The Playboy's Baby: A BWWM Pregnancy Romance (11 page)

When Rafe finally left the hospital room, Cheryl leaned back and let the bed and sheets engulf her like waves on her favorite spot on the white sand beaches of Florida. The silence lulled her to sleep for only a couple hours before she was awoken by the door creaking open. As she blinked and cleared the sleepy haze from her eyes, she realized that the woman who walked in through the door was one of the secretaries at the office.

“Sara?” she asked. “What are you doing here?”

The short, red-headed secretary smiled at her and produced a bouquet of flowers from behind her back. “I came bringing gifts from Patrick.”

“Oh!” Cheryl was more surprised than she would have expected. “Patrick? Patrick Raymond?”

Sara grinned. “Right?” She set the vase full of flowers on a table across the room. She fluffed some of the petals and flowers. “When Rafe magically appeared back at the office, he told his dad about where you were. So Patrick sent me down with these flowers and some important instructions.”

“Important instructions?” Cheryl’s heart jumped into her throat.

“He says to take an extra day after you get out of the hospital so that you can fully recover. You know, before you even think about coming in. I think he’s pretty fond of you for some reason.” Sara beamed.

Sara had been at the office a couple years longer than Cheryl and quickly made a name for herself there.  She was a couple years younger than Cheryl and was one of the prettiest women that she had ever met – not to mention, one of the most top heavy ones. Sara didn’t let that hinder her, though – she was one of the brightest and the most intelligent of the secretaries. The only thing that bothered Cheryl about her was that Sara wasn’t looking to move up in the ranks. She was perfectly content working as a secretary for Patrick.

“Also, I wanted to come so that I could see how you are doing myself,” Sara said. “By the way that Rafe was describing you, I was expecting to see you in a wheelchair with only one arm and one leg left.”

Cheryl rolled her eyes. “I don’t get him.”

“Rafe is fond of you,” Sara said. “Makes sense, though. You guys work really well together. He just wants to make sure you’re staying healthy so that you won’t leave him for very long. His whole – well, your whole – organization system falls apart when you’re not there. You should see him. I think he forgets to eat, too.”

Cheryl grinned. “He gets pretty engulfed by his work. He’s a slave to it.”

“Yeah, work is his mistress, isn’t it?” Sara said. Her eyes glittered. She was hiding something.

“Yeah,” Cheryl said, matter-of-factly. “Work is his mistress.”

“His only mistress?” Sara asked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She could feel her cheeks flush. She suddenly didn’t feel very good. Cheryl tried to keep her composure but her blood pressure monitor was giving her away.

“Don’t even try to pull that.” Sara’s smile was sweet and appeared genuine but Cheryl didn’t know what she wanted from her. “I’ve seen the two of you exchanging glances. I see the way that he looks at you. He’s got the hots for you. You can’t possibly tell me that you don’t want to hit that.” She let out a giggle that reminded Cheryl of her high school days, sitting on her bed with her best friends – friends that she hadn’t talked to in forever.

“Of course I’m attracted to him. I wouldn’t…you know. I wouldn’t act on it or anything.” Cheryl’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t needed to lie about that night before. It never came up in conversation – even with Rafe. Sure, they had exchanged glances. She thought about that night often, but she never had to talk about it before. A rush of guilt overcame her. She sank down in her bed.

“Aww, you don’t have to feel bad about it,” Sara said, trying desperately to read the look on Cheryl’s face. “I’ve always been attracted to him He’s a good-looking guy. Not to mention a complete sweetheart. I mean, what’s with his new dog? Ugh, like he couldn’t get any more adorable.” Sara sat down on the edge of the bed. “He’s married though – all the good ones are.”

Cheryl gritted her teeth. “Yeah. He is.” She looked away, trying not to let Sara see the anger building up inside her but she couldn’t help herself. “Have you met his wife?”

Sara shrugged. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen pictures though. She’s got a pretty face.”

“Yeah, well…”

“And a pretty smokin’ body, too.”

Cheryl looked down at her stomach and wrapped her arms around her abdomen. “Yeah.”

