Lonely Heart (10 page)

“Sí.” He patted me on the back. “Hang in there, mi hijo. Things will work themselves out.”

I nodded. “Te quiero, Papi.” I held on tight, grateful for the fact my father was here. Once in my truck, I snatched the tie off and unbuttoned the top three buttons of my shirt. I merged with traffic with no destination in mind.

Within a week, my life had gone from happy to unsure. It never ceased to amaze me how life could throw a curve ball and disrupt everything.

If my cousins had their way, I and several other good men would be out of work.

I needed a plan, quick.

“Kaity, what are you doin’? I said wait until I get back.” Tiffany stood in the doorway of my bedroom, annoyance on her face.

“Ow! Dang!” Startled by her sudden appearance in my doorway, my grip on the screwdriver slipped, stabbing my finger. The cut reddened as blood drew to the surface. I threw the tool down in disgust.

The salty taste of blood flooded my mouth as I sucked on my finger. “That’ll be hours from now. I need a distraction. Puttin’ up the presents will keep me busy for a while. Before that happens, the crib needs to be put together.” My attention went to the boxes and bags from my baby shower.

Ebony and Yasmine threw a wonderful party. To my surprise many of my co-workers, even actresses from the show, came to show their support. I now had nearly everything needed except for clothes. Onesies and t-shirts, of course, but nothing gender specific.

“You need to stop letting old what’s his name get you down. He’s bein’ an asshole.”

The irritation from my recent encounter with the man left me frustrated beyond belief. “Two years of my life spent in a relationship with real possibilities, then poof, gone. Bein’ alone wasn’t supposed to happen. I shouldn’t be sittin’ on the floor, puttin’ this crib together; he should!”

I grabbed the side of my bed for support and eased my way onto my knees and then up to the bed. Winded, I leaned against the headboard and propped my back with pillows. My life sucked.

Calling him today had, as always, been a waste of time. I was the one checking in, not him. My attempts at being cordial didn’t change things. One thing led to another, he’d get pissed, then I would, too. The call ended, usually with me hitting the end button and tossing the phone across my bed.

No matter what I said, Luke never confirmed what role he would take in our child’s life. Absent or by my side, joint custody…nothing. Today, an ultimatum was laid out. If he couldn’t decide the court would decide for him. Coming from a family of lawyers, he couldn’t afford the embarrassment. Maybe it would motivate him to at least send monthly checks, even if he didn’t want to spend the time visiting.

Regardless of what happened, my feelings would not be the reason why my child didn’t know its father. From now on, it would be all on him.

Tiffany finished wrapping her hair in a ponytail holder, and put a hand on her hip. “Well he’s not. Stop stressin’ and take care of yourself. For starters, watch your blood pressure.” She inspected my ankles. “You need to elevate them, you’re swellin’ again.” She picked up a pillow, motioned for me to lift my legs.

I sighed “You have no idea how much I miss lying on my stomach.”

“Tiffany laughed. “And that’s why I am in no rush to get pregnant. It’s awkward enough just layin’ on these boobs.”

According to my pregnancy manual, sleepiness at nearly eight months was normal. I was right on point. “I’d take that right now.” I yawned, my eyes heavy and body exhausted. The click of the door closing was the last thing I heard as Tiffany exited my bedroom.

My mind drifted between reality and dreams.

Luke lay in bed with me as we did when we first moved in together. I nestled against his chest…he held me tight, his nose in my hair, his voice low as he sang to me. Our fingers linked while resting on my belly, our baby rolling beneath our fingers…

A light rap on my bedroom door pulled me back to consciousness.

“Kaity, sorry, but Antonio is here.”

Groggy, I blinked. “What? Who’s here?”

“Antonio, the hot mechanic.” She blew bangs from her face. “He was standin’ in the doorway as I was leavin’. Want him to come in?”

I eased to a sitting position and fought dizziness from waking too soon. At least the headache was gone. “Sure, that’s fine. How long was I asleep?”

“Thirty minutes. Crap, I’m late. I’ll call later to check on you.” She paused, studying me. “You gonna be okay?”

I stood, grimaced as the muscles in my ankles and feet tightened from the added baby weight. “I’ll be fine. Tell Antonio I’ll be out in a minute.”

