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CHAPTER FOUR

Tara

“YOU SURE YOU want to do this?” Jeremy asks. It’s the third time he’s questioned me since we got in the car. I know he’s just being overprotective. Jeremy and I grew up as neighbors and best friends. Honestly everyone, including our own parents thought we would end up together.

We were never a couple. The closest we came was one kiss during a game of truth or dare at a birthday party before I started dating my ex-Joey. Neither of us felt a thing. No spark. No passion. It was nice. It was a good first kiss. One I have never regretted.

Not even the first few days afterwards, when I feared the kiss would make things awkward between us. It didn’t. Jeremy wouldn’t let it. Every time I felt the need to pull away from him, to give us some distance, he was right there pulling in again. Looking back, that kiss allowed us to become closer than ever. We didn’t have to walk on eggshells around each other for fear we might take a look or compliment the wrong way.

Jeremy made a promise that he would always be honest. Irritatingly so. If I looked hot, he told me. If I looked bloated, the asshole told me. When he thought my ass looking nice in jeans, he gave it a slap. There was nothing sexual between us. No lingering touches.

And I love him for it.

Can it get awkward? Yes. He is an over-sharer sometimes. I swear to god I know all the dirty details of all his hook-ups. Not that he is a major player, but he’s had a handful of flings over the years.

He’s only had one serious relationship. In high school, about a year after I got together with my ex-Joey, he started dating a girl named Candice. She was nice. Shy. She was jealous of our friendship. Had the same thoughts everyone else has, that we were secretly in love.

It took six months for her to finally realize the truth. That we loved each other, but Jeremy and I were not in love. Big difference.

They were together for four years. Going to college at separate schools put a strain on their relationship. The decision to break up was mutual, though I know Jeremy holds out hope than she will come back to him.

Looking out the window, I stare at the entrance of Eclipse. The place where I’m hoping to find Sean. We didn’t do a lot of talking when we were together, so my knowledge of his life is limited. The little bits I knew that helped me to track him down, was that he was a business man, he was the owner of Eclipse, and his full name is Sean McCarthy. If he’s not here, hopefully the manager will be able to get a message to him for me. “Yes. He deserves to know about the baby.” I reply with a nod.

“And you’ll be good with splitting custody if he wants to be in their life?” Honestly. No. I don’t want my kid growing up in a broken home. Splitting their time between two houses. Coordinating vacations, holidays, and parties around custody agreements. It sounds like an absolute headache. Alternatively, my kid grows up with just me.

Would that be bad? No. I’d love them the same either way. I’d make sure they have everything they need, and everything they want. Well…within reason.

“If he wants to be in their life, then yes. As long as he treats them well. The moment he shows any sign of being unfit, I will take him to court for full custody.”

Jeremy pulls my upper body across the center console of his truck. Wrapping his arms around me, he hugs tightly. I take a deep breath in, using his familiar scent to calm my nerves. He’s a fire fighter back in our hometown of Indianapolis, and as such, he keeps him self in very good shape. It makes his hugs all the better.

“If he says no…If he doesn’t want to be here for you, for your little one, you still have me.” There is so much sincerity in his brown eyes. He moves his hands to hold my cheeks. His thumbs rubbing tiny circles.

“Jeremy…” I don’t know what I want to say.

He doesn’t let me finish gathering my thoughts. Instead, he leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead. “I mean it. I’m here. Whatever you need. You want to get married and raise them together, I’m in. You want to get neighboring houses and make me the Uncle, I’ll do it. You want to move back in with yours parents and let me stop by each day as another male influence, you got it.”

A single tears falls down my cheek. Damn hormones.

“You don’t need to answer now. Go talk to you baby daddy first.”

“Fine.” I grumble before pulling away and opening the door. “I’ll consider all the above, except marrying you.”

He gasps dramatically and clutches a hand to his chest. “Why the hell not? I’m a fucking catch. You’d be lucky to call me hubby.”

“I would, but you would have the worst case of blue balls ever.”

He shudders at that, while I give a laugh. “Yeah, I may love you, but I ain’t going to fuck you.”

I laugh again as I close the door and make my way to the club entrance.

I’m glad I asked Jeremy to come with me. He did exactly what I needed him. He made me relax. Helped me shake off the nerves. And no matter how Sean reacts to the news in there, I know Jeremy will be there to support me.

The club is open regardless of the early hour of the evening, and the bouncer is quick to let me in. The bar opens at four for the early patrons who just want a casual drink on their way home from work.

Making my way over to the bartender, I practice what I am going to say to Sean.

“What can I get for your darling?” Asks the curly red haired bartender. He’s cute in a boyish way.

“Actually, I was looking for Sean?” He raises a brow at my question.

“He expecting you?”

