Stepbrother Romance 2 - Consumed: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance (4 page)

BOOK: Stepbrother Romance 2 - Consumed: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance
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Chapter 4

“Fuck you! You push this goddamn baby out! You asshole, you put it in me.” Ransom growled, bearing down, her face deep scarlet. “I knew he’d be a pain in my ass!”

“Breathe, Ransom. Breathe,” I said over her shouting.

“I am fucking breathing,” she shrieked, her expression scary-violent. “Goddamn it, everyone get out of my face!”

I stepped back to give my best friend some breathing space. Her face was the shade of an eggplant, swollen, and slick with sweat. She looked like she was going to burst every blood vessel in her body if she pushed any harder. I was terrified for her. My insides were doing summersaults. But at least I was still vertical.

Her husband’s skin was the shade of a toad. And although he was also vertical, I had a feeling he’d be dropping any second now.

The nurse took one look at him, grabbed his arm and hauled him to a chair. “The last thing we need right now is Dad passing out on us. Head down.” She pushed on his shoulders, forcing his head between his knees. She glanced at me. “Do I need to do this to you, too?”

“No, I’m fine,” I lied. Little stars twinkled, obscuring my sight, but there was no way I could leave Ransom to fight this battle alone, not after everything she’d done for me. I slid my hand into hers, and her fingers clenched like a vise, cracking my bones and making me wince. “Okay, Ransom. It’s right there. I can see the head. Push!”

“I am pushing, dammit!” she shout-growled as she bore down. “This kid’s head has got to be the size of a watermelon!”

“I see it. Just a little more!” I coached, trying to ignore the excruciating pain in my hand. There was plenty of time later, after the baby came, to get x-rays.

I felt myself trying to push for her. It was agonizing, watching her in such pain. She was exhausted, frustrated, and yet driven to push that baby out. I could only imagine how much it hurt. Based on what I was witnessing, I never wanted to have a child. To hell with that!

The nurse yelled, “Push, push, push. Don’t stop.”

Ransom growled and fumed and sputtered.

The doctor calmly waited, seated at the end of the bed.

Suddenly, Ransom screeched and out popped a wet head covered in dark hair. The pale little face was all scrunched up, lips pursed.

John jumped to his feet and shouted, “Baby! You did it!” then he dropped to the floor.

And while Ransom reached down and pulled her newborn baby to her chest, a nurse ran to the unconscious man sprawled on the floor.

I looked at John. I looked at Ransom. I looked at their child…and I cried. It was all too much to take in. The image of my best friend cradling her newborn
daughter
in her arms. The knowledge that her life, John’s life, all of our lives, were forever changed. The recognition that John and Ransom were not only married but connected by the child they shared. Surely that would strengthen their marriage. As if to prove my theory true, John dragged his barely-conscious self over to her bedside and hugged them both, tears streaming from his eyes.

“It’s a girl. A baby girl.” Ransom cried.

I cried.

John cried.

The baby, who was supposed to be John Jr., wasn’t crying. Dark eyes wide open, she took in the new sights around her, content and safe in her mother’s loving arms.

Birth was beautiful.

Maybe I
would
have a child someday.

Maybe. If I ever let myself fall in love again, which was something I hadn’t even wanted to think about since I’d left Kent’s house.

My cellphone rang and I checked it. Mom. One glance at the happy family and I knew they wouldn’t miss me if I stepped outside to talk to her. Shaking out the stiffness from my aching hand, I walked to the family waiting room and took the call.

“Hi honey, it’s Mom.”

Like I didn’t know that already. Her name displayed on my phone screen. “Hi Mom. What’s up?”

“You know Dirk and I have been planning a big party for the Fourth of July next week. It’s kind of our farewell party before we head to Alaska. I want to make sure you’ll come.”

My still-summersaulting insides did a triple flip. There could be no doubt.
That man
would be at the party. And maybe his wife, too. That was why Mom was calling.

Did I want to see him? No.

Did I want to see his wife? Ohmygod, no.

But could I miss it? Not a chance. It would break Mom’s heart.

“Yes, of course I’ll come,” I told her. The muscle in my temple squeezed. I pressed a finger against it, trying to stop the spasm.

“Thank you, dear. It’ll be so nice to spend some time with you. I miss you.”

“You know I’m always here for you, Mom. No matter how far away I’m living.”

“Yes, I know. And I love you for that. Well, I’d better get going. We’re finalizing the guest list and menu. I’ll see you next weekend.”

“I’ll see you then. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, Shayne. Bye.”

Well that was a quick call.

The week after I left Plymouth, Mom’s calls weren’t so brief. Or so infrequent. In fact, she called me every single day and tried for at least an hour to convince me it was perfectly okay to accept a house from a “member of the family”, despite his marital status. After all, the gift was an act of generosity, one family member helping another, not meant as any kind of payment or attempt at manipulation.

I wanted to believe her. I really did. Because owning my own home, that home, was a dream-come-true.

