I'll Be Your Somebody (2 page)

A loud wail blared into the kitchen, and Tim’s deep voice began rumbling.  Rosita and Ulrich went back to the living area where they saw Tim cooing and bouncing a sobbing Kerry, his duffel bag by his feet.  Bevin was standing off to the side and looking at the floor, her arms tight around her.

“Da!  Da!” Kerry cried, rubbing his face against his father’s neck.

Rosita saw Tim’s jaw clench as he held his baby gently to him, his green eyes closed.  “Daddy has to work, okay?”

“No!” Kerry refused, burrowing closer.

There was a loud sniffle and Bevin wiped her face before going to Tim.  “Come on, Kerry, Papa’s gotta go.”

“DaDa!” Kerry cried again, shaking his head and kicking his legs in denial.

Tim opened up his arms and brought Bevin close to him, whispering intelligibly to his wife as he held her and his son to his heart.  Rosita felt Ulrich press against her, tangling their fingers together.

“I get jealous of him,” Ulrich said quietly in her ear.

“Why?”

“He has someone to say goodbye to,” Ulrich said, shrugging.  “I shouldn’t be, you know?  Yeah, I call my parents, but…for years, Tim didn’t have anyone he could call. But I see him now with Bevin and his son, and I wish I had someone like that.”

Rosita turned to him.  He still gazed at the family having their moment, wistfulness emblazoned on his face.  She stood directly in front of him and his black eyes moved to her.

“I can be that for you today,” she offered.  “
Si tú quieres
.”

He said nothing for a long while, so long Rosita’s cheeks burned and she started to retract her proposal, until his large, dark-bronzed hand smoothed over the inky curls of her head to cup her cheek.

“Pray for me?” he asked quietly.

“
Sí, siempre
,” she responded, not even bothering to hide the tears in her eyes.

He smiled a little, touching his thumb to her cheek, and kissed her forehead.  “
Gracias, mi hermosa chica
Rosita.”

“
Regrese a mi
, Ulrich,” she commanded on a whisper, clutching his shirt.  “
Por favor
…”

“I’ll do my best,” he replied sincerely, and Rosita knew that was the only vow he could keep.  They hugged each other for a long moment before Ulrich pulled away to drop a chaste, yet meaningful kiss to her lips.  He then moved to hug Bevin and his godson while Tim came to her.  He grinned, his tall frame enveloping her, and she snuggled into his form.

“Take care of her,” Tim said.

“Of course, you know me,” Rosita returned.

“Yes, and I know her…” Tim pulled back and gave her a serious look.  “She won’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

His eyes shifted down the hall and back to her.  “I know.”

Rosita frowned.  “You know
what
?”

Tim pursed her lips.  “She’s pregnant.”

She sucked in a harsh breath and her eyes widened.  “What?”

“I saw the stick, Rosita.  Why won’t she tell me?  She thinks I can’t handle it?”

“Tim—”

“If I didn’t have to go right now I’d challenge her on it,” Tim said with a slight huff.  “I had to go off once without her telling me, and now I’m going again.  She can’t keep doing things like that,” he said seriously.

Rosita licked her lips and tried to keep the anxiousness from her eyes.  “She probably doesn’t want to tell you until she’s absolutely sure.”  Tim rolled his eyes and Rosita slapped him lightly on the chest.  “Seriously!  Those things aren’t one hundred percent.”

His irritation lessened.  “But she’d tell me if she were, right?”

Rosita showed a little smile.  “I think so.  The last time, y’all were newlyweds.  This time, you already have Kerry; why not another?”

He smiled as well, kissing Rosita’s cheek.  “Thank you for being my friend.”

It was things like this that let Rosita know just why this man held her best friend’s heart.  For all his strength and power, the gentleness and gratitude Tim could show displayed his humility and honor.

The same way Ulrich could.

“Come on, man, Uncle Sam is an impatient bastid!” Ulrich teased, injecting levity in a grave situation.

