“Well, little brother, you seemed to have stepped in it once again. I suggest you help your friend clean this mess up. Preston, go get Tori. Jeff, try to call her at home to make sure she’s there.”
I did a little side shuffle in my excitement and clapped my hands together, almost bowing to Carter in my gratitude. “Thank you, sir,” I exclaimed as I bolted for the door.
Carter blocked my way and stood up to his full, intimidating height. “Oh, and Preston? If you fuck this up or hurt Tori in any way… Jeff will be the one to fire you.”
Great, I thought, but I couldn’t dwell on the threat too long. Tori, I’m coming to get you, I declared as I grabbed my suit jacket and headed for the office’s front door.
Chapter 7
Tori
The steam from my tea swirled around my mug, the string wrapped around my finger so I could stir occasionally. It had only been a couple of hours since I stormed out of work, but I felt a few years older, a few decades sadder. There was another pregnancy test sitting next to the original three in my bathroom, keeping the others company as I thought about what I was going to do. I wanted to tell Wyatt. I wanted to tell everyone, actually. But mostly, I wanted Wyatt. Just Wyatt. And I wanted him to want me, too.
Jeff’s words were still ringing in my head - He’s never wanted anything as much as he wants kids. I could almost feel the touches, kisses, and pleasure shared between Wyatt and me as they began to erase. They didn’t count; they meant nothing to him except trying to produce a child. Maybe another woman would be ecstatic to find out that her lover wanted a child, but I wanted more than a baby daddy. I wanted a man. I wanted a partner. I wanted a husband. I shook myself roughly, refusing to let the tears fall again.
As I rocked myself gently on my porch swing, I thought about what the weather would be like in nine months. Hot, probably. Sunny, slightly muggy. The baby would have to wear just his or her diaper most of the time. The thought made me smile. Who didn’t love a cute baby butt? As I was considering all the things I’d have to buy for myself and the baby, I heard a vehicle approaching from around the corner.
A red SUV pulled into the driveway - the last red SUV I wanted to see at the moment. Wyatt, my brain thought, and my body responded. My hands, of their own volition, began smoothing my hair. My spine straightened, my breasts came to attention. My brain screamed at me to get a grip, but my body just didn’t care. My body wanted him. My brain did too, but it was smarter than that. I stood as Wyatt slammed the car into park and basically leaped from the driver’s seat.
He looks upset, I noted as I moved to the edge of the porch. I put my tea down and stared squarely at his approach. His black suit was cut perfectly, the cuffs on his pants stylishly pinned. His combed-back hair made him look like a ‘50s bad boy without all the grease and God he was just so sexy. I bet our baby is going to be beautiful. The thought comes unbidden and my chest tightened. That’s probably all he wanted. A beautiful baby to call his own.
I shucked off the urge to cry and glared at Wyatt. As he approached the foot of the stairs, I realized he was glaring back. He’s furious, but what the hell does he have to be upset about?
“Why the hell did you run away, Tori?” Wyatt demanded, his arms out wide in frustration/ His ocean blue eyes were flat, almost dead. I felt bad for making him feel this way, but couldn’t bring myself to explain.
“Tori! Talk to me!” he continued to demand and he put his foot up on the first step. The encroachment on my territory stiffened my backbone and I said, “Wyatt, please just leave.” He looked slightly discouraged but not beaten as he met my gaze. He visibly softened and lowered his hands, placating me.
“Jeff told me what he said, and Jeff’s an idiot. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about and I’m here to clear the air. Can we talk inside, Tori?” I hesitated as he puts his foot on the second step but then he added, softly, “Please?”
I went a little soft at the request and stood back to gesture at the door. After you, I thought and Wyatt moved past me to hold open the door. Like the gentleman he was. Once we were seated inside, him on my grandmother’s hand-me-down love seat and me on the larger, comfier gray sofa, we simply stared at each other. He looked downright delicious, his slightly gray button shirt doing wonders for the broad angles of his chest and arms. I looked like shit, wrapped in an old tribal-designed poncho and my favorite pair of stretch leggings. I wasn’t planning on having company, I defended against myself.
“Well… the floor is yours, Wyatt. What did you come here to say to me?” I sat back, trying to look detached and uncaring. He seemed perturbed by my nonchalance, but cleared his throat.