19
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! This is not happening. I couldn’t have heard her right. Vista did not just tell me that she’s having my baby.
“So, what do you think?”
What do I think? Is she kidding me? “I need to sit down.” Before I pass the fuck out. I glance around the room, but all I see are giant fucking pieces of exercise equipment. Where are the benches? The chairs? Shit, I feel light-headed.
“Here, come sit on the mat.”
Vista takes my arm to guide me down, but I can’t feel a damn thing. It’s like my body doesn’t even exist anymore. Am I having a stroke?
“You’re looking kind of pale. I’ll be right back, okay?”
I don’t have the strength to respond. As I watch her go, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts ranging from how the fuck could this have happened to what the fuck am I going to do about it? There’s only one answer that makes sense here: I’ve officially entered the Twilight Zone.
Never in my life have I been irresponsible when it came to sex...until Vista came into my life. There is just something about the woman that makes me feel reckless, like nothing in the world matters except how much time I can steal with her. It’s been that way since the day we met. Not once did we use protection while she was staying with me. Not. Once. I knew better, and yet I did it anyway.
Is the kid mine? I’d love more than anything to deny it, but there’s no way she’d lie to me. Not about this. Vista isn’t that kind of woman. She’s never come after me for my money or what I can give her. She’s the truest person I know, so when she says it’s mine, I believe her. It’s just...holy shit! I’m not ready to be a father. I’m not father material. Not by a long shot.
My father was right. I’m an irresponsible dick.
I’m considering kicking my own ass when she walks back into the room carrying a paper cup in one hand and a stack of cookies in the other.
“Juice and a cookie,” she says as she offers them to me. “They’ll help raise your blood sugar so you don’t pass out on my floor.”
“I’m not going to pass out,” I mumble as I take a bite out of the cookie. It’s chocolate chip, one of those little hard circle kind from a package you buy at a grocery store. It probably has an annoying little elf on the front and everything. Normally, I prefer freshly baked, but I’m surprised to find that these don’t totally suck. I finish the thing off in two bites then hold out my hand for more.
“What?”
“I’m ready for another.”
Vista, munching on a cookie of her own, looks at me like I’m touched in the head. “Oh, you thought these were for you? No. Nope. These are all mine.”
I watch her devour a second cookie and start in on a third, surprised. “Didn’t your mother teach you how to share?” I ask, pretending to be appalled by her stingy behavior. In reality, I think it’s cute. I love that she’s still comfortable enough around me to tease me. That’s promising, right?
“I was an only child. I guess it spoiled me, but you should know something about that, right?” She tilts her head, a playful smile curling the corners of her lips up.
I narrow my gaze. I know she’s only playing, but damn. The fact that it’s true adds just enough of a sting to make me cringe. Does she have to put it like that? It’s damaging to a man’s ego. Not mine, of course, but other men, surely.
“Well, at least I still have this juice.” Bringing the cup up, I stop when it’s halfway to my lips and lift a sardonic brow. “Unless you brought this for you, too.”
“Oh, no. Juice gives me heartburn.”
Her comment reminds me of the little problem we’ve got going on. This time, the snack seems to keep me levelheaded, though, so any danger of kissing the floor is off the table. “Guess we were a little late on those condoms, huh?”
My attempt to infuse the situation with a little humor falls flat. There isn’t much that’s funny about getting hit with an unexpected pregnancy. With that thought, I toss back the rest of the juice.
“Heh, yeah. I guess we got a little carried away, huh?” I watch her rub her hand over her stomach, wincing when I see that tiny round bump beneath her loose fitting shirt, and I feel my blood pressure plummet all over again.
“How—” My voice catches and I have to clear my throat before I can speak. “How far along are you?” Maybe it’s not too late to fix this. Maybe we can still—
“Around five months,” she says, shooting that thought straight into the garbage. I may not avail myself of womanly crap too often, but I know enough about the reproductive process to know that we’re way beyond the point of fixing anything. We’ve crossed the point of no return.
“Are you freaking out?” Vista asks, looking at me with this mix of knowing and concern. “Because you look like you’re freaking out.”
“I’m fine.” I bristle at the question. Not because she means anything offensive by it, but because I realize that she expects me to throw a fit or walk away or, hell, maybe both.
I can’t say that I really blame her. As far as she’s concerned, my modus operandi has always been to cut and run when the going gets tough. To a degree, I suppose it’s true. I don’t form relationships with people beyond a night between the sheets because of this very thing. I don’t want attachments or commitment, and I definitely don’t need people depending on me for anything. I just want to live my life free of worry and obligations. I want my life to be mine, dammit! Is that so much to ask?
I feel like screaming and shouting and throwing things. This isn’t how I want my life to go. This wasn’t part of the plan.
Then why are you here? The voice in my head stops me cold.
I’m being a total dick, aren’t I?
After Vista walked out of my life for a second time, I was hurt. I didn’t know how to tell her everything that was going on inside my head, and I was certain she wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. She was upset with me, and rightfully so. I’ve spent the last four years regretting how I handled that night. The day after was even worse. Definitely not one of my better moments. I should have taken the time to explain to her what had happened between my father and me instead of using that random girl as a place card. I never should have left her to form her own conclusions. That look on her face when she saw us together still kills me to this day.
I never should have let my father tell me how to live my life.
That’s the part that pisses me off the most. It’s not that she did anything wrong. It was all me. I let my father use his weight and influence to shape my thinking, to inform my decisions. I was still too young and immature to have the balls to stand up to him and tell him what I wanted. I didn’t have it in me then to go after her. Instead, I forced her to walk away by hurting her.
Vista coming back into my life changed everything. It changed me. I found the courage to stand up to my father and take charge of my life. When our parents caught us in that pool and my father revealed the motive behind me leaving her back when we were teenagers, I was momentarily thrust back into my eighteen-year-old self, powerless to fight back. By the time I realized that I was letting old habits die hard, the damage had already been done.
Vista no longer trusted me. She looked at me like I was a stranger. All I saw was the hurt and anger inside of her, reminding me of that damn wedding all over again, and I buckled. How could I tell the woman I was falling in love with that I needed her to stay when all she wanted was to get away from me?
In the end, I had to let her go. I know my father better than anyone, and I knew that he was going to punish me for going against him. If Vista stuck around, she’d become part of that war. And I was right. After she left, my father went on a rampage. He told me exactly what he expected of me. He dictated my every move, where I went, who I spent time with. Everything. He had me heading back onto the field less than a week later like he promised.