Everyone chuckled.  Tim tweaked Rosita’s chin playfully and winked as he backed away.  He gave his wife and son one last lingering look, mouthing, “I love you,” which Bevin returned.  Kerry waved forlornly at his father and Tim blew him a kiss.  Rosita put her hands on her abdomen, feeling the flutters of this poignant goodbye.

She met Ulrich’s eyes and didn’t break the contact until he closed the door behind Tim.

At that moment, she prayed her child had eyes like her daddy.

“¡Rosita,
chica, tú necesite que decirle a Ulrich que tú est
é
embarazada
!”

Rosita scowled at the cake she was pulling out the oven, muttering under her breath.  Of all the times for her mother to come down to Charleston and bother a body!  Didn’t the woman understand she couldn’t tell Ulrich anything because she didn’t know where the hell he was?  And even if she did, this wasn’t something you told a man over the phone or in an e-mail—especially a man with whom your relationship was undefined!  Ulrich wasn’t her husband—he wasn’t even her boyfriend!  The most she could do was take care of herself and the baby she carried until Ulrich returned.

And he
would
…he promised he’d do his best.

“Rosita!”

“¡
Sí
, Mama,
sí
,
yo sé
!” Rosita insisted, putting the pan on a wire rack and pulling off the oven mitts.  Her mother’s sable hand closed around hers and Rosita let her head drop slightly.  The older woman kissed her cheek and Rosita smiled.

“My baby’s to be a mother,” Milagros murmured in English, patting her daughter’s hand.  “¡
Que bueno
!”

“Even though I’m not married?” Rosita asked quietly.

Milagros moved her hand to smooth down her daughter’s head.  “Only a matter of time.”

Rosita gave her mother a weird look.  “
No entiendo
…”

Milagros took her hand and led her to the kitchen table where they sat, the hands still joined on the tabletop.  “You want to know why your father and I aren’t disappointed.”

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s no point in getting upset,” Milagros said.  “What’s done is done; but…your father and I weren’t under any delusions, either.  We both know you and Robbie are…em…
active
, we’ll say.  But I taught you well.  Beverly and I taught you very well.”

Rosita grinned. Her mother and Mama Bevie had given her a birds and bees discussion she’d never forget!

“And then after what happened before…this was different.”  Milagros shrugged and smiled slightly.  “
Lo siente mas diferente, mija
.”

Rosita nodded.  “It is.”

Milagros smiled.  “
Yo sé
.  Ulrich is a good and honorable man.  Any friend of Tim’s has to be, no?”

Rosita nodded.  When she’d told her parents she was pregnant, they hadn’t even asked who the father was.  They’d known, which had surprised the hell out of her.

“You always knew where the other was,” her father Juan had said softly.  “That’s why we knew.”

“What are you talking about?” Rosita had asked.

“Tim and Bevin’s wedding,” her mother had replied.  “You always knew where the other was.”

Rosita had tried to play it off, saying they were the maid of honor and the best man, but her parents weren’t idiots and they hadn’t raised their children to be idiots, either.  But being an idiot wasn’t necessarily the same as being a coward; for all of her “take-no-shit” attitude, Ulrich had scared the piss out of her.  And unless she was on a toilet, Rosita liked her piss in her kidneys where it belonged.  But his black eyes…his sturdy body…his dark-honey skin…his…
goodness
…all that fine-ness was too much to handle even for
her
.  She was used to men eating out her hand as if they were ducks and she had a handful of bread crumbs.

But Ulrich didn’t want crumbs, at least not in the long run; and while he’d played the part of a pinch hitter, he was a direct-shot-over-centerfield guy.

And, turned out, she was the same type of woman.

Then again, how could she not be?  She
was
Milagros Velez’s daughter…

“This is why you should tell him,
mija
; not only because it’s the right thing to do, but because it’s the
only
thing to do.  A man like that would want to know, ¿
verdad
?”

Rosita nodded.

