Happily Even After Read online

  Chapter Two

  Creigh was all cried out. She was tired, crampy, and hungry as hell, but she was way too pooped to do anything about it. It didn’t help that nothing in her refrigerator was calling her name. It all looked bad. Even the watermelon she’d so desperately craved just two days ago had little appeal now.

  Irritated, she closed the refrigerator with an extra thump and made her way back into the living room. Before she could take her seat, the doorbell rang, freezing her in midsquat. Groaning, she stood and glanced over at the clock on the DVD player. It was after eight. Even the Jesus slingers stopped coming around after nightfall.

  The second she opened the door and peered out her security screen door, she let out a disgusted sigh. She was so not in the mood for this. Not at all. “What do you want?”

  “I brought you a peace offering.” Dean held up the plastic bag bearing the logo of her favorite deli sandwich shop. “Extra pepperoncini and sweet onion sauce. Pickles on the side.”

  Despite the hostility she so rightly felt toward him, Creigh was hungry, and she couldn’t help but be pleased he was there. The bastard was good. “Pastrami?”

  “Yes, you used to crave these around this point with both kids, so I figured…” He shrugged, as if his gesture would say what his lack of words couldn’t.

  “Thank you.” She opened the door hesitantly and took the bag from him.

  Instead of leaving as she’d hoped, Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled. It had been so long since she’d seen him look at her in that matter, for a second Creigh just gawked at him. Good Lord, he was sexy. His smile did more for her than some erotic novels. How was it possible to want someone so much yet wish an anvil would fall out of the sky and land on his head at the same time?

  “Creigh. Creigh.”

  It took a second for her brain to register he was speaking to her, but when it did, she felt like an idiot. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she mentally kicked her own ass. What was wrong with her lately? It seemed as if he couldn’t be around without her body acting all wonky. “Yes?”

  His smile faltered a bit. “Can I come in?”

  The way he said it made her wonder if this wasn’t the first time he’d asked. Either way, her answer was simple. “No. I’m in not in the mood to deal with—”

  Dean held his hands up innocently. “No dealing. No arguing. I just want to apologize.”

  “Apologize? You… Well, hell.” Creigh stepped back to allow him room to enter. “This I have to see. Where are the kids?”

  “At my house. Gino is watching them for me.”

  She made sure she stepped back far enough so there would be no accidental touching when he entered the house, then waited until he was inside before closing the door behind him. “You know the drill.” She handed him the sandwich bag, then turned and walked into the kitchen, where she took out silverware, plates, and mustard.

  Creigh always had to have extra mustard. Some people were ranch dippers. Creigh was a mustard dipper. The yellow condiment just made the world a better place. After gathering her gear, she headed back into the living room and found Dean exactly where she thought she would, sitting Indian-style in front of the coffee table.

  To his right he’d set up a little sitting area for her against the starburst orange couch by placing mounds of pillows, some lying flat on the floor and two others propped up against the foot of the couch, in a chairlike arrangement, obviously meant to be a seat for her on the floor.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t help but be touched by his consideration. Laughing, she shook her head and laid all her goodies out on the table. “I’m not that pregnant yet. But thank you.”

  “Favorite food and plush accommodations for your tush might all seem to be a bit of overkill, but it’s laying the groundwork for one massive apology, so you might as well soak it up.”

  “Massive. Wow.” Creigh made her way over to the makeshift chair and sat down, folding her hands primly on top of her tiny bulge. “This I have to see.”

  Dean separated the sandwiches, handing Creigh hers with all of her condiments included, then grabbed his and set it on the floor next to him, using his former ratty recliner as a backrest.

  “So,” she said, picking up her sub. “Let’s hear it.”

  “You don’t want to eat first? Arguments aren’t good for the baby.”

  The words “like you care” bubbled to the surface, but she held them back. Dean didn’t have to be gracious about this. It would nice if he was, but he didn’t have to be, so she didn’t want to push it. Besides, if the shoe were on the other foot, Creigh knew she would be less than thrilled her damn self. “I don’t want to argue.”

  “But can we talk about this, without bloodshed? My blood, by the way.”

  “I hit you once.” She smiled at the fond memory. “In the seventh grade, and you deserved it.”

  “I still say a bloody nose is in no way a fair and just retribution for snapping your bra strap. Admit it. You went too far.”

  She shrugged, deflecting his words as if they weren’t anything more than the buzzing of a pesky fly. “You can still breathe out of it. Some would say I didn’t go far enough.”

  “And I say those people can kiss my ass.” Dean rubbed his nose as if he felt a phantom pain from the days of yore. “You have a hell of a right hook.”

  “Well, keep that in mind while you’re here. Be nice or…” She raised her fist, letting her hand do the talking for her.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Creigh drizzled the mustard on the sandwich before taking a bite. The spicy, meaty delight set her taste buds on fire. She loved it. “Mmm.”

  “I knew that would do the trick. I can already tell you’re not eating enough.”

  Once again the urge to make a smart-ass remark about why he cared came fast and furious to her lips, but like before she refrained from acting out on it. They had enough animosity between them as it was. Besides, she was still waiting for the apology.

