Pregnant with the Enemy's Baby

I chased Tristan from eighteen to twentytwo. Did every stupid thing a girl can do for a boy who was never going to choose her.

Until the day I heard him tell a friend, with a shrug, exactly why he'd never bothered to turn me down. "I keep her around for fun." The night I heard that one sentence, something that had roared in me for four years just went quiet.

I took off the necklace he'd given me. Never put it on again. I stopped chasing. Stopped making scenes.

When the rumors started, him and some other girl, I smiled and let them slide right off me. When he brought a new girlfriend to a party, I didn't start a single fight.

And when he told me he was really getting married, when he set the invitation in my hand himself, the whole room went still. They were all waiting for me to crack. To regret it.

To come apart where everyone could watch. Even his best friend got in my face about it, jaw tight, almost angry. "You're seriously not going after him?" I held his eyes.

When I finally spoke, my voice was shaking, barely holding together. "Beckett.

When you ask me a question like that..." I had to stop and breathe. "...could you get off me first?" Chapter 1 Tristan walked into the party with another woman on his arm, and the first thing every single one of my friends did was check my face.

It had been three months since I'd last seen him. In our circle, that practically counted as a miracle. The girl next to me dropped her voice. "Celeste.

If it gets to be too much, make an excuse and go. And please, not tonight. It's Hayden's birthday." I smiled. Said nothing. Tristan's new girlfriend was beautiful.

The kind of beautiful that matched him. When they came in holding hands, every head in the room turned, on instinct, to me.

I just sat there, that same faint smile on my face the whole time. "Everyone, this is my girlfriend. Charlotte." On the word girlfriend, his gaze drifted lightly across my face.

My expression didn't change. The smile didn't change. I didn't so much as lift an eyebrow. He didn't look at me again. The room warmed up around us.

When the cake came out, the whole table dissolved into chaos. I used to love this part.

I'd smear frosting on somebody and then dive behind Tristan to hide, and even when he was annoyed, calling it childish, beneath him, he'd still shield me. Sometimes.

Tonight I didn't join in. But my closer friends weren't about to let me off.

They came after me with fistfuls of cake, and I dodged and laughed and ducked, and the whole time, somehow, I kept a wide, careful berth around Tristan.

By the time they gave up and went to torment someone else, there was frosting on my face, down my dress, and I was laughing, begging for mercy.

I slipped out through the crowd to go clean up. I'd barely made it through the door when Tristan called after me. "Celeste." I turned before I could think better of it.

The hallway light fell across his face and left half of it in shadow. He was close. I still couldn't read what was in his eyes. "Did you need something?" He didn't answer.

His gaze settled on my throat. "You changed your necklace?" It threw me for a second. I recovered fast. "Yeah. Changed it." The old one, I'd worn for four years.

His gift for my eighteenth birthday. Once, the favorite thing I owned.

The corner of his mouth lifted into something I couldn't quite read. "Why didn't you come to the last party?" The last party. I blanked.

And then, out of nowhere, heat climbed the back of my neck. I'd meant to go.

But Beckett had asked me out last minute, and the two of us had ditched on everyone together. "Hiding from me?" Tristan asked, idle, like it didn't matter either way. "Something came up.

I couldn't make it." He didn't seem to buy it. He didn't push, either. "What do you think of Charlotte?" I answered him honestly. "She's beautiful. Poised.

The kind of girl you can tell was raised right." He watched me without blinking. "I think so too." "So all of a sudden, I feel like getting married." "Good for you." I smiled. "Remember to send me an invitation." Tristan's mouth curved. "Of course.

You'll get the very first one. I'll hand it to you myself." Then, like he couldn't be bothered with me anymore, he turned and walked off. I didn't linger either.

I had frosting drying on my face. But just outside the restroom, I found Beckett, leaning against the wall, smoking. "Weren't you away on business?" I was surprised.

I pulled a tissue out and started wiping my cheek as I asked. Beckett crushed out the cigarette.

Watched me in the mirror, that notquitesmile on his mouth. "Got back early." "Otherwise I'd have missed the show just now." Chapter 2 I spun around, balled up the tissue, and threw it at his face. "What is that supposed to mean, Beckett." He didn't dodge.

