When I wake, it’s to Delilah’s soft voice, her hands whipping around wildly as she is having a heated discussion with someone, but trying not to wake me. I rub my eyes and blink up at her. I look around to see that it’s a brooding Nick, standing by the end of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, bearing the brunt of her fury. Parker is sitting in a red velvet wingback chair in the corner, his elbows on his knees, hands covering his face, rubbing his forehead up and down. Guess I’m not the only one with a headache. Yolanda is nowhere to been seen.

  “Where did Yolanda go?” I ask, still a bit drowsy from sleeping.

  “She left a little bit ago. We’re the only ones left,” Delilah says from her seat on the bed next to me. She reaches over tentatively to touch my belly and I instinctively nod, giving her permission. I think she is doing it to relax us both. And remind me of what’s really important here.

  “We’re gonna take you home,” Nick says.

  “What? No way, it’s your wedding night, you’re supposed to go home and hump like bunnies,” I mutter, pushing myself up into a sitting position.

  Delilah giggles while Nick lets out a snort. I can’t figure out what just happened until Delilah leans over and picks up my dress a little.

  “Your big ass pregnant boob just popped out, flashing my husband. Get your shit together, lady,” LaLa tell me with a huge smile on her face.

  “Whoops! Sorry!” I laugh, shrug, and then lift the top of my dress higher. “Anyway, I can get myself home just fine.”

  “This is not up for debate, so don’t bother,” Nick says sternly, sending me a pointed look.

  I growl. Dammit. He never backs down when he gives that look. Fucking lawyers.

  Parker finally stands to join the conversation. He walks over to Nick and clasps him on the shoulder. “I got it, my man. Take your wife home and get your freak on. I will make sure Charlie makes it home safely.”

  “Are you sure?” Nick asks him, as if I’m not even in the room or have a say in the matter.

  Parker reassures him and they continue their conversation quietly and secretively. I hear a few words here and there, like “acting like an asshole” and “take care of it.” I smile briefly knowing that however shitty my life might be right now, I really do have the best friends a girl could ask for. Between the support they gave me at the parole hearing, and how they are standing behind me today, I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner.

  As their conversations ends, I offer my two cents. “Where’s your dickhead best man?” I grumble as I get out of bed and start collecting my things.

  “I think he’s locked himself away in his office,” Nick snarls. “Don’t you worry; I will have words with him.”

  “Whatever,” I mumble, not caring one way or another.

  I can raise this baby on my own, and I’m going to be a kick ass mom. He wants to be a deadbeat dad? Then that’s his prerogative. Have at it. I don’t fucking need him. I’ll get over the pain in my heart, and I’ll get over him. I will not let him break me. From my lips to god’s ears!

  I really didn’t think not telling him about the rape was a deal breaker, guess I was wrong. It has nothing to do with anything anymore, so it shouldn’t matter. It’s in the past, where it needs to stay. And like I chose to get pregnant by my rapist. Please. Whatever, life goes on. Nobody knows that better than I do.

  Chapter Twelve

  Calvin

  I hate this fucking pussy. Here kitty kitty kitty. Come on, dude, cut a brother some slack, will ya? Here kitty kitty kitty. I wake up early this morning, before the sun comes up. Actually, I’m not sure that I even fell asleep last night. Not talking with Charlotte is absolutely killing me. I get my pathetic self moving and go to the gym so that I can kick the punching bag's ass for a few hours, trying to get out my aggressions. The solitude sucks, but not knowing how Charlotte and the baby are is what's doing me in.

  Normally, I would just shower at the gym then head to the club, but I need to go home to feed my cat. Charlotte's cat. Dammit! I need to feed Horse.

  He still scares the shit out of me. I really think that he does it on purpose. I don’t want him near me, but he is constantly following me around and trying to get me to pet him. He climbs onto my lap when I sit on the couch, and when I’m sleeping, he comes and sleeps between my legs. He makes it impossible not to touch him. I have to touch him if I want him to move.