Sara wrapped her arms around Cheryl in response. Sara’s ample bosom pressed against her cheek. “You’re beautiful, lady! Don’t you forget that.” Sara let go. “Prettier than that skanky hoe that Rafe’s married to.”

Cheryl laughed at Sara’s pathetic attempt at being a good friend. “Thanks.”

“So…” Sara leaned in real close. “Who’s the baby daddy?”

“Just some guy.”
Some guy?
Cheryl thought. “I had one too many and had this one night stand. It was stupid but…”

“You’re going to keep it?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t possibly give her up.”

The silence made Cheryl look up into Sara’s eyes, which gleamed with pride. “You know you won’t be raising that baby alone, right? I’m totally here for you if you need me.” She brushed some of Cheryl’s hair behind her ear. “I watch after my cousin’s baby all the time.” Her hand recoiled and attached itself to her hip in one smooth sassy motion. “Haven’t dropped it once.”

Cheryl let out a guffaw. “Well that’s good to know.”

*   *   *

To Rafe, there was nothing more horrifying than the ratchety clank of the metal bars of prison, the mechanical whir as they opened and the sound of finality as they slammed into place. He took a deep breath before walking into the front doors of the state penitentiary. His father put many a man in here and he was pretty sure that they all knew what his face looked like, as well.

“Your father said that he would be with you today,” said the guard at the security station.

“Yeah, he told me to go along and that he’d be here soon.”

The guard grinned. “You wanna wait out there? You look a little nervous there, kiddo.”

Rafe took another deep breath and composed himself. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Good boy. Keep tellin’ yerself that.” He looked down at his keyboard and pushed a couple of buttons. The door from the waiting area to the hallway leading to the rest of the prison buzzed and a green light illuminated over the top of the door frame. Rafe opened it and walked inside. A guard waited for him there and patted him down, then led him through the other door and the long corridor. The walls were lined with framed pictures of each of the guards, intermittently broken up by an office door.

“You need to hit the head before we get back there?” asked the guard.

“Nope. Just want to get this over with.”

“Prisons used to make me nervous, too,” the guard offered. “You get used to it. If you’re anywhere as successful as your dad, you’ll be visiting a lot of prisons too.”

Rafe forced a grin. “I can only hope,” he lied.

The visitation rooms were in a different hallway that was equally as long but more narrow. Each side of the hallway had an alternating pattern of window, door, window, door, etc. A few of the doors had a couple of guards standing on either side. These rooms had visitors and their inmates in them. The guard let Rafe into a room that had one guard next to the door. The guard who led him there opened the door and walked in with him. He stood next to the door and motioned for Rafe to continue on to the table.

The room was empty except for a table, which was bolted to the floor and three chairs. The two closest to him were vacant, the one on the other side of the table was occupied by a smallish man. His orange jumpsuit almost seemed a little too big for him. The top button was undone and Rafe could see that he wore a white shirt underneath the coveralls. His hands were handcuffed to the side of the table. He kept his eyes glued to the scratched metal tabletop as Rafe walked up to it. As he pulled the chair out, it scraped quietly against the floor. The prisoner twitched at the noise and slowly lifted up his head.  

Stephen Roche looked like the broken shell of a man. His eyes were empty; what once used to be a bright blue were now a dark, greyish blue. Dulled with the mistreatment of prison.

“My name is Patrick Raymond. You can call me Rafe,” he started before he even sat down.

“Rafe…” the man repeated. He scoffed.

“My father will be along in a moment. For now, let’s get started. As your lawyers—"

“Why are you my lawyers?” he suddenly asked. His voice raised with a sense of urgency and annoyance.

“My father believes in your innocence.”

“And you?”

“With the police incompetence in handling your case, I think we can cast the shadow of reasonable doubt over the case,” Rafe replied.

“How diplomatic of you,” Stephen said. “Do you believe that I am innocent?”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

“What if I told you that I did kill those girls?”

“As your lawyer, I need to advise you to stop talking about that and to only answer my questions prior to my father arriving here.”

