ty. I've been trying, but it's not easy. I open my mouth to speak when my eye catches on the laptop.

“Shit!” I grab the computer with one hand and pull my shirt down with the other. Ty picks up the baby monitor and follows me inside, letting the screen door fall closed behind us. I swipe droplets off the smooth top with one hand and head into the kitchen to grab a dish towel. Noah begins to cry.

Ty watches me for a moment and then sets the monitor down on the table, moving up the stairs without another word. I want to follow after him and be a good mom and a good wife, but I'm not sure if I can. I've been feeling less and less adequate lately, like I'm not good enough to be the woman they both need. My back hits the cabinet, and I slide to the floor, setting the laptop down next to me and wrapping my arms around my knees. My boobs hurt like hell and I'm nauseous as fuck. Plus, my emotions have just fallen over the edge of the cliff and hit a horrible low. I'm supposed to be happy now. I have Ty and Noah; I've made up with most of my family, confronted Luis. But something is still missing and I'm not quite sure what it is.

I want to blame it on the house or the New York weather or the shitty buzzing noise that our fridge makes, but if I'm honest, I know that it's all coming from within: I don't feel like I deserve this perfect, fairytale ending. I want it, but I still don't believe that it's something Never Ross should be blessed with.

When I hear Ty coming down the stairs, I dash at my eyes with the back of my hand to make sure they're clear and stand up, taking the computer with me. I toss it onto the counter and start to prepare a bottle. When he steps into the kitchen, I'm smiling and pretending nothing wrong.

Neither of us acknowledges that he can see right through me.

4

Ty puts the baby carrier on this time and doesn't care that people give us looks over the bullet drawings. They don't get it, but we do. I hold back a secret smile.

We have to walk to the store because we don't have a car. The rental we had when we first arrived has long since been returned, but it hasn't mattered. We're not too far from the historic downtown area and haven't wanted for anything since we arrived. Except maybe my family. I've missed them like crazy, maybe even more so than the last time I left home. If money wasn't so tight, I'd have flown down there a dozen times already. More than once, I thought about asking Noah again, but I just couldn't do it. Pride wouldn't let me.

My eyes shift up and watch the gentle roil of autumn sky. The rain has stopped for now and doesn't seem like it'll be back for awhile. Just in case, we brought an umbrella anyway. It has an anarchy symbol on the top of it, courtesy of Ty's storage unit back in Cali. Lacey shipped all of that over to us, too – and paid for it. It surprises me sometimes that I ended up with good people around me. I spent so long feeling alone and lost that I'm having a hard time dealing with being found.

“Okay, so,” Ty begins as I reach over and take his hand, squeezing it tighter than an afternoon walk would normally warrant. I just need him to feel me here with him, to know that even though I didn't quite answer his question, that I fucking love him so much it hurts. He returns the squeeze and gives me a dimpled smile. I know the subject isn't over yet, but I'm glad he isn't making a big deal out of it either. “We need toilet paper, formula, diapers … ” I watch him cradling our kid's head with one hand, holding mine with the other. He's dressed in a yellow Sexual Obsession Group T-shirt, the one that says
Get SOGgy. Sexual obsession is a disease. Find your cure today.
I think that it's fitting considering that we're each other's cure. “Shampoo, milk, cereal,” Ty continues, looking like a walking razor blade, sharp and deadly, sexy but dangerous. Even in this domestic setting, he looks wild. I pretend I don't notice when other women check him out, but I do, and I get a perverse pleasure out of it. “And condoms.” Ty gives me a look and I bite my lip.

“Yeah, that would probably be good,” I say, thinking about how bad we've been about using them. This sort of attitude is going to get us in trouble again. I don't count the number of unprotected sex sessions we've had in the past few weeks.

“Want to get a goodie?” Ty asks randomly, running his tongue across his lips and casting a glance my way that makes my body hot and soaks my shirt with sweat. He may as well be focusing a fucking laser my way. I try to return his look with one of my own, and feel satisfied when he smirks and swipes his left hand through his hair.