Tiffany disappeared with the bounce in her step of someone who hadn’t gained thirty pounds. God. I envied her.

At least my clothing was decent. Black leggings and a tank top fitting snug over my engorged belly. My toes weren’t painted. Dang. Now with Tiffany gone, putting on socks would be difficult. In no mood to put on tennis shoes, I walked, barefoot, into the living room.

Antonio stood, hands in pockets, his expression solemn. He wore jeans, a clean button up shirt, and a baseball cap. His face had been shaved clean with no hint of the five o’clock shadow he wore at our last encounter. He must have plans. He faced the sliding glass doors lost in thought. It had been a week since his uncle’s funeral.

“Hi.”

His attention shifted, taking me in from the top of my head, to my toes, and up again. His eyes seemed to brighten. “Hi… wow, you’ve gotten bigger.”

My hands automatically went to my belly.

“I meant that in a good way….you know, the baby is growing.” He pointed at my belly, then squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

A laugh escaped. “It’s okay, believe me, I’ve gotten bigger.”

“How much longer do you have?”

“About four weeks, give or take, depending on if this baby comes early or stays as long as possible.” I winced as pain hit my lower back.

“Is everything okay?” He stepped toward me, hands stretched out, ready to catch me if I lost my balance.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. With the baby getting’ bigger, I’m uncomfortable.” I made my way to the sofa and sat down. “Have a seat.”

He settled next to me. “My grandmother had me bring some things over. I decided to stop and see how you were doing, plus I wanted to thank you for calling last week. It meant a lot.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, and thanks for stoppin’ by. I’m good. How have you been holding up?”

Antonio’s face grew grim. “As good as I can be. Things at work are driving me crazy though.”

“With your uncle gone, it must be hard showing up every day.”

He huffed. “I wish it were that simple.” His head dropped as he massaged his eyes. “My cousins – his sons – are hell bent on selling the place, liquidating all his assets, and splitting the money. They could care less about the employees. Some of those men have been working there for over fifteen years, some of them trained me.”

“What about you?”

“I can find another job. It’s the older guys who’ve worked there for years and don’t have a retirement fund. Who’s gonna pay their bills?” He sat back, exasperated. “I don’t mean to come over here with my crap. You’ve got enough going on. It’s just…”

I turned as much as possible on the sofa so I could see his full profile. His rich, honey-colored Latino complexion, and close cropped, dark hair was thick and shiny with whatever he used to keep the straight pieces in place. The tips had a slight bend; I bet if it grew out, it would probably curl.

His nose was in perfect proportion to his full jaw and cheeks. Thick, dark eyebrows sat over intense eyes, a shade of brown mixed with crimson, which went from me to some random point in the room as he shared his feelings about what was going on in his life.

Antonio’s voice was soothing, deep enough to relay confidence and passion. And at this moment, passionate was accurate. The more he shared his concern about his uncle’s legacy and the men who worked there, the more his accent thickened and every other word went from English to Spanish.

I put my hand on his bicep. He stopped speaking, startled by the connection.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to be rude and just say, ‘hey’, but I can’t understand a word you’re sayin’ anymore.”

He looked confused, then laughed. “Lo siento…sorry,” he smiled. “Force of habit. The last few days have been filled with stupid arguments, all in Spanish.” He inhaled as if to calm himself. The slow release of air seemed to do the trick. He twisted his neck from side to side; releasing tension, then raised his arms over his head to stretch. My hand fell off his bicep. I didn’t realize I’d been holding on.

Wow, nice arms. I rubbed my fingers absently, trying to erase the memory of the firmness of the muscle I felt from the movement.

I cleared my throat and forced myself to blink.

“Kaity?”

“Huh?”

“How did the baby shower go?”

“Oh… perfect.” I laughed, hoping it would cover the fact my mind had gone somewhere else.

“Is there anything I can help with?”

“The crib,” I blurted.

He nodded. “They can be tricky. I’ll put it together. Where is it?”

“My bedroom.”

Antonio stood and offered his hand to help me up. I accepted, pulling away as soon as I had my balance.

Why did I feel I was doing something wrong? He followed me to my room, paused in the doorway, and laughed at the disarray of nuts, bolts, and wooden slats.