“Hmph.” Stephen scoffed again. “I don’t want you defending me if you don’t think I’m innocent. You’ll do a horrible job.”

Rafe sat down in the chair sitting directly across from Stephen. He set his briefcase on the ground next to him and looked straight into Stephen’s dead eyes. “I already told you that it doesn’t matter what I think. I’m in this to win it. We’re not going to represent you if we think that we can’t win it.”

As he opened his briefcase and flipped through some of the papers, the only image that he could concentrate on was the dead look in Stephen’s eyes. Had he been wrong about him? Was Stephen innocent? He had seen that look before when someone had given up on everything – on life. Rafe took the papers out of his briefcase and set it on the floor. He looked up at the man across the table from him.

Chapter Six

The courtroom smelled of a lemon cleaning agent and wood. It was one of the perks of working in one of the nicest courtrooms in the state. This one didn’t smell like pee and sweat. Not like the courtrooms where Rafe had started his career.

Rafe sat uncomfortably close to Stephen at the defense table. He adjusted the collar on his suit and straightened the fabric on his waistcoat, trying to stay busy while they waited. His father was late, again. Meanwhile, Stephen nervously played with the end of his blue tie.

“How are you doing, Steve?” Rafe asked.

His client just shrugged. “Nervous, I guess. I don’t like the prison or this courtroom. All these cops, looking at me like I’m guilty. I thought I was supposed to be innocent until proven guilty.”

Rafe nodded. “Yes, just ignore them. People have their perceptions. These crimes that you are charged with – they’re not just about stealing candy from a convenience store. This is a murder trial.” He patted him on the shoulder.

Since they had to spend more time together in order to work on the case, Rafe felt more at ease around Stephen – not fully, but he was getting there. He still felt slightly agitated around him. There was something off about him but Rafe couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The graying and distinguished Judge Bayland leaned back in his seat and stared at Rafe in frustration and impatience. The lines on his face that normally made him appear sweet and mimicked Santa Claus, now formed frown lines all over his face.

“Do we really need to wait for your father, Mr. Raymond? It is an arraignment.” Bayland rubbed his brow.

“No, I suppose not,” Rafe said, standing up. He nudged Stephen to stand up as well.

“Very well,” Bayland said, sitting up straight. He picked up the pen sitting in front of him. “Mr. Roche, how do you plead?”

Rafe shuffled some papers on the desk. “My client pleads Not Guilty, your honor.”

“Very well, then this case is set over for trial. Pending motions, of course.”

Rafe stepped up. “My client and I would like to waive motions, your honor. We’re ready and willing to proceed to trial.”

Bayland looked at the prosecution. “People on bail?”

The prosecuting attorney stood up straight. He was a tall, thin…new. Rafe had never seen him before. The attorney’s office must be bringing in new meat to the case as well. “Remand, your honor,” the attorney said. “He has been accused of heinous crimes and is a flight risk.”

“With all due respect, your honor,” Rafe interrupted. “He works a trade job with a disabled wife who doesn’t work. He has a family and ties to the community. He isn’t a flight risk.”

“Unfortunately, due to the severity of the crime, I am apt to remand him at the penitentiary pending trial.” The gavel struck and that was that. The bailiff took a step forward, eyeballing Stephen – as if to say, “Don’t you dare take off.”

“Don’t worry,” Rafe whispered. “Your family is being taken care of by your wife’s brother. They’ll be fine while we’re waiting for trial. We’ll get started as soon as we can and get you out of here.”

Stephen nodded and let the bailiff take him by his handcuffs.

*   *   *

“How was arraignment?” asked Patrick. Rafe poked his head into his father’s office.

“You hung me out to dry,” Rafe said.

Patrick scoffed. “It’s only arraignment.”

“Just tell me when you’re not going to show up.” He gritted his teeth. “Stephen’s going to be wearing orange until the trial. But we didn’t really expect anything less. I already told him that when we first met. Speaking of which, I don’t think you’ve even met him. It’s like you’re playing telephone with our client and I’m the cup and string.”

“I told you that I wanted you to take the lead with this one.”

“I’m not an ADA yet, Dad. I can’t take the lead yet.”