Took it square, and looked weirdly pleased about it. "What, I'm gone two days and the two of you are already rekindling things?" "Rekindling what.

Nothing was ever lit." I shot him a look.

Beckett nodded. "Fair point." Then he stepped in close. "Hold still." "What?" He bent his head and brushed a fleck of frosting off my earlobe. "Your dress took a hit too." "I'm aware." "Bought you a new one while I was gone.

Want to try it on?" Following him up to a room, I felt a little untethered. The thing is, Beckett and I had never gotten along. He'd picked on me since we were kids.

Called me spoiled, a crybaby, and still found a reason to needle me every single day. Then I started chasing Tristan, and the whole circle made a quiet little spectacle of me.

No real malice in it. But Beckett despised the sight of me throwing myself at a man who didn't want me. For years we barely spoke.

And then one night, by some accident of too much alcohol, we ended up in bed. After that, nothing sat right anymore.

I'd deleted his number, decided we'd go the rest of our lives as strangers. But Beckett, apparently, had decided he meant it.

Last time we met, I'd fully intended to end the whole thing, clean. Somehow we ended up tangled in the sheets again instead.

And the second time was so much better than the first that, honestly, I'd started to develop a taste for it. I caught myself studying him in the elevator mirror.

An heir with a chip on his shoulder and a good face he'd done nothing to earn.

But unlike the other rich boys in our circle, Beckett came up in a military family, and spent a few years in the service himself.

The body that came out of that didn't need any defending. I thought about what was under that shirt.

About a night I'd cried and called him every name for an animal I knew, my nails dragging down his back hard enough to break skin. He hadn't gotten angry.

He'd just tried, clumsy about it, to calm me down. Something in my chest pulled tight, irritable. "Celeste." Beckett turned me around to face him. "What's going on in there?

The tips of your ears are bright red." "Thinking about your bo—" I caught myself. "How you stay in that kind of shape." I covered my face. Couldn't look at him.

But I'd already made up my mind. Tonight. The last time. When it was over, I was going to spell it out for him.

Draw the line, cut it clean, and let this secret rot quietly between the two of us, where no one would ever find it. We'd barely cleared the door when he pressed me back against it.

He had some practice now.

Enough to slide a hand behind me first, so the wood wouldn't bite into my spine. "Shower first." I got the words out between kisses, pushing weakly at his chest.

Beckett wasn't in any mood to be patient. His palm flattened against the small of my back, and one slight pull folded me into him.

He kissed me again, slower, deeper, until my knees quit on me and my heels wouldn't hold. I kicked them off and stood on his feet instead. His breathing went rough all at once.

He lifted me and carried me toward the bathroom, and the whole way there he held me close enough to bruise. Warm water came down over both of us.

Beckett took my face in his hands and kissed me, over and over. Those cold, arrogant eyes had gone soft under the heat of it. And then he looked at me.

Water slid from his jaw to mine.

Those cold eyes had gone soft, close enough that I felt the heat coming off them, and in the halfsecond before his mouth came down, I forgot how to breathe.

And for one traitor second, something in me actually moved. Chapter 3 "Celeste..." His forehead dropped to mine, my name coming out of him rough and low.

I was somewhere far away by then, my answer breaking apart in my throat.

He laced his fingers through mine and asked, hoarse, "Better than last time?" I bit down on my lip and refused to give him anything.

Just dragged my nails down the straining muscle of his arm until I left a deep red line. Then the last time was over. Beckett carried me into the bathroom to wash up.

I draped myself over the edge of the tub and watched him rinse off, hot water beating against the broad, solid line of his back, throwing up spray. Maybe it had just felt too good.

Whatever it was, the dislike I'd carried for him all these years had quietly thinned out. But I knew exactly what we were. We weren't each other's type.

Ending it early was better for both of us. He lifted me out of the tub, bundled me into a robe the size of a tent, and set me on the counter to dry my hair.

When he was done, he carried me back to the bedroom like it cost him nothing.