  After placing the sandwich back on her plate, she picked up a napkin and wiped her mouth. Setting the napkin back down, she crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at Dean. “So…”

  He held up his index finger. “First, let me say I was an ass.”

  Creigh liked the way this was going already. “Massive ass.”

  “Okay.” His lips twitched. “A massive ass, but to be fair, you really hit me from out of left field today. I’m not sure if I could have, but I should have handled it better, and for that I apologize. To you”—his gaze shot down to her belly, then back to her face—“and to the little one you’re carrying. If I recall correctly, they can hear things right about now.”

  She smiled despite herself. “I’ll have to take your word on that.” When she’d been pregnant with Harlow and Hamilton, Dean had become a fanatic for baby books. He had read What to Expect When You’re Expecting and What to Expect When Your Wife Is Expecting.

  “Do you forgive me, Creigh?” he asked, returning to his point.

  The sincerity of his words made forgiving his earlier actions easy. Lord knew they had enough problems between them without adding this to the pile. Besides, this was the nicest he’d talked to her in months. As sad as it was, she was lapping it up. “Yes, I do.”

  “Good.” Dean flashed her a quick smile before picking up his sub and then taking a big bite. Creigh couldn’t help but notice his fingers and nails were embedded with oil and grime. Which only meant one thing.

  “Working on the Impala again?” She glanced from his nail beds to his face with a little grin. “I must have really made you mad.”

  He frowned. “Why does everyone think the only time I work on the car is when I’m upset?”

  “Because it is?” She fired back, amused at his inability to see himself clearly. “Who else is ragging on you?” But the second she asked, she knew the answer.

  Tilting her head she regarded her ex and smiled. “Gino,” she said at the same time Dean did.

  “I knew
it.” She shook her head in amusement as she picked up her sandwich and took a bite. Her former brother-in-law was as bad as a fishwife. Nag, nag, nag. “So how’s that going over there?” She asked with a mouthful of food, not worried at all about politeness. They’d been an open-bathroom kind of family. A little food in the teeth was nothing compared to the other things they’d witnessed over the years.

  “I fucking hate it. He’s driving me fucking insane. Stops by any ol’ time he wants, with advice and beer, like he’s the poor man’s Dr. Phil. And if it’s not him, it’s my sister, with all her freaking kids, bringing casserole after casserole. I’m not sure who told Annabelle she could cook, but whoever it was lied.”

  “I knew moving over there was a bad idea,” she teased.

  “I assure you, it wasn’t my first choice,” he said sardonically around a mouthful of food. “I was quite happy where I was, miles and miles away from him.”

  Creigh’s smile slid away. So much for the truce. After balling up her napkin, she set it down on the plate along with her half-eaten sandwich. As hungry as she’d been before, the idea of taking another bite right now made her sick to her stomach, and it had nothing to do with the baby.

  “Well, thank you for stopping by with the food.” She rose to her feet and stood over him, trying her best to keep her emotions at bay. “And for the apology. It really meant a lot.”

  He shot her a quick, confused look. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head, not wanting to get into it.

  “Don’t lie. If I said something to make you mad, just let me know. I mean fuck.” He dropped his sandwich onto his plate and rose, agitated. “Just say what’s on your mind, Creigh.”

  “There’s nothing on my mind.” She looked away and placed her hand on her stomach. “I’m just done eating.”

  “Liar. We were having a semigood time.” A frown line appeared between his dark brows. “Or as good as we’ve had in ages.”

  It was true. All true, and she was putting an end to it because she’d gotten her feelings hurt. But these were things she couldn’t say to Dean. At best he wouldn’t understand. At worst, he would mock her inability to take a joke. Either way she would be the loser in the whole mess, so she might as well call the evening to an end before it even progressed that far.

  “Nothing to say. I see.”

  Creigh held her hands out palms up. “No. I’m fine. You apologized, which was very gracious of you, and you know, we’re fine. Or fine-ish.”

  “If you’re okay with everything, there’s no need for me to rush off.” His mouth set in a stubborn line. “It’s not like we don’t have things to talk about.”

  Moving to the couch, she sat down and curled her feet beneath her. “Okay. Let’s talk about this. But like adults. The second you start in on me, the second I feel like you’re putting me down or judging me, you’re out of here. Pastrami sandwich or not. I’m not going to be talked down to in my own home. Is that clear?”

  “Crystal.” He sat down in front of her on the coffee table.

  She braced herself for what was to come. “Then go on, talk.”

  ———

  Dean opened his mouth, then promptly closed it. There was a lot he wanted to say, but he was afraid it wasn’t going to come out the way he intended, as usual. On the ride over, he’d thought long and hard about the conversation they’d had in the kitchen and everything he could have and should have done differently. He’d responded completely off the cuff, not giving himself enough time to process what she’d said before he spoke.