“Yes, so,” Milagros paused and stood, going back to where the cake was cooling.  “He’ll be here shortly—”

“
What?!
”

Milagros beamed at her daughter.  “I called him and told him to come.  He should be here soon.”

Rosita clenched her jaw, glad she hadn’t been standing or else she’d be sprawled on the floor from shock.  She wanted to cuss someone out, but she wasn’t stupid enough to turn her ire onto her mother.  She wondered how in the blue hell Milagros had gotten her hands on his number—

She was going to kill Robbie!

“I see the bloodshed in your eyes,
mija
.  Don’t kill your brother,” Milagros commanded.

Damn.  There was no way she could ignore a direct order like that.  She’d just have to maim him very well.

“Is that why we’re baking a cake?” Rosita asked, setting aside her plan of vengeance for later.

“
Sí
,” Milagros answered.  “
Tu novio mucho tendrá hambre
.”

Rosita snorted at that.  As much as she wanted to correct her mother and declare Ulrich wasn’t her boyfriend, considering her current state, the denial would be laughable.  Besides, Ulrich would eat anything within sight regardless if he’d just had a five-course meal five minutes earlier.

“The cake will be cooled by then?”

Milagros shrugged.  “
No sé, pero habrá comida a comer.
”

Rosita leaned back in the seat, her hand settling on her abdomen.  Already toned from her daily capoeira routines, her stomach was even firmer now because of the life she carried within her.  She forced herself to take deep breaths even as her heart rate increased.  Maybe she should’ve called him, should’ve prepared him.  She’d known this day would come sooner or later.  While she didn’t contact Ulrich per se, she did get updates about him from Bevin, who would get calls from Tim whenever he could.  Everyone was safe last update, which had been two weeks ago.

Yeah, so safe he’ll be at my place at any moment!

He’d only been here once…after his breakup with Patrice…during New Year’s no less.  The girl didn’t have a sense of timing worth a damn.  Patrice had been on her way back to Seattle to visit her folks; and when she hadn’t invited Ulrich to come along, well, that had been quite the death knell.  Since Tim had encouraged Ulrich to come down to South Carolina to ring in the New Year with friends, they’d somehow ended up at Rosita’s condo, which made sense because having a wild party at Bevin’s parents’ house was nigh impossible—especially with little Kerry in tow.  To be fair, however, the party hadn’t started crazy; but when one was friends with Courtney and Tamara, bedlam was only a tick-tock away.

Rosita and Ulrich hadn’t slept together then, surprisingly, but they’d had one hell of a makeout session.  Ulrich, despite his inebriation, had had too much respect for Rosita to treat her as a trampoline woman.  But when she’d come up to visit Bevin and Tim during the Martin Luther King holiday, all bets had been off.

And clothes.

And all the hard-ass Rosita-ness she wore like a badge of honor.  He’d coaxed that right off her with tender kisses, delicate touches, and succulent moans of pleasure in her ear.

“Thinking about him,
chica
?”

Rosita sat up abruptly, her knee hitting underneath the table.  She cursed under her breath while her mother merely grinned.

“You think you know everything,” Rosita muttered, rubbing the smarting spot on her knee.

“
Porque yo sé todo
,” Milagros said with a wide smile, “
acerca de mis hijos.
”

¡Dios!
  Would Rosita be that kind of mother?  Would she be able to tell her children’s mood just by the inclines of their heads or the inflections of their voices?  Granted, Milagros had had twenty-nine years to learn about her, but was the learning curve shallow or steep?

She wondered if Bevin could already do it with Kerry.

So deep in thought, she jumped at the chime that echoed through the condo, knocking her knee on the table again.

“
Tu novio está aqui, chica
,” Milagros predicted.

Rosita gulped.

Milagros chuckled a little.  “Go let him in,
mija
.”

Rosita stood slowly, her knees quaking far more than she preferred, and she walked to the door.  She looked through the peephole and sagged against the wall.

He was here
.

Taking a deep breath and whispering a quick prayer
a Dios
, Rosita opened the door, her hand instinctively cradling the slight pooch of her abdomen.  Ulrich sported a scar along his right cheek but other than that, looked just as handsome as he had the last time she’d seen him.