I slumped against his shoulder, half gone, mumbling his name. "Beckett." "Mm." "Tomorrow we stop seeing each other." "And don't come looking for me after this." "I'm gonna block you everywhere.

Texts, calls, all of it..." "And what happened between us, you take it to your grave. Nobody hears it." Beckett stopped walking. "Celeste." His voice had gone heavy.

I dragged my eyes open just long enough to look at him, and then I was asleep. He laid me down on the bed.

Stood there beside it a long moment before he gave a quiet, selfmocking laugh. "Celeste. You really don't have a heart." I didn't hear it.

The next morning, I deleted every way of reaching him, right there in front of him. He sat on the couch with nothing much on his face.

Lit a cigarette, held it between two fingers, and didn't take a single drag.

I put on the new dress he'd bought me and gave him a breezy little smile. "I'm out." After that, more than a month went by without us crossing paths. But maybe I was imagining it.

Tristan started turning up in front of me more and more.

I began turning down the gatherings that didn't matter, doing everything I could to cut the odds of ending up in the same room as him.

Until a friend got engaged, and there was no avoiding it. Tristan drank too much that night, and somewhere in it, he came apart. "Celeste.

Do you have a problem with me?" I had no idea where this was coming from. "You're drunk, Tristan. Go sit down for a while." "We've been friends for years.

You, avoiding me like this, like I did something to you." "I've just been busy lately..." "Enough, Celeste.

I know what's going on in your head." He let out a cold little laugh. "But it doesn't matter how much it eats at you.

You'll never measure up to Charlotte." I almost laughed out loud. Eats at me? "You really are drunk." I stood to go.

Tristan caught my wrist. "You used to get so jealous." "Why not now?" "Is it because you finally figured out that making a scene won't get you anywhere?" Chapter 4 I wrenched my arm free and turned, straight into the sight of Beckett a little way off, watching the whole thing with that notquitesmile.

Something hot shoved up my throat. That spectator's face of his was infuriating. Or maybe I just wanted a reason. Maybe I'd been wanting one all night. I pulled out my phone.

Beckett had sent me friend requests before, more than once, and I'd left every single one sitting there untouched. I tapped accept.

Then I typed it before I could talk myself out of it. Me: [You up for it?] He let it sit a full thirty seconds.

Beckett: [I'm in.] Beckett: [Same room as last time.] The second it landed, I blocked him again.

Beckett: [...] When the party started winding down, I said a quick goodbye, grabbed my bag, and left early. Tristan asked where I was going. I didn't answer him.

A man that proud wasn't going to chase a cold shoulder.

On my way out of the hall, I heard a few people call after Beckett. "Beckett, you're leaving too?" "Weren't we supposed to keep drinking?" "Something personal came up.

I'll host next time." Tristan got to his feet and made a show of stepping into his path. "What personal thing beats Rowan's engagement?

Where have you even been disappearing to lately?" I stayed where I was, behind a wall of greenery, watching them. Beckett had worn a sharp black suit to the party.

Standing next to Tristan, he had a couple of inches on him. Where Tristan was slim, almost slight, Beckett's frame had been beaten into shape on a base, and it showed.

I thought, despite myself, about those two nights. About the fact that he could pick me up with one arm and not set me down the whole way from the bed to the bath.

About things I had no business remembering in the middle of a banquet hall. My face went up in flames. I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek to cool it.

When I looked over at Beckett again, he seemed to feel it. His eyes cut straight to me. I took a step back on instinct, my pulse tripping.

Tristan was only getting more curious. "What is it? You're being so serious about this." "Beckett's not in love, is he?" "Right?

I've caught him glued to his phone a bunch of times." "You're actually seeing someone? Who? Do we know her?" Beckett smiled. It didn't get anywhere near his eyes.

And for no reason I could name, that smile looked lonely to me. "I'll tell you about her another time." "She's private. She's not ready to go public yet." "I'll leave it there.

I don't want her upset if it gets back to her." Tristan studied him. "Seriously?

I've never seen a single girl near you." "It's recent." Beckett held his gaze, even and steady. "When she decides she wants to go public, I'll bring her to meet all of you." "Fine, fine.

