Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(100)
“And for every ultrasound, I’m gonna fly to New York or DC or wherever it is you’re living at the time. And I’m gonna be there when this baby comes. And during all that, through all that I’m gonna prove to you that this thing I’m feeling is real. And then I’m gonna make you fall in love with me too.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Black Knights Inc., Third Floor
Four weeks later
“So?” Ozzie asked, plopping himself beside Dan on the sofa in the television room. Ozzie had traded his crutches for a rather dapper cane—and kept threatening everyone at BKI that he was going to start wearing a top hat too—but his leg was still encased in a thick brace. After propping his foot up on the coffee table, he pulled a bottle of ginger ale from the pocket of his T-shirt and handed it to Dan. Then he hauled out the bottle of Honker’s Ale he’d stowed in his waistband and popped the top. “How did the ultrasound go?” he asked. “Are we talking a tallywhacker or a vajayjay?”
Dan took a sip of ginger ale and frowned. “The technician couldn’t get the right angle. The baby had its legs crossed. So we’re still in the dark on the sex.”
“Mmm.” Ozzie tilted the bottle. The smell of barley and hops was delicious and tickled Dan’s nose, but he no longer yearned for the hooch like he used to. So either his AA meetings were working, or he just had far more important things on his mind. Like the fact that Penelope Ann DePaul was the most stubborn, irritating, wonderful woman on the whole goddamned planet. “Well, it’s more fun not knowing,” Ozzie said. “I like surprises.”
“So do I,” Dan admitted. “But Penni’s a planner.”
“Since you brought her up,” Ozzie said, not even attempting to be subtle, “how is Penni?”
Dan took another drink of ginger ale and tried not to squeeze the bottle so hard he broke it. “Beautiful,” he admitted. “She’s has that glow that expecting women get. And she’s starting to show. You can feel the baby move now too. I mean, it’s a flutter, but still.”
He’d been true to his word. He called her every Tuesday and Friday at 9 p.m. sharp. He asked after her health and the health of the baby. He talked about personal things and mundane things. Then before he signed off, he reminded her that he had fallen in love with her, that he wanted to be with her, and that he wanted a chance to make them a real family. And he’d thought he was making progress. Each successive call was less stilted and weird, and the comfort they’d shared with each other from the beginning, the easy way they were together had started to slip back into their conversations—which lasted two, sometimes three hours.
He’d hoped when he flew to DC to be with her for the ultrasound that things would progress even further. But she was still holding back, holding off, not trusting him to know his own mind, his own heart. And for that, he wanted to throttle her. Or kiss her senseless. Sometimes it was hard to tell which he wanted to do first, which he wanted to do more. And it’d occurred to him that this was why he’d had that portentous sense of doom on the sidewalk in Cusco, that feeling that something awful would happen if he made a wrong move with her.
And, roger that, giving her a nickname so he wouldn’t accidentally yell out his dead wife’s name while they were doing the deed definitely qualified as a wrong move. One she was attaching far too much credence to. One she just would. Not. Let. Go. Even though he’d explained himself a million times, and despite the fact that he sworn on the Bible, the Constitution, and his mother’s grave that he would never call her Brooklyn again. Although, in actuality, he’d continued to use the nickname after Malaysia not because he didn’t want to slip up, but because he thought it was sweet and special and something just between them. He’d explained that too. But she was still having none of it.
Fuuuuuuuck! It’d only been a month, but his frustration was reaching disheartening proportions.
“Mazel tov,” Ozzie said, clinking the neck of his beer bottle against Dan’s ginger ale. “So when are you going back to Washington to see her?”
“Because the baby is healthy, the doc says she won’t need another ultrasound before delivery,” Dan told him. He’d read What to Expect When You’re Expecting two times, cover to cover. And given his newfound expertise in pregnancy, he could say that Penni’s pregnancy was progressing just as it should. He was so relieved, so goddamned happy about it that sometimes he thought he might break into impromptu song and dance. He was going to be a father! How amazing! How wonderful! He was over the moon! “So I told Penni I’d be flying in to check on her every two weeks whether she wants me there or not. It’s my kid too, damnit.”
“Right on.” Ozzie nodded. “I’m with you. Do whatever you have to do to get back where you need to be with her. And in the meantime, you can continue to succor yourself by performing self-love.”
Dan felt the tips of his ears heat. He got very still before slowly, deliberately turning to face Ozzie. The asshat was wearing a shit-eating grin. “What the f*ck, man?” he demanded.
“Hey.” Ozzie lifted his hands. “It’s not like I was eavesdropping on purpose. My leg was killing me one night last week, so I got up to come in here and watch some TV. When I passed by your room, I heard heavy breathing.”