Patrick shrugged. “I’ll be in court next time.” The chair squeaked under him as he shifted his weight around. He motioned for Rafe to come in and shut the door behind him. “You go over the witness list yet? Go over their testimonies?”

Rafe nodded. “Yeah, yeah.” He took a seat in the cushy chair across from his father at the desk. “Cheryl’s coming in today. She’s going to help me organize all the paperwork so that I won’t look like a bumbling idiot when I bring everything to the meeting tomorrow.”

Patrick nodded. His eyes looked past Rafe – which worried him. He didn’t like not knowing what his father was thinking. “I’m glad that she’s feeling better. You two work well together. Speaking of ‘together’, how is that pretty wife of yours?” His gaze moved back down, meeting Rafe’s stare. “You haven’t been spending a lot of time with her lately. She’s not feeling neglected, now is she?”

“She knew what this marriage was going to be like,” Rafe said. “I didn’t, but she did.”

Patrick scrunched his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rafe shook his head. “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Isn’t she doing her wifely duties?”

Rafe let out a laugh. “Wifely duties? What’s that? Picking berries and bearing my children?” He looked away from his father’s judgmental stare. “She’s fine. We’ve got the maid to take care of the house. The only ‘wifely duty’ Stacey has to worry about is figuring out how to spend my money.”

A smirk crawled across Patrick’s face like a slow moving slug. “Wives are good for that.”

Rafe reached into his breast pocket and produced his cell phone. The screen lit up with a text message. “Cheryl’s in the office with coffee,” he said. “That’s what I call duty.” He didn’t bother to stay and see his father make critical faces about how he disliked how Rafe kept referring to Cheryl in that form. Cheryl was a better wife than Stacey. They both knew it, but Patrick wouldn’t admit to it.

*   *   *

The sun had set a few hours ago. The window behind Rafe’s desk was dark but picturesque, like a giant painting of a cityscape at night. Cheryl stood up from the couch and walked over to it. The view at night was always one of her favorite parts about living in the city.

She grew up with her mom in the suburb just outside of the county. It was almost like a different world. White picket fences, apple trees in the front yard, porch swings, and tree houses. She walked to school with their friends and they would often leave the front doors unlocked. There was no way that she could do that here in the city.

In fact, when her mom learned that Cheryl planned on moving into the city, she was not too thrilled. Cheryl’s mom felt abandoned. When her dad passed away, Cheryl felt like she couldn’t leave her mother’s side but her mom was insistent that she live her life – of course, that was until she said that she was going to leave for the city.

It had been months since she last talked to her mom and she wanted to change that, but deep down, she knew it would just cause another fight. She didn’t want to be cared for. She could take care of herself and her mother just couldn’t see that.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Rafe said as he walked back into his own office. “What’s up with the scowl? You feeling okay?”

“Oh!” Cheryl’s face softened quickly. She shook her head. “I’m okay. Just thinking about some things.”

“Not the baby, I hope. Everything still okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine.”

“You hungry?” he asked. He raised his arms up in the air and held up two paper bags in each hand. “I’ve got some of the best Chinese food in town. It’ll wipe that h-angry face right off your… well, face.” He chuckled.

Within minutes, there were Chinese food boxes sprawled all over the desk. Cheryl scarfed down some fried rice and was about to grab the box of orange chicken when she felt Rafe’s eyes on her. “I haven’t eaten all day,” she said. She grabbed the box and opened it up. “I’m eating for two now.” Her chopsticks dug into the orange glazed poultry. “I’m just so hungry these days,” she said, unable to keep the smile from creeping across her face. Her eyes looked up and met Rafe’s who wasn’t looking at her with a mocking smirk like she had thought, but with admiration in his eyes.

“I love you,” he said softly.

Cheryl almost dropped the chicken onto the floor. “I’m sorry, what?” she sputtered.

“I love you. I’m in love with you.” His blue eyes shone with sincerity. He wasn’t lying. At least, she couldn’t tell if he was lying.

“You have a wife,” she said.

“I don’t love her. I love you.”