Won't keep you from your big secret." Tristan's mouth curved. "Miracles do happen." Then he lowered his voice. "So.

You seal the deal yet?" Beckett's face cooled a few degrees. "I don't talk about her like that. It's not good for her." Tristan's smile slipped.

For a second, he just looked embarrassed. And me, I stood there behind the greenery, the one person in that whole room who knew exactly which girl he wouldn't put a word on.

Watching him refuse to hand me over to a single one of them. Chapter 5 Beckett didn't drag out Tristan's embarrassment either. "I'm gonna head out.

I'll host in a couple days, we'll all get together." "Sure.

Bring your girlfriend, would you?" "Yeah, everybody's dying to meet her." Beckett smiled, said he would, and turned to go. I watched him all the way out through the revolving door.

That was when someone said it, offhand. "Huh.

Feels like the last few times, it's always Celeste and Beckett who go missing." "They're not hooking up, are they?" Tristan's face changed, fast. "Don't be ridiculous." "Beckett's hated her since they were kids.

You know how he is. Clingy girls are the one thing he can't stand." "True. Those two never could be in a room together." The conversation rolled on past it.

But I watched Tristan's eyes go to the glass doors, to the spot where Beckett had just disappeared, and stay there a beat too long. I filed that away for later.

By the time I came out of the shower, Beckett was already on the couch in the living room. "There's a second bathroom.

Why didn't you go clean up?" I asked, rubbing a towel through my hair.

He just stayed where he was, halfsunk into the cushions, watching me. "Didn't you say no more contact?" I shot him a look. "You're free to leave, then." The smile at the corner of his mouth went a little selfmocking.

But he got up anyway. He crossed to me and took the towel out of my hands. My hair's long, and I never have the patience to dry it properly. He was willing to do it.

I was happy to be waited on. He got it halfway dry before he switched off the dryer. "I'm gonna shower." "Mm." I curled into the couch and turned on the TV.

Then he leaned down out of nowhere and kissed the corner of my mouth. "Wait for me." About fifteen minutes later, the water cut off.

A moment after that, Beckett pushed the bathroom door open, a towel slung low across the lean cut of his waist. Broad shoulders, narrow hips. Skin a warm, healthy bronze.

I'd seen him plenty of times. It still put heat in my face. I let myself look, greedy about it, before I made myself glance away. He caught it. The corner of his mouth tipped up.

He rubbed the towel through his hair, dropped it, and came straight for me.

I didn't even have time to react before the floor left my feet. "Beckett—" I grabbed his neck, startled, and glared at him.

But there was a real smile in his eyes now. "Celeste." "What?" "What position do you want tonight?" Chapter 6 He asked it low, the question landing right against my ear, his breath tangling with mine in the inch of space between us.

Somehow it came out tender instead of crude. When I spoke again, my voice had gone soft. "Like you'd even know that many." Beckett looked downright pleased. "I studied.

After last time." "You're shameless. Of all the things to put your mind to." "Want to find out?" I played it cool. My pulse was already a mess. "Sure.

And if I'm not impressed, I'll find a replacement—" He kissed me before I got the rest out. Hard. The end of the sentence dissolved into a sound I swallowed down.

He kissed me deep, heavy, and by the time we reached the bed he had me pressed into it. The tie of my robe gave under his hands.

Rough hands, calloused, the kind the service leaves behind. He was heavier tonight, and a low sound got out of me before I could stop it.

His breathing went ragged. "Celeste..." His eyes were dark with it, his voice scraped raw. "Why is it different this time?" I looked up at him, hazy, not following.

He couldn't seem to stand the way I was looking at him. His mouth went lower, and the room narrowed to heat and the drag of breath. Somewhere a curtain lifted on a draft.

My body answered him before I'd decided to. "Do you like it, Celeste?" I shook my head, teeth set in my lip, refusing him the word.

But the corners of my eyes had already gone wet, without my permission. He didn't push too far. He just asked.

And every time I wouldn't answer, he pressed in, hard, once. "Still going to block me, Celeste