  Horse finally greets me at the door after I call for him a few more times. He meows and winds himself around my legs as I walk to the kitchen to get him some food. I open a can of the nasty ass cat food that Charlotte feeds him and use a fork to scoop it out into his bowl on the floor. That shit smells disgusting. I hate it. After he digs in, I head for the bathroom where his litter box is. No doubt, it needs to be cleaned out. Fucker craps at least three times a day, and good god, it smells horrendous.

  Sure enough, there are a couple of nice size turds sitting there, uncovered. Aren’t cats supposed to cover their shit? I grab a plastic bag that I keep under the sink for this purpose and the pooper scooper. I then scoop out the clumps of piss and shit. I catch a whiff of the poop and swallow back a gag. I press my forearm to my nose to try to block out the smell for a moment.

  Just as I tie up the bag, I hear a soft meow behind me. Horse rubs against my leg before climbing into the litter box.

  “Dude, seriously, I just cleaned that out,” I grunt. I shake my head when I realize that I’m talking to a damn cat.

  Horse digs around a couple of times before popping a squat and taking a dump. The rancid smell fills the bathroom causing me to wretch, and I run out of the room before I puke. Oh god, I don’t know how much more of this cat I can take. Maybe I can get Little Bit to take the bastard.

  A few minutes later, Horse finds me in the living room and twirls his little black body around my legs. “I don’t know why you like me so much because I hate you,” I mutter, bending over to give his little head a scratch.

  I take a quick shower and head off to work, leaving a couple of treats on the floor for Horse. Spoiled pussy.

  Calvin again…

  Six days, eight hours, twenty-one minutes. That’s how long it’s been since I’ve spoken to Charlotte. Every moment of that time has been agony. Yet, I can’t find it in myself to apologize to her. She lied to me. Should I have said what I said? No. I can’t take it back now, either. I’m still angry that she never told me about her past. Everyone and their mother is pissed off at me right now. Monica barely gave me a head nod and a dirty look when I walked into the club a few days ago. Nick and Parker have been very short with me the few times that they actually answered their phones. And my parents, Jesus Christ, they have done everything in their power to make me feel like the worst son ever. That’s another thing that pisses me off, nobody is even trying to see it from my side of things. If this situation had been reversed, if I had kept something from Charlotte about my past, I have no doubt that she’d feel exactly how I feel right now.

  I have a massive headache that will not go away. I have some dick with nasty ass jailhouse tats on his face trying to push his way past Monica to get into the club. I try to calm him down, but shit, that cat has anger management issues, but left when I threaten to call the cops. Now, I’m sitting behind my desk, rubbing my temples when there is a knock on my door. I call out for them to come in without stopping the rubbing; it seems to be helping the pain in my head. I don’t even bother looking up when the door opens, figuring that it’s just Monica needing to tell me something.

  “Ya know, I’m actually pretty pleased to see you looking like shit,” says Delilah as she shuts the door behind her and takes off her mask.

  My head shoots up and I stare at her for a moment, a million and one things running through my head as to why she could be here. “What’s wrong? Is it Charlotte? Is it the baby?” I blurt out a bit frantically.

  Delilah smiles softly and shakes her head. “That’s exactly the reaction I was hoping to get from you. Everything is fine, I just want to talk to you.”

  I blow out a breath that I didn’t even know I was holding. I nod jerkily and motion for her to sit in the chair in front of my desk. She takes a seat, crossing her jean-clad legs. She looks super cute as always.

  “Why haven’t you called Charlie?” she asks, cutting right to the chase.

  I sigh, rubbing my face roughly in my hands. “I’m still mad at her, Little Bit. I feel like I deserve an apology, too.”

  “I know, but someone has to take the first step, and you know it’s not going to be her,” she snorts.

  I scoff. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “What are you so mad about…exactly?” she asks, tilting her head in curiosity.