“What kind of goodie?”

“Like a toy or some shit,” he tells me, taking his hand from mine and pretending to cover Noah's ears. “Something to make up for having to use a rubber. A vibrator or anal beads or a swing.” I laugh, and it feels good, too good. I should've known that this little up was going to brief, that by the time evening rolled around, I'd be sitting in the bathroom sobbing. I'm just marked by the universe to be shit on.

“A swing?” I ask, trailing the end of the umbrella against the sidewalk. We've just hit the first of the shops and are starting towards the grocery store at the end of the block. Oddly enough, in this mix of taffy shops and clothing boutiques, there's a sex shop called
Fluttering Lashes
with lingerie in the front and naughty stuff in the back. We've only been in there once, and we took Noah with us. People stared and whispered, but neither of us gave a shit. We still don't. If we're going to buy a sex toy, we're going to walk in there with our baby and buy one. “How about a cock ring?”

“How about whatever you want?”

“I want you,” I say and he grins.

“I fucking love you,” he replies, and we continue on in silence, wrapped in naughty thoughts. I've never used a sex toy of any kind with a partner before. One night stands don't usually yield the opportunity to whip out a strap on and ask your partner if he's into anal. I glance over at Ty from under a wave of my hair. I bet he's used just about everything in the book, but I'm not going to ask. I don't want to know.

When we hit the store, we divide and conquer. Ty goes for food and I hit the personal aisles, grabbing our baby supplies, the shampoo, the toilet paper. I decide that I'll probably need some tampons soon and pick those up on my way to the condoms. On the top shelf, pregnancy tests stare down at me with nasty, little smirks. I don't think I need any, but I grab a box to use just in case. It's always nice to be sure and it doesn't hurt to check every once in awhile.

When Ty and I meet back up and he sees this on the belt, he gives me a look.

“No,” I say before he can even ask. “It's just another level of precaution.”

And that, of course, is just more ignorant, wishful thinking.

5

When we get back to the house, I end up with horrible cramps and decide to curl up on our bed with Noah tucked in next to me. Ty leaves us there and continues his work on the room across from ours. It's the most densely packed with items, many of them in pretty good condition. This is also the room where Ty's mother stored most of their family photos. Every once in awhile, McCabe comes in and flashes me a photo of him as a child. Sometimes, when I peek in on him, I see him sitting there and staring at something with a blank stare. I don't ever ask about those pictures.

I turn the pages of my novel with one hand and use the other to hold my strawberry smoothie, the one Ty got for me when even I had forgotten my craving. Ever since I got pregnant with Noah, I've been obsessed with strawberries. I keep wondering when it'll pass.

“Hey Nev,” Ty says a while later, when I've finally turned the last page of my novel and been hit with the biggest book hangover
ever.
Sometimes I think it's possible for a book to be too good. If it's bad, who cares if it's over? “Is Noah asleep?” I look down and examine my son's face. It's round and pudgy, too cute to be a product of Ty and me. We're both so … fucked up, and Noah is just … just Noah. I touch his cheek with the back of my hand.

“Yeah, I think so,” I say as Ty tiptoes in and slides his inked hands under the baby's body, picking him up so softly, so gently that he doesn't wake. Ty's bracelets jingle merrily, but they don't bother Noah. I think he associates that sound with his father already. I imagine that it's more comforting than anything else. “Be right back,” he whispers. “I got a present for you.”

I raise my eyebrows and watch him go, sitting up and stretching, wondering what he could possibly have gotten in our brief time apart. Ty and I rarely spend any time apart, not even when we're here at home. Always, always we're together, pulled close by a magnetic force that pushes and pulls that makes us feel safe and dangerous at the same time, ignites the soul and cools the heart.
I love that fucking man.

