Fake Marrying Her Dad's Best Friend Page 10

  Jeff looks a little green, which is how I know that what I'm saying is true.

  "I'm not trying to coerce you into marrying me or being my husband. Someday, I'll get married to someone who loves me. And that day is not today."

  "You're insane if you think that I'd let another man raise my child," he says, his voice a little louder than usual.

  "We can cross that bridge when we get to it," I tell him. "You're certainly welcome to 50% custody, as I said before. The rest we can work out."

  He jumps to his feet. "Elia, I will fight you in court for primary custody."

  My heart sinks. "What?"

  "I mean it," he says. "And you won't be able to stop me. You're a teenager. If you go to college, the baby would be better of with me anyway."

  "You have to hire nannies!" I sputter. "That's how I ended up at your house anyway!"

  "Fuck it," Jeff says. "My house is probably a better place for a newborn baby than yours would be. Have you told your father yet?"

  I shake my head. "He's going to ask about the details. I'm not really ready to..."

  "We'll tell him together," Jeff says, cutting me off. "I should take responsibility for this."

  "He's going to beat you," I tell him.

  "He can try." Jeff rubs his forehead. "I did defile his daughter."

  "Defile," I snort. "With my consent. I'd had a crush on you for years. Maybe he was pushing us together by forcing me to live with you while he was out of the country."

  "You think so?" Jeff says. "Marjorie wanted me to leave you alone."

  I shrug. "It's kind of moot now, if we're getting married."

  I can see the tension disappear from his body. "So you're saying yes?"

  "I'm saying that I'll go along with your plan for now."

  His mouth falls on mine. He's ravenous, plundering my mouth. My knees are weak as his arms wrap around me, hard as steel bands. I can't breathe but it's glorious and I don't need to.

  When the kiss ends, we're both gasping for breath. His arms are still around me. He puts his forehead to mine.

  "I swear you won't regret this."

  Chapter 34

  Telling My Dad

  Elia

  ONE DAY LATER

  "You what?" My father has jumped to his feet.

  "She's pregnant," Jeff says, drinking a little more wine.

  "You asshole," my dad hisses.

  I'm worried that a fist fight is about to start, but Jeff doesn't look like he's expecting it. Dad yanks him out of his chair and shoves his face into his best friend's face. "How dare you?"

  "You're the one who wanted her to live with me," he says.

  "I thought she'd be safe with you," my dad says.

  "She was. She is. Forever. I promise to protect her."

  "Fucker," my dad spits, although he lets go of Jeff's shirt.

  "When it comes to taking care of me, Dad, you know that Jeff will."

  He rubs his eyes. "I guess I'll have to take that risk," he says. "I'm not happy about this."

  "We're married," I say. "And that's what counts. No shotgun weddings for us."

  My dad barks a short laugh. "I guess that's a plus. What a charlie foxtrot."

  I relax. My dad is accepting this. Not easily, not happily, but he is. And that's what matters tonight. "How is this going to work? She's supposed to start a new semester soon."

  "A semester is only four months. She'll still be pregnant at the end of it." "You mean that she's still going to her first semester of school? Pregnant?"

  "It's what she wants," Jeff says.

  "I'm going to commute," I explain. "It's a little too far for me to drive every day, but I'm spending Friday, Saturday, and Sunday at home. I'll schedule classes so that they're only four days a week. It's only for a semester. We can handle it."

  "I sure hope so," my dad says. "But that's up to you two now."

  My dad capitulated suspiciously quickly. I won't look a gift horse in the mouth, though.

  The three of us finish our dinner. I leave and go take care of Danny, making sure that he's warm and happy as he sleeps the pure sleep of the innocent.

  Chapter 35

  Boxing

  Jeff

  "So, you knocked up my little girl, huh?"

  I wince a little. "Yeah, I did. I'm not proud of it, but I'm proud that we're getting married." "You're moving awfully fast," he says. "But when you know, you know. That's how it was when I met my own wife." He pats his breast pocket for a packet of cigarettes that aren't there. "Damn anti-smoking campaigns," he grumbles, like he always does. When we were in the military, everyone smoked. Most of us kicked the habit as soon as we got home, given the environment for smokers.

  "I know," I tell him. "And I promise that I'll take care of her."

  "You better," he grunts. "I can still kick your ass."

  "I'd like to see you try." I work out just as much if not more than he does. We haven't sparred in a long time. The two of us spend so much time together that maybe duking it out would help.

  "Wanna go to the boxing gym?" he asks, his eyes lighting up. We used to be regulars at a gym that's only a mile away from our homes.