I shake my head. “No, but I just need a few minutes with him.”

He knocks on the bar top twice. “Let me see if he’s available.” He turns to walk away, then stops and turns back. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, it’s Tara.” He nods and makes his way over to another bouncer standing vigil at the bottom of the stairs.

I wonder if Sean remembers me. By the setup he had at the hotel, I’m guessing one night stands aren’t uncommon for him. Then again, we had more than one night. I wouldn’t say we had a connection. We definitely had chemistry though. If he’s up for raising our baby together, I wouldn’t turn down a physical relationship as well. At least through the pregnancy. The damn hormones have my libido on overdrive, and toys are just not cutting it.

My sex drive isn’t the only thing these hormones are messing with. It’s also wreaking havoc on my appetite. One minute I’m leaning over the toilet, the next I’m ready to go butcher a cow. Worse, are the cravings. I’ve never been a big pickle fan, but this baby loves them. Wants them. All the freaking time. And not just one kind. No it’s different almost every day. Bread and Butter, Hamburger, Dill, Sliced, Spears, and yes there appears to be a difference to the baby. Today's choice is zesty. I crushed an entire jar before coming here, and now it seems baby wants more. I hope I have another jar at home.

A throat clears beside me. I can’t help but jump. “Sorry.” Says the boyish bartender with a smirk. “Boss says he’ll see you.” He gives a nod to the stairs then continues down the bar to a waiting customer.

Here goes nothing.

I climb the stairs slowly. It seems ominous to be doing so in a club without the strobe lights going, and the loud music blaring. The sound system is playing some local radio station rather than a live DJ mixing beats like they do during club hours.

The stairs end and open up to a large balcony that overlooks the lower level of the club. A bar sits along one side. Tables are scatter around the center and edge closest to the railing, while a cluster of booths line the far wall. There is another set of stairs up to another level beside me, along with a hallway that appears to lead to the restrooms, or maybe a stock or break room.

There are only four people on this level. A blonde male bartender pouring a beer, a burly man in a suit standing beside a booth where Sean sits with a busty blonde on his lap.

My steps falter for a moment. In all the scenarios I imagined meeting him again and having this conversation, not a one had him entertaining another woman while we did.

Great. This was already going to be awkward. What if she’s his girlfriend? Should I still go through with this? I could just turn around, walk away. He never needs to know.

No. I can’t do that. It’s his right to know. I at least need to give him the chance to be the father our baby deserves.

As I approach the booth, I see the girl smirk at me before she proceeds to start kissing up his neck. He does nothing to stop her.

Gross.

Was he this much of a pig the night we met?

I didn’t think so. I know I had a few drinks, but I didn’t think I was drunk.

He had seemed like a gentleman while we talked at the club. When he introduced himself as the owner of Eclipse, I hadn’t believed him. Not until he took me and my friends up to the VIP level and I heard the bartender call him boss. That day he had worn a tailored black suit with black button up, similar to today’s outfit, except he’s missing the jacket he had last time.

His green eyes had never lingered on my breasts. His calloused hands never wandered. And when we danced, he led me around and didn’t just stand behind me grinding against my ass.

It wasn’t until we got to the hotel and started stripping off our clothes that he turned into a wild animal. Even then, he was still respectful. Always checking in with me to make sure he didn’t go too far. He hadn’t. And I had enjoyed every dirty minute.

The man he’s presenting himself as now, is a pig. Is this really the man I might have to share my child with? Will I have to spend eighteen years having him bring an endless string of lady friends around our child?

Hell no.

I will nip that shit in the ass right away.

“I don’t do repeats.” Sean says coldly once I get close to him.

I can’t help but to laugh, and it’s not with humor.

Okay, not the greeting I was expecting. “Hi Sean. Nice to see you again too.” I reply, not stooping to his level.

“What are you doing here Tara?” He asks with a little less bite. Only a little less.

“Can we speak in private?”

He doesn’t even take a moment to consider it. “No.”

“Please. It will just take a moment.” I say, trying again. I really don’t want to discuss my pregnancy with bimbo Barbie grinding on his lap.

He doesn’t reply. Just tilts his head a bit as though encouraging me to speak. It’s not encouraging. But if he wants to air our dirty laundry in the opening, why not?

So I just blurt it out. No finesse. “I’m pregnant.”

The man in the suit standing nearby whips his head at me. Sean freezes for a moment before he unceremoniously dumps the bimbo onto the floor. “What?” He asks. The frost is back in his voice. Or maybe it’s fury. Either way, I don’t appreciate the hostility.

“I said, I’m pregnant. In case it wasn’t obvious why I’m telling you. It’s yours.”

“No, it’s not.” He says with venom. He takes a few steps closer to me.

