A Chance Encounter

“I’ll never be that guy,” Easton says, stopping what he’s doing. “No matter what happens, I will always be a father to our baby and make sure you’re taken care of.”

I nod, knowing he’s telling the truth. I can feel it in my bones that Easton is nothing like Freeman and my dad.

“What’s your favorite color?” I ask, switching gears.

“Definitely not pink,” he says dryly, lifting the tiny screwdriver. “What’s the next step?”

I read it to him, and he follows what I say. “What’s your favorite food?”

He glances up at me with a wolfish grin. “You.”

“Oh my God, stop!” I smack him with the pamphlet. “You only ate me out once. How do you even remember what I taste like?” My face heats up the second I realize what I just blurted out.

Kill. Me. Now.

Easton’s grin widens. “Trust me, it would be damn near impossible to forget what your sweet pussy tastes like. But don’t worry, I plan to taste you again, and soon, just to make sure my memory serves me right.” He lifts the vanity up. “All done.”

Jesus, how does he say shit like that without being affected at all? Meanwhile, my body is thrumming in anticipation, remembering the last time he went down on me and looking forward to the next time.

I clear my throat. “It looks great.” I grab it, along with the stool, and set it over by the tree, then hand him the next box.

While he’s opening it, I ask, “So, seriously, what’s your favorite food?”

“Hmmm… I guess bacon.”

“Bacon? Really?” I love me some bacon, but I’m also pregnant.

“Yeah. Add bacon to anything and it makes it better. A burger, chicken sandwich, mac n cheese. All good, but add bacon and bam! It’s delicious.”

“Mmm… I can totally see that.”

He hands me the new set of directions and I read off the first step.

“What’s your favorite food?” he asks.

“Being pregnant, my cravings change on the regular. But right now, it’s anything chocolate… Donuts, ice cream, candy bars.”

“How about chocolate covered bacon?” he jokes.

“That actually sounds freaking delicious,” I admit, making him laugh.

“What’s your longest relationship?” he asks, after I read him the next step.

Shit, this is not a conversation I want to have. I was over here talking about favorite foods and colors and he, of course, has to go and delve deeper. I think for a second. Does Freeman even count as a relationship when he was cheating on his fiancée? No, it doesn’t. Which means the only relationship I’ve ever been in was with my seventh-grade boyfriend, Jonathon Duran, for like three weeks. Jesus, my love life has sucked. “Eh, not long,” I say vaguely. “You?” I ask, quickly diverting the attention back to him.

“A little over five years.”

“Wow! How old were you?” That’s a pretty long relationship.

“We started dating when we were seventeen. She was by my side when I released my first album and it blew up. We graduated high school and she took classes online while touring with me. The day she graduated from college I proposed. Six months later, I ended our engagement.”

“What happened?”

His eyes leave the Barbie mansion he’s putting together and meet mine. “She was keeping secrets, hiding shit. And instead of being honest, she lied about it all.”

I swallow down my guilt over my own secrets and lies. This would be a good time to tell him, but I can’t do it. I can’t risk it. Ever. My secret is one I have to take to my grave because once it’s out, it can never be taken back. And I can’t ever chance losing my daughter. It’s my job to protect her. And I will do that until the day I die.

“I gave her so many chances,” he adds, “but she couldn’t do it… Couldn’t be honest. And in turn, she lost my trust. We went our separate ways, and she now works for a competing record label.”

“The song ‘Lies’…” The lyrics run through my head. They’re about his ex.

“Yeah,” he says, “I wrote it after we broke up.”

“But it’s a new song.”

“The album Lost is new because I sat on it all for a while. I needed time to get past her betrayal to be able to sing those songs… To be able to have them out there for everyone to hear.”

“Do you write all of your songs?”

“Yeah. Some I write and then they get tweaked to appeal to my audience, and others they approve of without changing anything, but all my songs come from me.”

“That’s pretty cool. I’m going to have to listen to your songs now so I can learn all about you.”

He chuckles and pulls me down into his lap. “You’re more than welcome to listen to any of my songs, but you don’t need them to learn about me. You have me right here and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. I’m an open book.” He kisses my lips softly, and I close my eyes, hating that no matter what I tell him, what I share with him, I’ll always have at least one secret I have to keep from him.