  "Yeah," I say. We've always been equally matched. He doesn't know about the mini-gym I have in my basement. I am still working out almost as much as I used to when it was part of our job.

  "How about tomorrow night?"

  "Yeah," I tell him. "I'll be there."

  "I'm done," I say, tapping the mat. We got rid of the boxing gloves an hour ago and began wrestling. He's heavier than I am, and he's winning. He gets off of me and rolls on his back. Both of us are breathing hard.

  "That was good," he says. "We should do it more often."

  "I'm too old for this shit," I say. "I need an ice pack."

  "Fuck, when did you turn into a pussy?" He nudges my shoulder.

  I sit up. "Bring it, old man."

  "We're the same age," he says, sitting up. He winces as he pushes himself to his feet and rises slowly. "I need water." He climbs over the ropes of the boxing ring and heads for the water fountain. There's nobody else in here, not late at night like this. It's a 24-hour gym. We worked late, told Elia that we'd be at the gym, and have been duking it out since we changed.

  I feel really good, sort of light and free. Any ass-beating my best friend wanted to do has been done. Chicks would talk this out. We're okay with each other now.

  "Water?" he offers.

  I look into the cup. It's just a sip of water, but I drink it anyway. I get out of the ring and head for the showers. We wash off with the gym's all-in-one shampoo and soap before getting dressed in our work clothes and heading home.

  When we park in our driveways, we wave before going inside. I wonder how it feels for him, being 40 and coming home to an empty house. He fell in love, got married, and had a kid. I've done all of those things, but I somehow get to come home to two people who love me and there's nobody there for him.

  I'm not giving Elia back. Not now, not ever. And soon, we'll have a new addition to the family. But I wonder if I should try to set him up with a lady. When Elia was a little kid, he dated a little, but Elia would scream her lungs out whenever she was introduced to a lady friend. By the time Elia was 8, he'd given up. Elia wanted to be the center of attention at home, which meant that no lady could ever become her stepmother.

  At least Danny wasn't old enough to think about whether or not he wanted a stepmother. His desires were uncomplicated. He just wanted to eat, sleep, and poop so much that I was considering investing in some kind of diaper company. Danny was definitely bringing them a lot of profit.

  I snorted. How would I talk to my investment counselor? "Hey, my baby poops so much that diaper companies must be making out like bandits." I shake my head. I fight the urge to review the SEC filings from various consumer product companies and instead think about the baby. We’ll set up a trust fund for him or her. I’ll listen to my lawyer this time. I learn from my mistakes.

  Epilogue: Mot
her’s Day

  Jeff

  THREE YEARS LATER

  “Quiet,” I tell my two kids. “Mommy’s still sleeping.” Danny can barely contain himself. He’s stifling his laughter with two hands over his mouth. My placid little girl Myrla is holding onto my leg. I have a tray with orange juice and fresh waffles on it. When we got married, we received no less than 5 waffle makers. There must’ve been a sale.

  When we get into my bedroom, I settle the tray next to the bed. The kids climb into bed. They aren’t allowed in it, but these are special circumstances. When I’ve helped Myrla up, since she’s much smaller than Danny, I go to the window and open the curtains.

  Blazing sunlight fills the room. Elia shrieks a little bit before turning over and burying her face in a pillow.

  “Turn it off!” she mumbles.

  “I can’t turn off the sun, sweetheart. And your kids want to wish you a happy Mother’s Day.”

  She turns over and notices our two kids for the first time.

  “Oh, that’s very sweet,” she says, kissing one and the other. She turns to the nightstand.

  “Waffles and orange juice? You spoil me.”

  “I made the waffles!” Danny claims. I smile. He helped mix the batter.

  “Wow!” Elia says. She ruffles his hair lightly. “Amazing.”

  Myrla has her thumb in her mouth, but she takes it out to ask, “Like it?”

  “Yes, I like it, Myrla.”

  I wish I could put a picture frame around this moment and immortalize it forever. In this bed, the most important people in the world are gathered in one spot. And I move in to kiss Elia on the forehead, I know that nothing could ever compare to this.

  From the Author

  I love writing about hot guys and the women who love them. I’m always working on new and naughty books. There are so many sexy men to write about! If you’d like to be notified of free and discounted new releases, sign up HERE and get a free steamy story sent to you.

  For more books, check find Alyse online:

  www.amazon.com/Alyse-Zaftig/e/B00VF6YSGU/

  alysezaftig@gmail.com