I straighten my spine, making sure my shoulders are back, my head held high, “Yes it is. There is no chance it is anyone else’s.”

“Wow, Tara.” His hand running through his already disheveled hair. The same dark hair I had loved running my fingers through when we were together. “I thought you were different. Thought you were better than the others.”

I’m confused. “What others?”

Ignoring my question, Sean gives a nod to the man in the suit. The guy nods back before walking away and heading up the stairs.

Strange.

“You can’t be pregnant.”

Now, I’m the one running my hands through my hair in frustration. “The twelve week old fetus in my uterus says differently. Do the math. I had the blood test with the doctor to prove it.”

Sean looks like he really is doing the math while he looks off into the distance. Then he shakes his head. “No, you can’t be pregnant. We used a condom. Every. Time. If there really is a kid, it ain't mine.”

My jaw drops at the look of disgust on his face. “You don't need to be a dick.”

That gets his attention and not in a good way. “Listen lady, I always wear a glove. There's no way that kid is mine.”

“You do know that condoms are only effective ninety-eight percent of the time, don’t you?”

This time it’s his jaw that drops. “What? No, they aren't.” He says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah they are. Even says so on the label.”

“Who the hell reads the whole label? You find the brand, the size, choose lubricated or flavored and move on.”

“A pregnant lady who managed to get pregnant while always using a condom, that’s who reads the label.” I reply sarcastically. “If that surprises you, I can do one better. Search condom effectiveness on-line. Research says the effectiveness is actually closer to eighty-seven percent.”

He’s silent for an entire minute. Then he whispers. “No.” His voice raises a bit. “No, I don't believe it. It's not mine. You're just after money.”

“What?” Did he really just bring up money? Like compensation?

“How much?” He asks as the suit guy re-appears with a stack of papers and a thick envelope.

“What?” I’m still not understanding what he is asking.

“How much do you want to go away?” He’s no longer looking at me, he’s taken the envelope from suit guy and is thumbing through the dollar bills inside it. They look like all hundreds. What they hell is he doing with that much cash lying around? “Ten thousand?”

“You're shitting me right?” Is he really offering me money to go away? Does he think I came here to blackmail or extort him?

“No.” He says sharply.

“I'm really pregnant. And I’m one hundred percent confident it’s yours.” I say, trying to get through to him that this isn’t a joke. “Unless I somehow managed to have an immaculate conception. You're the only one I've been with since my ex-boyfriend a year ago. So it can't be his.”

To further prove my point, I unzip my purse and pull out a copy of the sonogram. I hold it up so he can see our baby. See the proof.

Sean grabs it from my hands and slams it down on the table beside him, not even bothering to look at it. “Look, Tara, you aren't the first to try and fake a pregnancy in an attempt to get a ring from me. It ain't going to happen.”

I feel my eyebrows shoot up to my hairline. “I don't want a ring!” The fucking audacity of this man. “There is no way in hell I would marry you. I don't even know you.”

He looks slightly taken aback at my outburst. Not sure why? Did he expect me to fall to his feet at the mention of a ring?

“Then it's money you want.” He motions for suit guy to come closer again. He does and they do that silent communication thing again. Without a word, he pulls out a couple piles of strapped bills from his inner jacket pocket. Sean takes them from him and tosses them at me.

Literally tosses. I don’t even attempt to catch them. They bounce off my chest and fall to the floor.

If flames could shoot out of my eyes, this asshole would have been incinerated to dust. Worse than dust, I would burn this whole fucking building down.

How fucking dare he insinuate that I’m using my pregnancy to extort money out of him.

My words are clipped and spiked with rage. “I. Don't. Want. Your. Fucking. Money.” I give the money a kick towards him for good measure. “I don't want a damn thing from you. I came here to tell you that you are going to be a father and give you the chance to be a part of their life.” I grab the sonogram off the table and push it into his chest.

He still doesn’t attempt to look at it.

“It's yours. I'm keeping it. I came here to tell you as a courtesy. Neither of us need anything from you. So take your money and go to fucking hell.”

Turning, I start walking away. I go down the stairs as fast as I can without running. I want to throw something. Or punch someone. Instead of doing either, I seethe in silence while I stomp across the club floor.

I’m nearly halfway to the door before a hand wraps around my arm and begins to drag me towards a hallway. “Let. Go.” I shriek as I fight to get the man’s hands off of me. He stops and raises his hands in the universal signal of surrender.

“I apologize. I need you to come with me.” It’s suit guy.

“No.” I say as I turn to walk away again.

I’m stopped by a wall of human flesh. The damn bouncer from the front door. He’s giving me an expectant look.

“Fine.” I grumble.

Suit guy leads me down a back hallway and out into the alley. Once the door closes, he attempts to push the stacks of money into my hands again.

