Wilde by Abby Brooks
Chapter Twelve
Amy
Credit to Leo. Even though Dad kicked him out of the house and told him never to come back, he did. Over the last few weeks, he’s been here for me, checking in at least once a day to make sure I have what I need. Some mornings, I still wake up questioning if the pregnancy is a dream. Usually, by the time I rub my eyes and groan myself out of bed, reality has settled back in. If not, there’s a fifty percent chance I’ll throw up my breakfast—which is a pretty solid reminder. Although that’s beginning to improve, thank goodness.
I’ve put in some applications at local businesses…mostly reception and data entry. Mind numbing stuff that might mean I get medical coverage so I can actually afford to have this baby. I just haven’t heard back from anywhere, which is really starting to stress me out. I need a job. Maybe I should expand my search?
My phone buzzes on the desk, snapping me back to the present. It’s Leo informing me he’s here to take me to my OB/GYN appointment. Yeah…he’s that kind of there for me.
I lock up the house, then bound down the front steps, taking a deep breath as the late afternoon sun warms my skin. It’s one of those perfect May days. Bright, shining, and clean. Yesterday’s rain left dew to sparkle on each blade of grass this morning and the smell of life is everywhere. It’s so perfect, I’m grinning from ear to ear when I climb into the car. “You know? I’m really starting to like the old Scarlet Harlot.”
Leo’s eyebrows twitch. “The what?”
“Come on. Even you have to admit that’s a better nickname than Jezebel.”
He pats the dash. “Don’t listen to her, baby. She doesn’t mean it.”
“But I do. Just say it. Scarlet Harlot. It’s so cute.”
“Jezebel is not cute. She’s…”
“A car?” I flare my hands and grin as Leo seethes. I’ve learned a lot about him in the last couple weeks. Jezebel is not just a car. She’s…
Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m even thinking of it as a her now!
Don’t misunderstand, Leo and I aren’t dating or anything. I don’t really know what we are. If someone forced me to put a label on it, I guess I’d say we’re friendly working for casual? The man’s hard to read, okay? Am I supposed to bring the topic up in conversation or something? Because there’s a hundred percent chance that’s never going to happen.
Anyway, whatever we are or aren’t, we’ve at least passed the point of pretending to need an excuse to text each other throughout the day. We’ve also grabbed a bite to eat a few times, but it’s never a date. The vibe is always casual. Friendly but with a tangible distance. Like he’s afraid if we get too close, he’ll try to kiss me again.
Except when we talk on the phone at night. There’s nothing casual about those conversations. It’s usually late, after he gets home from work, or wherever. The routine is the same. Out of the blue I get a text asking if I’m up, or busy, or if I feel like talking—it’s always something innocuous. Then, if I respond that I’m free, a few seconds later my phone rings.
And he talks.
About work.
About moving to LA and hobnobbing with the rich and famous.
About all the time he spent in the garage with Jezebel.
He gives me drawing prompts, urging me to challenge myself, to continue honing my skill. I give in, drawing whatever he requested, then listening with pride as he encourages me to go deeper once he sees what I came up with the next day.
I wonder what it is about the sun going down that lowers his guard.
It’s not so much the topic of conversation that’s revealing. It’s the passion in his voice. This is a man who sees life differently. Who catches details others miss. He’s a deep thinker and questions everything. It’s probably what causes him to rebel, but it also makes him fascinating.
And on the opposite end of the spectrum from Leo, there’s Avery. He only sees what people expect him to see. There’s no depth to his thought. He called the day after he tracked me down at Plinky’s. I answered, thinking I’d tell him once and for all that he needs to stop calling me. To stop trying to worm his way back into my life. And I did say that. At least twelve times. I’m just not sure he heard.
What a conversation. He rattled on, telling me how foolish I was and how I needed to stop thinking with my emotions.
Stop thinking with my emotions? Really?
He thinks Dad is no fan of Leo—which was true initially, but not anymore. They’re warming up to each other. I think Avery’s hoping they can join forces. It feels like the kind of thing he’d do anyway.
Because he’s a coward.
* * *
“Damn.” Leo turns to check out the ass of a woman walking by as we navigate the halls of the medical building. “How big do you think you’re actually going to get?”
“Remind me why you’re here again?” I punch his arm. “And FYI, saying crap like that doesn’t make you ‘wild with an E,’ it just makes you an ass.”
He rubs his outer triceps. “Guess the hormone changes have started.”
“Ah, yes.” I stop outside the door to the doctor’s office and turn to him, brows raised, clearly unimpressed. “You don’t like what I’m saying? Brush it off as the hormones talking. Very emotionally mature coping tactic. I like it.” I shake my head to make sure he catches the sarcasm.