“You did this?” His smile was wide, his eyes bright, a drastic change from the way he’d been moments before.

“I’m glad you think it’s funny,” I said in mock sarcasm.

“No offense, but how did you expect to get this done in your condition? At this stage you shouldn’t be doing a lot physically, especially when your blood pressure is up.” He shook his head. “You’ve got a stubborn streak.”

I crossed my arms as best as I could with my large belly in the way and sat on the edge of the bed. “So what?”

He shrugged, lowered, and examined the disarray. “Stubborn can be good…sometimes. Just make sure you know when to ignore the instinct. The repercussions can hurt you.” He nodded at my belly.

Even though his point was valid, it didn’t stop the urge to snap back. I appreciated his help, and okay, he was easy on the eyes and I enjoyed our conversations. That didn’t give him the right to…to…

My thoughts froze as he stood and unbuttoned his shirt, his attention on the parts resting on the floor. I ogled him without shame.

“Do you have a set of screwdrivers? You know flat head, Phillips…”

“Um,” I cleared my throat and indicated the corner of the room. “There’s a flat head over there, somewhere. I kinda threw it when I got mad. I’m not great with tools.”

“Everybody can’t be.” He slid his shirt off his shoulders, folded it in half.

My eyes felt as if they would explode. The bulge in his bicep was attached to well defined muscle. Everything looked good. His chest and abs were covered in a snug black muscle shirt which left very little to the imagination.

A rush of heat had me fanning.

“Is there somewhere I can set this?” He seemed oblivious to my stare.

Thank God.

“Sure.” I reached out for it, holding it a few seconds longer than needed, enjoying the heat from the fabric. The scent of his cologne was mesmerizing.

“Sorry for taking off my shirt. I’ve got a…plans later and don’t want to sweat it out.”

“Oh…no problem. Are you sure you have time for this? If not, it’s okay. Tiffany promised she’d help this evenin’…”

“I’ve got time.” His direct gaze made me shut my mouth. He sat down with instructions in his hands and sifted through the pieces of the mess I’d left behind.

I remained quiet, not wanting to disrupt his concentration. It was hard not to stare at him as he worked. He seemed good at everything he put his hands on. In the month since fixing my car, I had no problems. Now in less than ten minutes, the bones of the crib were coming together.

“So…,” his attention on the screw in his hand, “What are you having? Boy or girl?”

“No idea. Two ultra sounds and each time the baby’s legs were closed tight.”

He laughed. “Sounds like the kid is going to be stubborn, too. What do you want?”

“Oh, you’ve got jokes. Very funny.” I rolled my eyes, then laughed. “A girl. I want to do the whole pink thing and be girly. I spent enough time around my brothers to know boys can be a pain. No offense.”

“None taken,” he said, though his sideways’ glance was sarcastic. “What about the father?”

Well didn’t that just ruin the moment? “What about him?”

He paused. “I take it things aren’t working out.”

“Not anymore.” I stared down at my unpainted toes.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” He turned his attention back to the task at hand.

“It’s obvious we’re not together anymore. Guess I’ll get used to it…eventually.”

Antonio grew silent as he completed the task, then cleaned up the mess.

Unable to remain patient, I grabbed the bag of linens for the baby’s crib. He helped me put them on, then pushed the crib to its position against the wall. When we were done, I sat on the bed; he sat next to me admiring his work.

My body went on alert, not from fear because Antonio was a good man. The temptation from the sexy spice of cologne and his physical presence in my bedroom, on my bed, awoke the urge for physical intimacy. Being pregnant and estranged from the father of my child did not mean I didn’t have physical needs.

I risked a glance; luckily, his attention was on the crib. He appeared satisfied with his work. My eyes went to his lips. What it would be like to kiss him?

Okay, reality check.

Me: pregnant, not his baby.

Him: hot stud who’s obviously got a date.

Conclusion: pay him, say thank you, wait for him to leave, cry myself to sleep. Again.

I pushed up from the bed. “Thank you, Antonio. I appreciate your help.” I went to the dresser and dug into my purse for my wallet, counted off a few bills. When I faced him, he looked offended.

“What is that?” He indicated the cash in my hand.

“Me givin’ you somethin’ for your time. You didn’t have to go out of your way to─”