  Even now, hours later, it was still hard for him to accept the fact she had not only slept with another man but was expecting a child. It wasn’t just hard. It was painful, and downshifting from angry ex to responsible adult wasn’t as easy. He was still raw from the divorce, but he was a bigger man than he’d been behaving lately, and it was about time he acted like it.

  “First, let me say I was trying here”—he gestured around his former living room—“trying to be on my best behavior. I thought my asshole flag was flying pretty low, you know.”

  “No, you were fine.” Her smile was as false as her words. “I told you, everything is fine. You didn’t do anything.”

  Fine. Dean was really beginning to hate that word. “Then why the sudden change in demeanor? You went from joking around to wanting me gone.”

  “I just…” She hesitated for a second before continuing. “I don’t know, really. What else is there to say? You apologized. I accepted. Let’s just move on.”

  “We can’t move on until we talk about”—his throat tightened, but he forced the words past his lips—“the baby.”

  A shadow crossed her face. “Haven’t we talked about that part enough?”

  “Not hardly. I’m assuming you’re planning on telling the kids soon. You can’t keep it a secret for much longer.” Hell, he was surprised he hadn’t figured it out before. Underneath the dark-circled eyes and her waning complexion, there were some very obvious side effects of the pregnancy already appearing. Her face was fuller, her hair seemed healthier, and her breasts were a bit larger. All telltale signs of the life growing inside her. “We need to tell them before they hear it from someone else.”

  “I know. I was thinking I’d tell them on Sunday when you brought them home.”

  Dean nodded. “Sounds wise. I think I should be here when you tell them.” Creigh opened her mouth to object, but he continued. “This is going to be a shock to them, and we need to show a united front. Let them know nothing is going to change—except for the obvious—of course.”

  “You’d do that?” she asked, her voice husky but hopeful.

  “Of course.” He was a bit affronted she thought he wouldn’t. Yes, things had completely sucked between them lately, the hostility more on his end than hers, but this was about family, about their kids, and he wouldn’t leave her to face it alone.

  “Then…thank you.” She offered him a small smile, something he hadn’t seen her do in a while. “I think that probably would be best.”

  “They’re going to have questions.” He would if he were them. “Lots of questions, and I think we should be prepared with our responses.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Okay.”

  “So let’s start out with the obvious.” He searched her eyes with his. “The father. Who is he?”

  She stilled. “He is no one.”

  That was not what he wanted to hear. “I really hope that’s not the answer you’re going to give them. All that’s going to do is rouse more questions.”

  “Who he is isn’t important,” Creigh said firmly. “He’s not going to be in their lives or the baby’s.”

  “And you’re fine with that?”

  She hesitated, and for a moment Dean thought she would concede, but then she lifted her chin, her resolve in place, stronger than ever. “I don’t think Harlow or Hamilton are going to ask me that.”

  “I’m asking,” he snapped, which of course was the wrong thing to do.

  Creigh narrowed her gaze and dug in her heels. “Is this little Q and A for you or them?”

  “Humor me,” he said in a more calm and reasonable tone, trying to win her over with honey instead of vinegar.

  “No.”

  God, she was stubborn as a bull. “Why the hell not? Are you still seeing him?”

  “No.”

  “Were you seeing him long?”

  A shadow passed over her face before she answered. “Not really.”

  “Did he force you? You can tell me.” He tried to gentle his voice and keep his expression neutral even though he was seething on the inside. If this guy hurt her in any way, shape, or form, he was a dead man. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. “Did he?”

  “No,” she reassured him quickly. “It was nothing like that. I had sex with him willingly.”

  “Good.” He let out a relieved sigh. “I’m glad that wasn’t the case.”

  “I can’t believe you thought it was.”
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  “I was making sure. Men these days are crazy.”

  “Tell me about it.” She stared at him pointedly.

  Affronted, Dean jerked back. “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “It’s a hard habit to break.” Especially since he didn’t want to.

  “You’re going to have to try.”

  He snorted. “It looks to me like you need looking after now more than ever.”

  Her eyes grew serious. “This baby isn’t your responsibility, Dean. Neither am I.”

  “Then whose responsibility is it?”

  “Mine.” She pointed to herself.

  That answer wasn’t good enough. “You didn’t get pregnant by yourself.”

  “And I didn’t get pregnant with you, so don’t worry. I can handle this.”

  “I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to handle it alone. The father should man up and take on his share of the load.”

  “He doesn’t want to, and I’m not going to force the issue. Besides, we’re better off without him.”

  “He gave up his wants when he lay down with you,” he reminded her, a bit irritated he had to.

  “You’re assuming we lay down.”

  The image her words drew forth made his blood boil. “If you’re trying to piss me off, you’re going about it the right way.” He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying more. Being an asshole was a lot easier than being understanding, and it was chafing like hell not to fall back into old habits. After a few minutes of pained silenced, he spoke again. “What’s his name?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Is that hyphenated?”

  A quick smiled flashed over Creigh’s lips. “You’re so stupid.”

  He took the insult in stride. At least he made her laugh, if only for a moment. “I just want to make sure he does right by you. If he wasn’t ready to be a father, he shouldn’t have engaged in the act that could make him one.”