“It’s not gonna matter how much weight you gain. You realize that, right? You’ll always be beautiful. And talented. And, I mean, you’re hanging out with me, so that’s like plus ten cool points all by itself.”
I roll my eyes to cover how much his compliments affect me. “You cannot embarrass me in the doctor’s office. Promise you will behave.”
Leo stiffens, calling my bluff. “Or else?”
I jut my hip and perch my hand on it with all the sass I’ve got. “Or else you can wait right here, mister.”
“There’s that massive bark I like so much.” He grins and pulls open the door, motioning me inside with his free hand. “After you, Skips.”
A few minutes after checking in, someone calls my name and a nurse leads us back to the examination room. She quickly records my vitals, then assures us the doctor will be right in.
Leo drops into the chair across from the exam table and pulls out his phone. “Shit, there’s no service back here.”
“Is my company so bad?”
I want him to say no. I need him to say no. The more time we spend together, the more I realize how much I enjoy being around him. Is it wishful thinking to hope he feels the same?
Leo tilts his head and smiles but doesn’t look up. “Sorry, I’m waiting on a call. It’s important.”
I don’t believe he’s implying that being here isn’t important, but I’m still spicy about the girl in the hall quip, so I feel obligated to return the favor. As dramatically as I can while keeping a straight face, I throw my hands in the air. “And what the hell do you think this is?” I whisper-yell. “Just a place to kill time while you wait for your important call?”
Leo looks up, confused and surprised. “What? No, I didn’t…”
I hold back my smile as long as I can, but he’s barely begun apologizing when I crack.
He chuckles lightly as he realizes the tables have been successfully turned, then calmly slips his phone into his pocket and stands. His gaze is hot. Feral. Totally inappropriate for a doctor’s office, but who the hell cares. I sure don’t.
He cages me with his arms, hands pressed to the exam table, his face so close…
…eyes on mine…
…licks his lips…
“You have my attention, Skippy.” His voice, so low, so coarse, sends shivers flaring across my skin. “What’re you going to do with it?”
I swallow. In any other situation, I’d close the very short distance between us and urge him to press his lips to mine because I am so tired of pretending there’s nothing between us. But in this one? With a doctor about to walk in at any minute? “I…”
He laughs again and pulls away, just slightly. “Don’t mess with a man unless you’re ready to be messed with.”
I mumble something—who knows what?—and try to put myself back to rights, but Leo’s still there hovering over me, his face smiling and light. Something on my cheek captures his attention.
“Stay still. Don’t move.” He carefully removes an eyelash that must’ve fallen when I wiped my eyes. “Close your eyes and make a wish,” he says, holding the eyelash between his thumb and index finger.
I wish it could always be like this.
The thought should surprise me, but it doesn’t. Being with Leo makes me feel like I’ve found what I was missing. Like all the pieces to the puzzle of Amy Sinclair are falling into place.
When I blink my eyes open again, he smiles and raises the hand holding my eyelash. “Now, if you want the wish to come true you have to correctly guess whether it’ll stick to my finger or my thumb when I pull them apart.”
“What?” I laugh. “What kind of nonsense magic game is this?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, I didn’t make them, but those are the rules.”
“Fine.” I cross my arms in protest. “Thumb.”
Leo twists his wrist to see for himself, obscuring my view in the process. He looks up with a wicked grin. “Winner, winner. Thumb it is.”
For a second, I think he’s moving in to kiss me. But before anything has time to happen, there’s a light knock at the door followed by a plump man in a white coat stepping into the room. “Good afternoon, I’m Dr. Lee.” He glances up from the tablet in his hands. “Which one of you is Amy?” He eagerly looks back and forth between us, waiting for a reaction, but continues unphased when neither of us laugh. “Classic doctor joke. I’ve got a million of ‘em. You’ll see," he says, shaking our hands.
He carefully walks through everything he’s going to do before he does it, and aside from his super corny sense of humor, has me at ease with the entire experience.
“Okay, now it’s still early days, but I’d like to perform something called a pelvic ultrasound.” Dr. Lee explains the reasons and risks, but most of what he says sounds like medical-ese to me and I kind of zone out.
“Yeah. Okay.”
Approximately two seconds after he warns about the ‘sensation,’ I seriously regret not paying more attention to him before. But then I hear it—so fast and steady, like a hummingbird’s wings.
Swoosh-swoosh-swoosh-swoosh.
“Ah, there it is.” The doctor sits back in his seat. “Your little one’s heartbeat. Sounds strong. That’s good.”
Overwhelmed, I look for Leo to share this unbelievable moment with him. Except when I look back, all I find is the door quietly closing.