  I blink at her. “Seriously? She kept this huge secret from me! I thought we were open and honest with each other about everything. I thought that I knew everything about her!”

  “Does what happened to her change the way you feel about her?”

  “No, of course not,” I reply.

  “What if you hadn’t found out until after the baby was born and you two were married? Would you have said what you said and walked away from her like you did?”

  I open my mouth to answer but immediately snap it shut. I got nothing. Delilah is right. I hang my head. I’m such an asshole. I walked away from the love of my life and my beautiful baby because she didn’t share something about her past. Wow, I’m a complete douchebag.

  “Calvin, you are never going to know everything about the person you’re with, I’m still learning new things about Nick every day. That’s part of the fun of being in a relationship, being surprised to learn something new when you thought there couldn’t possibly be anything else. And Charlie was adamant after the parole hearing to move on with her life, to leave what happened to her in the past. She certainly didn’t want to relive it or let it define her. She wanted that piece of information to have nothing to do with your loving relationship, to corrupt the way you saw or treated her. Ironically, it did just that,” Delilah says gently.

  “She still could have told me,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, she could have, but she chose not to because she didn’t want you to pity her or possibly hold back with her in bed because you’d be afraid of her mental state.”

  I nod, understanding what she is saying because yeah, I probably would have been that guy. I lift my gaze to meet hers. “How is she doing?”

  Delilah shrugs. “She puts up a good front, but I know her better than that, and I can see that she’s heartbroken,” she says.

  “I’m such a fucking asshole.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, finding myself saying that a lot lately.

  “You’re a guy, so no shock there.” She chuckles.

  I sneer at her, making her laugh a little harder. She stands and I follow. I go to her and give her a grateful hug. “Thanks, Little Bit.”

  She pats my face and heads for the door.

  “She’s gonna fight taking you back. I’m sure you know that, but she does love you and want you in her life. So don’t give up, okay?” she says.

  “I won’t,” I assure her. She gives me one last smile before leaving and shutting the door behind her. I go back to my chair and sit down. Damn, I have a lot of groveling to do.

  Still Calvin…

  A few more days go by and I still haven’t found the courage to call Charlotte even though I’m dying to know how she and the baby are doing. It’s now Sunday and I’ve been guilted into going to my parents’ house for the usual Sunday dinner. I really want to skip it because I’m really not in the mood to have my ass handed to me again.

  Just yesterday, I had Nick and Parker show up at my place to ream me out. Not one of the finer points in our over ten-year friendship. I think that had to be the first time that they actually ganged up on me to tell me how much of an asshole I was…and am still being. Like I didn’t already know that. Shit.

  I literally have to force myself to walk into my parents’ house. With shoulders slumped, I trudge into the kitchen where everyone is flitting around. My mother is cooking. My dad is picking at food as it comes out of the oven or off the stove. My grandfather is sitting at the table with Carla. He is reading the newspaper, while she is busy texting on her phone.

  Everyone looks up when I walk in. The look my grandfather gives me is the worst. Complete disgust and disappointment. He just grunts, shakes his head, clucks his tongue, and then looks back down at the paper. My dad is still angry with me and hasn’t spoken to me since the wedding. I believe his words were “My son would never speak to a woman like that.” My mother seems to have a bit more sympathy for me, but she has definitely given me her fair share of jabs over the past couple of weeks. My sister has steered clear of me, also; what her reasoning is, though, I have no idea. My mom told me that Charlotte chewed her out, which makes me seriously happy.

  “I brought pastries from the bakery,” I mumble, holding up the white box by the ribbon it’s wrapped in.

  My mom is the only one who acknowledges me. She gives me a small smile and motions toward the fridge. “You know where to put them.”

  I sigh and put the box in the fridge. The tension is so thick between my father and me that you could cut it with a knife. He purposefully keeps his distance and refuses to look at me. Damn, that shit hurts. My dad has never distanced himself from me like this, ever. And to know that I’ve seriously let him down really fucks with my head. Can we ever get back to the way we were? Or has this damaged our relationship permanently? God, I hope not.

