5 Bikers for Valentines

Maybe, that was why he'd asked to slow things down if we weren't pregnant. If that was the case, what in the hell was I going to do then? I couldn't force him to raise the child – not if he didn't want to raise it. If he didn't want to take the baby after it was born, there was nothing I could do about it.

The other side of that coin was that I wasn't capable of raising it on my own. There was no way I could do it, not with so many responsibilities already heaped on my plate. The idea of an abortion, one of the only other realistic options I could consider, made me cry even harder.

I couldn't explain it, but as soon as I'd found out there was a life inside of me, I loved that baby. My heart swelled when I thought about it and I wanted the best for the baby. I also knew that unless Malcolm went through with the plan, and did as he said he'd do, I was not going to be able to raise a child on my own. Which was problematic in so many ways.

More than that though, I wanted to know what sort of life could I expect for my child, even if Malcolm did end up wanting him or her? Would he be a good father? Or would he be an absentee father? Would he actually raise a child, or let nannies do it for him?

So many questions, and all of them without an answer. All I knew was there was no way I'd get an answer over the phone. I needed to see him in person. I needed to ask him these questions face to face and see what kind of answers he had for me.

As I thought about it, and the questions swirled around my head, a dark, ominous feeling washed over me. What if he wasn't going to let me in? If he refused to see me, what could I do?

Then an idea hit me. Hard. It probably wasn't the best idea I'd ever had, but it was, at least, a way in. A family dinner. Just like the one Adam had invited me to before. It might piss off Malcolm, but I saw no way around it. If he wasn't going to return my texts and wasn't going to see me, what else could I do?

I grabbed hold of my purse and dropped it in my lap, digging around until I found the card Adam had given me at their office. His cell phone number was listed on it, and before I could give it any more thought – which would more than likely result in me stopping myself from going on with this foolish plan – I'd already texted him.

Adam, it's Casey. Does the offer still stand to meet the family?

I bit my nail, my stomach churning – and not because of the pregnancy – as I waited for a response. His answer came within two seconds, flat.

Of course, Casey. I'll pick you up at six. Just send me your address.

Just like that, I was in. I'd be joining the Cranes – Malcolm included – for dinner. He wouldn't be able to turn me away then, right? Nor would he be able to duck my questions. It was going to be tense and awkward, but it was unfortunately, necessary. It wasn't about me and my needs, or even about Malcolm and his needs. Not anymore.

~ooo000ooo~

Adam was at my door about fifteen minutes earlier than I'd expected. I was having second thoughts and had been seriously contemplating canceling the entire thing, but I still had no word back from Malcolm, and I couldn't handle the stress of waiting another day to see if he'd finally get back to me. We needed to talk, and he was being evasive.

He seemed to be too busy for me these days, and I was sick of sitting around and waiting for him to make time for me. Especially since I had something very important to tell him and needed to figure out what the next steps were going to be.

“Just have to throw on some shoes,” I said. “Feel free to come inside.”

I dug through Raya's shoe pile until I found a cute pair of kitten heels, which went perfectly with the strapless floral dress I'd borrowed from her as well. Having friends with money came with some added benefits sometimes – like being able to find nice clothes when you need to be presentable.

“No rush. Take your time,” Adam said, as he walked around the tiny studio, looking at everything. “Cute place you have here.”

“Thanks,” I said.

I didn't feel the need to explain that it wasn't actually my place. We weren't that close. Besides, if he thought I lived in WeHo, it might make him respect me a little bit more. Or at least, not look down on me as much. WeHo was the hip, bougie place to be these days.

I turned and saw him holding Raya's bong. He held it up and sniffed it before giving me a mischievous look.

“That's not mine,” I mumbled.

Though now, as I actually looked around the place, I noticed there were several bongs on shelves, along with other pot smoking paraphernalia. Damn, Raya. I knew she liked to smoke a joint now and then, but did she really need this much crap?

“Hey, it's legal now. Who am I to judge what a girl does in her own home?” he said, putting the funky blue bong back down on the coffee table with a laugh.

“No, but seriously, it's not mine. I don't do that, legal or not,” I muttered. “Nothing against it, it's just not my thing.”

“Sure, okay,” Adam said with a shrug. “I really don't give a shit if you smoke pot or not. We all have our secrets and vices. Even my brother.”

My ears perked up at the mention of Malcolm. As if he could read my mind, Adam chuckled and shook

his head a bit. He looked up at me and seemed to be relishing the fact that he knew something I didn't. Or maybe, it was the fact that he could potentially destroy the image of Malcolm I carried around in my head with what he knew.

Either way, it was kind of greasy, and kind of a dick move. It made me like him even less than I already did. But, he was a means to an end, so I needed to play nice. For now, at least.

“You really don't know Malcolm that well, do you?” he asked.