I stumble backwards to avoid touching it. “I told him I don't want his fucking money.”

He sighs deeply. Clearly as frustrated as I am with the situation. “Then what do you want?”

“Nothing.” I say in defeat. “I literally want nothing from Sean. From any of you.” I pause to take a steadying breath so I don’t cry from frustration. I’m not usually a crier. I blame the hormones. “I was doing the decent thing. The right thing, by letting the father of my baby know he had a child on the way.”

“Sean says it's not his.” Replies suit guy. As though that should be the end of the argument.

“So…” I begin. “Sean also claimed he didn't like my finger up his ass when I blew him in the shower, but he moaned real loud when that pushed him over the edge and told me to do it again the next time I was on my knees for him.”

Suit guy stutters and coughs at my announcement. His jaw open and his eyes pleading for me to tell him I was joking. I wasn’t. “Jesus,” he finally says. “I did not need that visual.” I shrug. Not my problem he didn’t like my reply. “Fine. Say you are telling the truth.”

“I am.”

“Then I need you to sign this.” He says as he pulls out a packet of papers from his jacket pocket.

“What is it?” I ask as I begin to scan the page.

“An NDA.” A Nondisclosure Agreement. It says I am never to speak about the identity of my child’s father or our time together. I flip the page. It’s a second legal document. A contract waiving all rights to a paternity test and child support in the future.

“Wow.” Apparently he must be accused of fathering children a lot if he has pre-filled out forms. What the fuck was I thinking sleeping with a man like Sean? Then another thought hits me. “How many possible siblings does my kid have?”

“What?” Suit guy asks.

“How many of those previous woman who claimed Sean got them pregnant were actually pregnant?” I ask. Then before he can answer, I ask the other question that has been bothering me. “And what’s your name? I keep calling you ‘suit guy’ in my head and it’s irritating.”

“What?” He questions. Clearly he’s not used to the other women asking questions. They must just grab the money and go. Gross. Do they have no shame? And how many were really pregnant? Those poor kids. Stuck growing up with narcissistic gold diggers as mothers, or worse, maybe those mothers gave them up. Let them go into the system where they have no parent, no family.

My heart breaks just thinking of the number of potential half-siblings my child may have out there in the foster care system.

I go for repeating the easy question first. “Name?”

“Ugh, Callum.” He answers slowly.

“Great, nice to meet you Callum.” I say and offer my hand for him to shake. He does. His eyebrows furrowed. “You say that other women have come to Sean to tell him they are pregnant, and they have left once they received a hefty pay-out, is that correct?”

He’s still eyeing me nervously, but I think he’s finally understanding where I am going with my line of questions. “Yes.”

“How many women?”

“I never counted.” He admits.

“Give me a ballpark number.” I push.

“Fifteen maybe.”

“Fuck me.” I huff under my breath. “No. Never mind. Fucking is what got me here.” That brings a little smile to Callum’s lips. “So, of the fifteen, how many were actually pregnant?”

“No idea.” He answers quickly.

“Sean never checked up on them?”

“No. Why would he?”

“Because they could be his children!” I shout back in astonishment. “Even if he didn’t want to be in their life, why the fuck wouldn’t he want confirmation? Fuck, my kid could have fifteen half-siblings out there. And that’s just the ones that came forward.”

“What?” Callum says again. I’m really getting sick of that word.

“I mean, if they all took money and signed these forms, who’s to say they weren't legit pregnant with his kid?” Callum looks dumb founded. “Guess you never considered it. If I were Sean, I'd look into it. Contracts or not, if it were me, I'd want to know how many kids I’ve sired that are running around the city.” I retort while digging a pen out of my purse. “Any who, do you have a second copy of these?”

He takes a moment to snap out of his stupor. “Ugh, yeah. Sure.” He says as he calls on his radio for another copy.

A minute later, the door to the club opens and another man in a suit hands over another stack of cash and another copy of the documents. Before he leaves I call out to stop him. I wave him over, not bothering with niceties. I’m pissed and I want to leave. I need to get back to Jeremy, and home to my jar of pickles. I draw two witness boxes on my copy. I give the pen to Callum to sign and date in one box. Then turn to the second man and have him do the same. Only after both of their signatures are on them, do I grab the second set of documents and begin writing on them.

Once done, I snap pictures of both completed documents before handing the second set back to Callum, and stuff the first set, the one with the witness signatures at the bottom into my bag. I then ignore the stack of cash Callum holds out for me. I can’t help but to scoff at it. Even if I was desperate, I wouldn’t take Sean’s hush money. Fuck him.

As the men turn to head back inside I call out. “Bye Callum. Tell Sean to have a good life. I'll be sure his kid does.”