  Dinner is torture. My mom goes on and on about Charlotte and the baby, about the baby shower that Delilah’s planning, about the theme of the nursery that Charlotte chose for the nursery she’s putting together in the spare room of her apartment, and about different names that she is considering. My heart breaks multiple times throughout dinner and I barely eat anything on my plate. A few times, I actually get choked up and have to excuse myself to go to the bathroom to get myself under control. Which is actually where I am now, staring at myself in the mirror. What the fuck am I doing? I should be there with her for all of this! I should be helping her pick out baby names and nursery themes. We should be living in the same fucking place! Goddammit! I gotta get out of here. I have to call her. I have to fix this.

  When I come back to the table, I grab my uneaten plate of food and bring it to the sink.

  “Mom, I gotta go,” I rasp and start for the door.

  “Oh, Calvin, wait! I want to show you one more thing before you leave!” she calls after me, gets up from the table, and chases after me.

  She catches me in the living room and grabs my hand before I can go any further.

  “Can’t it wait?” I ask, trying not to sound exasperated.

  “No, come on,” she smiles and tugs me up the stairs.

  I follow, wondering what in the hell she has to show me up here. She stops in front of the spare room door that is not usually closed. Now, there is a sign on it with a stork that says “Nursery.” Aw, shit. I hang my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. She’s killing me.

  “Honey, I know you love Charlie and your baby. I just want you to know that I do, too, and I want what is best for all of you. You need to fix things with her because she needs you, more than you know,” my mom says softly. “I went to the doctor with her and her mom the other day when she went for her first ultrasound.”

  I’m pretty sure my heart stops beating. I missed an ultrasound? I promised her that I’d be at every single one. The pain in my chest is sharp. I press my hand against it. My mother chose that moment to open the door to the nursery. My breath catches at the sight before me. It’s painted a bright yellow with a classic Winnie the Pooh mural on the wall. I take a couple of stilted steps into the room. The second thing I notice is that there are two cribs. That’s odd. Then I see two bouncy seats, two car seats, two swings. Oh hell fucking no!

  “Why…why is there two of everything?” I choke out.

  My mom goes over to the dresser and picks up a picture frame. She walks back over to me and hands it to me. I stare down at the black and white grainy ultrasound picture. I swallow hard as my heart rate picks up and my breathing becomes shallow. It’s pretty damn clear why there is two of everything. Charlotte and I are having twins. If a black man falls in a nursery, and there’s no one around to witness it… TIMBER! Yeah, my pansy ass faints, and there are plenty of witnesses. Great, just fucking great!

  I have no idea how long I am out for, but someone decides it’s funny to wake me with smelling salts. My eyes fly open as soon as the pungent smell hits my nose. I look up to see my dad smirking over me, holding the little white capsule.

  “Welcome back,” he muses.

  I push up to my elbows and glance around to see my mother, grandfather, dad, and sister all standing around me where I’m lying on the nursery floor. All four of them fight back laughter. Assholes.

  “How long was I out?”

  “Oh, a good few minutes,” my dad says.

  “Shit,” I grunt, as I push myself into a sitting position.

  Then it hits me. The reason I passed out in the first place. Twins! I drop my face into my hands. Oh god, twins! How are we going to handle twins? I have to talk to Charlotte! Now. I shove to my feet and head for the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” my dad calls after me.

  “I gotta get my family back,” I reply and race out to my truck.

  First thing I need to do is show Charlotte how serious I am about wanting to be back in her life. I’m going to Babies-R-Us to get car seats for my truck. I need to turn my spare room into a nursery, also. If Charlotte decides not to take me back, I am still going to want to see my kids. I send Charlotte a text when I get to Babies-R-Us.

  Me: Baby girl, can we talk?

  It takes several minutes before she replies, and what she says nearly brings me to my knees.