“Oh my god, stop saying that. You’re freaking me out.”

The corners of his lips rose. There was something about that small smile that made her knees buckle. He didn’t have to say anything. All he had to do was look at her – like that. They both knew – for months – that these feelings were bottled up inside, but neither had the guts to admit it.

She sat down on the edge of his desk and set the paper box down on the desk next to her. Her shoulders slumped. “What are you doing?” she asked. “You’re married. I’m pregnant. Your dad will kill us. He’ll put a hit out on me and I’ll end up as a speed bump in front of the building.”

Rafe laughed. “What makes you think my dad is in the mob or has any type of mob connection-” He stopped to think for a moment. “Well, he did defend Willy Boder last fall and got him off hose murder charges.”

Cheryl raised her arms. “He could call in that favor.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “He wouldn’t waste that favor on you. You’re not
that
special.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Gee, thanks. But you can’t possibly tell me that your father just wants you to be happy.”

Rafe looked away. He knew it was true and she knew that he knew that. She could see his jawline define as he gritted his teeth.

“Stop that,” she said. He turned to her. “You always grit your teeth when you know that you’re going to lose an argument.”

Rafe’s eyes twinkled. “See, you know me so well. I’ve lived with my wife for…Pfft, what? Five long – very long – years? I’m sure she never noticed that about me.”

“It’s different with us. We work together. I spend way more time with you. I know all of your annoying habits.” She waved her hands. “Oh, the stories I could tell your wife.”

Rafe stood up and stood in front of her. He placed his hands on her knees and gently stroked the hem of her skirt. “What would you tell my wife?” he asked.

Her voice disappeared. “Um…” She cleared her throat nervously. “I would tell her that she has an incredibly attractive husband – slash – sexual animal at her disposal that she should take advantage of.” She grasped his hands in hers to keep him from trying to touch her anywhere else. “And that she’s a very lucky woman.” She could read the disappointment on his face.

“She doesn’t love me.” He slipped his hands out of hers and cupped Cheryl’s cheeks gently. “Not like you do.”

“I never told you that I love you.”

“You haven’t told me otherwise, either.”

The room went silent except for the heavy breathing of both Rafe and Cheryl. She wanted to take him right there. She wanted to tell him that she’d been in love with him since she first saw his handsome face and that she’d been lusting after him ever since they had been intimate but she couldn’t bear to be the one that broke up a marriage.

From the other side of the desk, there was a faint rustling as Oswald stretched and got up from his dog bed. He moseyed over to them and wagged his tail.

“This is what having a child would be like,” Rafe said. “I’d be ready to make my move. Sweep you off of your feet and carry you into the bedroom so that I could ravage your body, and then our daughter would come walking out of her room, so that she could ask for a glass of water.” His hands dropped down to his sides. A cocked grin was left on his face.

Cheryl couldn’t take her eyes off his lips. She wanted to kiss them and fell his breath on her.

“Children are pretty good at that, huh?” she finally mustered. Her gaze fell down at Oswald who smiled at her in his cute Terrier way. “How did you manage to get such an adorable dog?”

“My love helped me pick him out,” Rafe replied. He bent down and picked him up. Oswald licked his cheek.

Lucky dog,
Cheryl thought. Her mind wandered to her old suburban home that she grew up in. Except, instead of her mother and father, she imagined living there with Rafe and Oswald. She thought of raising their daughter in that safe neighborhood. Letting her run around with her friends without having to worry too much about her getting shot for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Building tree houses or clubhouses with signs that read “No Boys Allowed”.

“Where you off to?” Rafe asked.

Cheryl snapped out of her fantasy. “Come on,” she said. “I want to finish this so that we can go home and go to bed. I’m beat.”

“We’re almost done. Why don’t you just go home? You need your rest anyway. I’ve got this.” He lifted Oswald up to face her. “Oswald wants you to take care of yourself too.”

She ruffled Oswald’s fur. “Naw, I’m going to stay and stick this through with you. Like you said, we’re almost done.” She slid down from the table. She had let the food in her stomach sit for long enough that she no longer felt a hunger pain.