But Mom didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t know that I’d surrendered my virginity to the man who was offering the gift. And I wasn’t about to tell her, not knowing it might ruin her marriage with Dirk or snuff out the happiness she’d finally found for herself.

And so I continued to stay with Ransom and John the past few weeks, closed up in the sweltering hot attic room between shifts at Romeo’s Pizza Palace, the gnarly little hole-in-the-wall pizzeria down the street. Making a whopping eight bucks an hour, I wasn’t moving out anytime soon. I just hoped our living arrangement could hold up.

That wasn’t exactly a given.

Despite my attempts to stay out of the way, lately, the physical and emotional strain of her pregnancy had gotten to Ransom. She wasn’t the most patient person anyway. With the added aches, pains, and discomforts of late pregnancy, she’d become a little bipolar. I was suffering from her angry out-lashes and hysterical bawling sessions. And I could tell they were taking their toll on her relationship with John as well. He didn’t say anything to me. Or to Ransom. He didn’t need to. His forlorn expression and frequent late nights at work said it all.

But that was over, thank God. John Junior had been born. And Pregnant Ransom was a mere (unpleasant) memory.

But what was next? I wasn’t sure any of us were prepared for it, least of all Ransom.

We would find out soon. Tomorrow.

Our cozy little threesome had become a foursome.

 

 

 

John dragged in at almost one A.M., eyes so sunken, and bruises under them so deep, I would have sworn he’d been in a fistfight.

He loped into the kitchen, where I happened to be standing at the time, pouring myself a (second) big glass of post-baby-birthing-wine. The first glass hadn’t totally obliterated the trauma, so of course I’d opted for another.

But instead of guzzling it down, I handed it to the exhausted new father.

His eyes told me exactly how grateful he was for it. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he pounded the wine like a frat boy. When the last drop was gone, he licked his lips and eyed the bottle.

“Be my guest. You deserve some celebrating tonight.” I tried, with as steady a hand as possible, to refill his glass. Then, aware John was watching me, waiting for me to join him, I grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet, filled it and lifted it to make a toast. “To you, Ransom, and John Junior’s health and happiness.”

He said nothing, just clinked his glass against mine and emptied it as quickly as he had the first.

After two more, I asked him, “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Not a thing. What could be wrong? My wife just had a baby. Named her Johnette. I didn’t want to be one of those parents, the ones that give their kid a ridiculous name. But whatever. Both Ransom and Johnette are healthy. We’re happy. Everything is perfect.”

“Okay.” He was lying about the perfect thing, of course. I knew it. Why else would he be trying to drown himself in cheap wine? But I was a little buzzed and knew now was not the time to prod. So I handed the bottle to him and pointed at the ceiling, which was swaying slightly. “Johnette is a pretty name. Good choice. I’ve had enough wine. Going to bed. G’night.”

“Yeah. Night.”

I bounced into a wall once or twice on the way up to my room and flopped onto my bed. Oh, hell, it was hot. My stomach rolled like a ship being tossed by a tsunami.

Tonight I would have to sleep nude. Either that or die from heat stroke.

I stripped down to my birthday suit, turned on the box fan stuffed in the window, and closed my eyes. The bed spun then bounced, seeming to tip to one side. I lifted one eyelid.

Okay, the mattress’ dip wasn’t the result of bed spins. Someone had joined me.

I grabbed the sheet and ripped it up to cover myself. “What the fuck?” I shrieked.

My visitor, John, blinked pleading eyes at me. “I’ve fucked up.”

“Yes, you have. What are you doing?”

“I mean, I’ve fucked up with Ransom,” he said, words slurred more than a little. “I don’t love her. I never loved her. I love you.” He reached for me, but I slapped his hand away.

“Oh no. Nonononono.” I skittered backward, crab-walking away from the drunken man on my bed. “You can’t do this to her. I thought you were in love!”

He crawled on all fours toward me, cornering me at the head of the bed when I ran into the headboard. “When Ransom told me about the baby, I felt I needed to do the right thing. But I’ve been so fucking miserable since I moved in. You have no idea. I hate my life.”

“Tough shit.” I smacked a pillow over myself, clasping it against my chest. “You can’t do this. Ransom is counting on you. And so is that baby. That innocent little baby, John Junior—erm, Johnette.”

He jammed his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. I know. The baby. What am I going to do? I can’t stay here with her. Not another week, let alone eighteen fucking years. We’re too different, Ransom and me. We don’t get along.”

“You got along well enough to produce a baby,” I pointed out as I planted my feet against his body, holding him back. “So you’d better figure out how to get along well enough to raise it.”

“There’s no way,” he groaned.

“There has to be.”

“But I love
you
.”

I slitted my eyes at him. “Sorry, dude, but that train left the station a long time ago. Remember, I broke up with you? Years ago.”

“But you still love me,” he slurred, heavy eyelids at half-mast. He knocked my feet aside and tumbled forward, landing on his belly. His head plopped into my lap. “I can tell,” he said to the pillow, the only thing between my crotch and his face.

BOOK: Stepbrother Romance 2 - Consumed: A New Adult Alpha Billionaire Romance
5.33Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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