I brush my fingers over the corner of my book as I wait, my mind drifting from one subject to another.
I need to go back to school. Ty needs to go to school. Noah needs us to go
to school. But how do we make this work? How do we get through this?
Sometimes I think that I'm too young to have a kid and then I get paralyzed by fear. This is almost one of those moments, but as usual, Ty steps in to save me.

A purple, plastic bag hits the end of the bed near my feet. I glance at it and realize where it's from. The sex shop downtown.

“You fucking bastard,” I whisper, but I'm smiling already. “You said you had trouble finding the Cheerios. I knew that was a load of bullshit.”

“Nah, I was just having trouble finding the cock rings. They were hidden on a display between the glass dildos and the rabbit vibes.” I laugh as I pull my gift up with my toe, grabbing it in greedy hands and dumping the contents out on the bed next to me. It's like a naughty bag of party favors for that birthday party where only you're invited. “Did you get the condoms?” he asks me, and I nod.

“They're in the bathroom.”

Ty disappears for a moment to retrieve the box while I dig through the items he purchased. He did, indeed, grab a cock ring along with a pair of lacy, crotchless panties, and some flavored lube. It's not a lot, but it's enough. It's always enough with Tyson Monroe McCabe. Just the gesture is fucking cute.

When Ty returns, he's already naked and has a condom between his teeth. I watch as he adjusts the volume on the baby monitor and switches off the overhead light, leaving us with the dim lighting from the lamp on the nightstand. When he grabs it in two fingers and winks at me, I know I'm in trouble.

“We can't just fuck all the time,” I tell him, not because I want to start a fight or anything but because I have to distract myself from his hard body. I swear, the man never works out, but he manages to keep a fucking six pack and pecs like rocks. His arms are colorful swarms of brightness, fluttering over the rounded curves of his bicep and blending into the winged flock across his upper back. When he comes to me, I run my fingers over the back of his neck and the tattoo that's there, branding him as mine.
Never say Never.
I smile. “We do have to think about practical things once in a while.”

“Really?” he asks, brushing a kiss along my jaw and rolling over me, landing on the bed next to me, erection pointing up at the ceiling, begging me to grab on and take control of it. But tonight, Ty doesn't want me to take control. Just by looking in his eyes, I can tell. “Says who?” I watch as he rips open the package and pulls out the condom, giving it a distasteful glare before he slips it into his cock. I watch, mesmerized, and he knows it. My eyes narrow, but they don't stray.

“You know,” I say, ignoring his question. He knows what has to be done. I can't doubt that. Ty won't let anything happen to our new family. I'm not a sniveling, little bitch who's incapable of taking care of herself, but at the same time, I know Ty has that old school responsibility thing going on. He's a real man and he'll take care of us like a real man should. I just hope I can match up to him and be a real woman for our family. As of now, I think I'm falling short. “If you hadn't been so opposed to these things,” I flick my fingers in the direction of his dick, but I don't touch it, not yet. I'm already soaked down there and my thighs are rubbing against one another in anticipation. “We wouldn't have had a baby ten months after meeting each other in a seedy bar.” Ty laughs at me and strokes his hand down his shaft, using the lube from the condom to keep it nice and slick. My tongue runs across my lower lip.

“Then I guess we made a good decision, huh?” Ty slides his hand over my belly and grabs the underwear, picking them up with a single finger. “Now be a good girl and put your panties on.”

“Go to hell,” I tell him, but I stand up, enjoying this feeling of being sexy for Ty, of being free. I strip my shirt and bra off, drop my jeans to the floor. While Ty pleasures himself, I change out my boyshorts for the crotchless panties. “These are fucking ridiculous, you know?” I tell him. He darts forward suddenly and grabs me by the wrist, pulling me onto the bed and rolling on top of me in a single motion. His bracelets jingle as he reaches out and switches off the lamp.

“Oh come on, Never,” he whispers in the sudden darkness, leaning down, breathing against my forehead. “You know you like them. Easy access, right?”

“Easy access would mean going commando, Ty.”