She closed her eyes, tears suddenly gathering in them.  The weight of that thought had hit her without warning.  She’d taken for granted his returns before, but not anymore, not when she carried the life they’d created inside of her.

“Oh, Rosita,
chica
,” he whispered and pulled her close.  “Don’t cry.”

She sobbed instead, as if to spite him, wrapping her arms tightly around him.  “
Me alegro que tú regresaras a mi
.”

Ulrich walked them inside of her condo, closed the door, and then leaned back against it, never letting her out of his embrace.  He whispered soothing nonsense, brushing his hand over her curly black hair and squeezing her gently every now and again.  She curled into his hard body, wanting him to never let her go, scared at the emotions coming from her.

Eventually he lifted her in his arms, cradling her like a baby, and walked them to the couch.  He settled her in his lap and rocked her, kissing her forehead and temple at various points.  She didn’t know how long they sat like that; but when she finally settled down, he brushed away her tears and smiled.

“You sure know how to greet a brotha!” he teased.

Rosita had to laugh, glad he reverted back to humor.  “I’m sorry.”

“No!  I don’t mind,” he promised.  “Bevin was the same way when Tim came back the first time…”

And just like Bevin’s first time, Rosita was carrying her man’s first child in her womb.  She became woozy at that realization.

“You don’t look so good,” Ulrich murmured, placing the back of his hand against her forehead.  “Are you sick?”

Rosita closed her eyes and shook her head, taking away his hand and clutching it in her lap.  “I’m not sick.”

His nose grazed her cheek.  “Oh.  So then you’re pregnant.”

Her eyes popped open.  “Ulrich!”

He didn’t back down.  “Are you?”  He settled his hand on her abdomen and a smile filled his face.  “It’s mine.”

It wasn’t a question, which was good for him, or else she would’ve socked him good in the eye.  Rosita watched his large hand move over her belly as if he could feel the child beneath.  It hadn’t moved yet; and according to the doctor, it was too soon.  But she wouldn’t be surprised if her baby decided to move for her daddy.

“I’d suspected,” Ulrich admitted, his focus still on his hand.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Tim started ranting about Bevin not telling him she was pregnant, about a stick in the bathroom when we left his house that day.  I didn’t correct him, because correcting him would turn the focus on me, and I wasn’t ready for it yet.”

“Correct him?” Rosita asked. She could dissect that one first.

“Yeah,” Ulrich said.  “No way in the world Bevin would keep something like that from him.  She would’ve told him if she were pregnant.”

“But I didn’t tell you,” she said.

He looked at her intently.  “You aren’t Bevin.”

She winced and started to pull back, but Ulrich tightened his arms around her.  “No, don’t go anywhere.  I didn’t mean that as a dis.  Our relationship isn’t the same as theirs.”

“No…”

“And part of me is glad you waited until now,” Ulrich revealed.

“Why?”

“Because I can hold you and hug you and make sure you’re doing well.  I would’ve been a mess in the field, knowing you were back here taking care of my baby and I couldn’t be there for you,” Ulrich confessed, his black eyes dancing over her features.

Rosita curled her hand around his.  “Are you angry?”

He shook his head and kissed her.  “I’m not even on the planet of Angry.  I’m scared to death, though.”

Rosita chuckled against his mouth.  “I am too.”

“You know I’ll be here for you,” Ulrich promised, letting strands of her hair curl around his fingers.

“I know.  You’re a good man.”

“Yes.  I…”  He closed his mouth and laughed lightly.  “You might snatch my head off.”

“What?” Rosita asked.

“I want to marry you.”

The panic was swift and sure as it enveloped her body.  She left his lap and stood, hands on her hips.  “Because I’m pregnant?”

“It’s certainly a factor,” Ulrich said.

At least he didn’t lie to her.  “And if I weren’t pregnant?”

He shrugged.  “I would’ve asked you eventually.”