Happily Ever After With My Dad's Best Friend

“I should go in.” I don’t mean the words, and kissing him in front of my house is dangerous and exciting. It would only take my dad or Jean one glance outside, and we’d be discovered. Glancing at the window, I try to remember if that light was on when we first pulled up…

We kiss again, and keep at it until my lips feel swollen and it’s hard to think about anything but the desire to go home with Beck and sleep in his bed.

“If you kiss me like that again, you’ll never get inside,” he groans. “For now, though, you should probably get your amazing ass to bed. We both have to be to work tomorrow for the Friday morning meeting, and if I don’t let you go now, we’re going to end up late to work because we stay up fucking all night. I really am jet-lagged, too,” he admits.

I open my door and stumble out. “Text me when you get home?” It sounds needy, but I want to make sure he gets home safely.

Beck smiles and blows me a kiss. “Anything you want. See you in the morning, Lia.”

I make it across the yard and into the house, glad that my dad and Jean are in the den in the back of the house instead of the living room up front. Both are wrapped up in a television show and eating popcorn, not noticing me. My stomach churns at the smell, and my mouth salivates as I try to squeak out the words that I’m home. I run through the house to the bathroom, and I fall to my knees as the appetizers I’d nibbled on at the gallery all come rushing up.

Sweat beads up on my face as I heave, and I flush the toilet before crawling to the sink. I’m glad I keep the bathrooms clean as part of my chores. I don’t even bother standing up as I reach for a paper cup of water and grab a hand towel from the stack beneath the sink. The dizziness I felt earlier has gotten worse with my vomiting. Panic sets in as my stomach protests even the smallest sip of water. Everything tastes like the awful smell of microwave popcorn.

The signs add up, and I try not to think of what they could mean. It was seven weeks since my last period. Pills are not one hundred percent effective, I know. Panicking, I quickly wash my face and then slip into the kitchen. I leave Dad and Jean a note that I am running out for just a few minutes, grab Dad’s keys, and take his car.

The pharmacy is two miles away, and I’m in a fog as I stumble up and down the aisles until I find what I’m looking for. I head for the bathroom as soon as the cashier hands me my receipt. I can’t wait to get home. I need to know now. Dizzy and emotionally exhausted, I can hardly focus on the test, fumbling with the cap as I open it.

I follow the instructions and continue to sit there on the toilet as the test strip color blooms into view. First one line in the control box to let me know it’s working, almost cranberry in the overhead light. Then, even as I’m praying to be wrong, a second line darkens.

I’m pregnant.

If my stomach weren’t empty already, I would probably throw up again.

My hands shake as the panic sets in. How can I go to work and see Beck again, knowing I’m pregnant? I told him I was on the pill. He trusted me. He’ll think I did this on purpose. He’ll hate me.

I barely make it to my desk on time, and I can see by the lights on that Beck is already at work. Sleep eluded me except for a few fitful hours, and I don’t know how to act around him today. Do I tell him? Do I keep it secret for now and figure out what to do? I just don’t know. There are so many things to worry about. I couldn’t take care of a gallery on my own; how will I take care of myself and a baby?

Jess, one of the kitchen staff, wheels a cart out of Beck’s office. “Good morning, lovely Lia. I hear your show was amazing.” He doesn’t wait for a response before going to the other side of the lobby where a few chairs and a couch are mostly there for effect. In my five weeks here, we have yet to have anyone but me sit on them. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Boss man has some meetings up here this morning and wants me to have a full coffee bar setup out here.

“There are already pastries and stuff on the table in back. I’m sure he won’t mind if you help yourself to a couple.”

Hearing that I’ve arrived, Beck calls me from his office. “Morning, Lia. Can you come join me in here?” He sounds way too chipper for the morning, like he’s a few pots of coffee into his day already. I hate to ruin that for him.

I drop my bag in my chair, take a deep breath, and walk into his office. Beck is in a black jacket and turquoise button-down, and he has his head turned to the side, looking over at the door to the roof. No… Looking at my art. My image is reflected to me in the mirrors of the piece I made in his garage.

He’s smiling as if he won the lottery. “The gallery delivered it this morning. I had to have it, Lia. I needed this piece of you and me.”

The words pierce my fragile shell, and the tears come rushing out of my eyes. I crumple to the floor in pained tears. He’s going to hate me. Why did he have to say that about wanting a piece of him and me? I have that inside me…

Beck kneels in front of me and gathers me into his arms. “What did I say? Did I do something? What’s wrong?” He’s so worried about me, and I start crying even harder.

“Everything—is—wrong—” I sob out the words. “You’ll hate me, Beck. I’ve ruined everything!

“I hate myself for it. Everything is over. I’m so sorry!” I bury my face in his jacket, crying.

He pushes me back gently, and I can’t bring myself to meet his eyes. His hands with their long fingers cup my cheeks. “Lia, I want you to tell me what happened.” He’s calm, scarily so. “I can’t make things better if you don’t talk to me.” His thumbs move across my cheeks, gently massaging the curve of my cheek bone on each side.

My lashes are matted with tears as I try to look at him. I want one last look in his eyes before I tell him how fucked up I’ve made things. “I’m so sorry, Beck. I’m pregnant. I’m having your baby.”

He freezes, going stiff. I’m sure he’s about to yell, maybe even fire me. He’ll panic the way he did when Tasha broke her arm riding bikes when we were little. He’ll—

Beck’s arms sweep me into a hug, and his nose rubs the side of my face as he nuzzles me into position to accept his kiss. Dazed, I let him kiss me deeply, hanging onto him as I try to calm my tears.

“You’ve ruined nothing.” His lips are gentle this time, kissing away my tears. “Our lives aren’t over; we’re just beginning.” Beck moves a hand down to my stomach and rests it there. “To be a little crass, I thought your breasts looked bigger last night,” he teases.

We both hear the door lock unlatch and separate quickly. I wipe at the lingering tears as someone knocks on the doorframe to the office. Jean busts in, almost catching us in our embrace. “What’s going on?” she says suspiciously, looking between us. Her mouth is puckered as if she just bit into a lemon.

I stand up and go over by my sculpture, using it as an excuse to try and catch my breath. I examine how it was hung as Beck coldly asks Jean what she needs. He’s angry that she trailed after Jess into the office instead of following protocol and waiting to be buzzed in. “You know better!” he snaps.

“I just needed these signed. The company party is next weekend, and we need this taken care of before then.” Apparently, the division head of Research and Development is being honored for his contributions. “I really didn’t think it would be a big deal. I couldn’t see Lia at her desk from the door, and I didn’t want to make you have to get up. Sorry, Beck.”

Jean is wary as she watches me; I can see her in the mirror’s reflection. I hate the way she’s leaning over his desk as her eyes are searching for any reaction on my part. I deny her the satisfaction.

I busy myself with the sculpture until she leaves and we hear Jess’s cart go out the door too. Sighing, I sit down on the edge of the desk. I cover my face with my hands and groan out my frustration. “That was just a taste of what we’re going to go through, Beck. How can we go through this?” All my worries come spilling out. “How can I tell my parents that I’m pregnant? How can I tell Tasha that I’m having your baby?”

His arms go around me, and he pulls me down into his lap. “Shh.” Beck kisses the side of my head and lightly swings us side to side in the chair. “We’ll figure it out, love. Don’t stress too hard.” His hand slides down my back, drawing me even closer to him, and then moves to my stomach, rubbing my belly. “You’ve got a baby in you now—my baby. We can’t have you making yourself sick with worry. Let’s take things one day at a time, Lia.”