Love, Marriage, and a Baby Carriage Read online

  “Does she know you’re—well, whatever direction you swing?” I asked.

  Wesley chuckled. “Bi. Yeah, she knows. I’ve been open to meeting whomever, man or woman, but she insisted WaddleCon was the place to be.”

  “It’s such a stupid name. WaddleCon.”

  “It’s awful,” Wesley agreed.

  I laughed and sipped my very expensive white wine that he had insisted on. I guess being a model paid the bills quite well.

  “So tell me about this suit,” he said with a nod in my direction.

  I groaned and set my glass down. “I thought I’d buy some nice clothes for the event, and the dude helping me came up with this. I have a suitcase full of this crap. Well, I did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Airline lost my bag. I guess I’ll be using the hotel laundry service.”

  Wesley smiled to himself, taking a bite of his fish before saying, “I can always help.”

  I gave him a puzzled look.

  “I’ve a few ideas that’ll require you naked. Then you won’t need to bother with laundry. Although I really do think you look cute in this getup.”

  Had the restaurant gotten a few degrees hotter?

  I cleared my throat, pushing dinner around with my fork. “So says the guy who models suits for a living.”

  “Not usually,” Wesley answered.

  “No?”

  “Underwear.”

  I scoffed. “Liar.”

  He shrugged, leaned back to pull his phone from his coat, and scrolled for a moment before bringing up a photo of him very much naked, except for a pair of formfitting and sexy boxer briefs.

  I was ready to go buy a dozen pairs.

  “W-What were those ideas you had?” I managed to ask.

  Wesley laughed heartily and put his phone away. “You’ll see. I thought a walk on the beach after this would be nice.”

  “Can you read minds?”

  “Am I reading yours?” he countered.

  “Plagiarizing it,” I answered. I set my napkin aside and stood. “I’ll be right back. Bathroom.” I excused myself and hurried down a hall.

  The image of Wesley in his underwear, those eyes bearing his soul for the camera, his full mouth so sexy—I needed to cool down. I stopped at the door to the men’s room, but there was an Out of Service sign posted, advising guests to use the family restroom, which was already occupied.

  Frowning, I stuffed my hands into my pockets, my leg shaking impatiently. A guy just needs a second to compose himself out of view from polite company, and the bathroom’s—

  The door was thrown open suddenly, and a woman in a tight, bright red dress left in a rush.

  I watched her before grabbing the swinging door and stepping inside. I went to the sink, ran the cold water, and splashed my face. I was twenty-five and a virgin, looking for my forever partner. As much as I hated to admit it, I was as horny as the rest of the people here, maybe just more self-conscious about it. I studied my face in the mirror, watching the water drip from my chin. I felt like I had “fuck me” written on my forehead, and I didn’t need Wesley to think I wanted to give it up to him just because he was the only man around interested in another guy.

  I rubbed my forehead. No words smudged.

  I thought of that picture again. I didn’t usually get hot and bothered by underwear ads. I mean, yeah, awesome for hot guys in various states of undress, but I never had to excuse myself to the bathroom because of it.

  I reached over for a few paper towels and dried my hands before pulling out my phone. Looking up “Wesley O’Neill, model” brought instant results. If I read fashion magazines at all, I probably would have recognized his face, because he seemed to be in everything. And yes, mostly underwear, but he had swimsuit photos, and more than a few gorgeous spreads of him in the latest and greatest suit style.

  But it really wasn’t just Wesley’s smoldering eyes or killer abs. As Mom would say, I could feel it in my gut.

  It was that little smile, the unguarded expression not for the camera where I could see bits of uncertainty or hope in his features. It was his lovely personality that shone throughout dinner, and how I wanted to learn more about him. It was how, when I talked, he leaned into the conversation as if I were the most interesting thing in the room.

  That made me grin like an idiot, and I dried my face before pocketing my phone and tossing the paper towels. Something in the bin caught my eye, and I gingerly reached back in to pick up my towel, seeing an egg.

  A startled squeak escaped my throat, and I tossed the towel back. I clutched my arms to my chest, as if I had just seen the biggest cockroach in my life and it was wielding a knife. I held my breath, waiting.

  Nothing happened. Of course.

  Hesitantly I took the paper off again and touched the egg. It was still warm.

  Someone had started enjoying WaddleCon a little early.

  “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.” I looked around the room. “What do I do? What do I do—fuck!” I grabbed a handful of paper towels and gently took the egg out of the trash, holding it to my chest with the paper to cushion it.

  Okay. A minor bump in the so far perfect date.

  If I could reach the convention security staff and explain what I’d found, they’d take care of it.

  I mean, I didn’t lay it! It wasn’t my problem!

  Only it was a problem because this was way against the rules. We didn’t just casually sleep around. It wasn’t how it worked. Once you had a forever partner, that was that. So if there was an egg left behind as garbage, someone had to have been afraid of the consequences, should it be found.

  I looked down at it.

  They threw their baby in the trash!

  And were cheating!

  I bolted out the door and rushed through the room of diners to our table by the windows. “Wes. Wes!” I hissed loudly, dropping into my chair. “Problem.”

  He gave me a concerned look. “Are you all right? You’re sweating. Do you not feel well?”

  I glanced around briefly before raising up the egg in the pile of papers.

  It took a minute, but then his eyes grew as big as saucers behind his glasses. “What did you do?” he whispered. “Holy shit! You said you were gay! But you’re—you have a-a—?”

  I shook my head frantically. “It’s not mine!”

  “It’s in your hands!” Wesley retorted, leaning low over the tabletop.

  I looked around to see our whispers were not so quiet and a few folks were glancing in our direction. “I found it,” I insisted. “In the bathroom.”

  “What?”

  “In the trash. It was in the trash!”

  He smacked his face instinctively, clearly forgetting he was wearing glasses and smudging them with fingerprints. He grumbled and pulled them off while taking a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the lenses.

  “You know what this means, right?” I asked him, frowning as he looked up and replaced his glasses. “Someone here is cheating. And they just… just….” I struggled to say anything else, only held up the egg again to emphasize what I could not.

  Wesley waved his hand and nodded. “Hide that,” he said, waiting until I put my hands under the tablecloth. “We just need to tell the event organizers.”

  “Do you think they’ll keep it safe?”

  Wesley hesitated. “They would have to.”

  Penguin infidelity. Sometimes it was still a wild, cruel world.

  “It was in the men’s room?” he asked.

  “What? No, the family room. The men’s room was closed.”

  “Was the room empty when you went in?”

  “No, there was—” That woman. What if? “A lady in a red dress came out. She was in a rush.”

  “Red dress?” Wesley repeated, already looking around the room. “We should confront her first. It’s her problem. She needs to take responsibility. A penguin chick will hatch, then change to human form until it’s older, and that can’t be seen outside of Magell socie
ty.” He turned back to me. “Why don’t you go outside? I’ll pay the bill and meet you.”

  “You sure?”

  Wesley nodded while motioning a waiter over. “Promise. Two minutes, okay?”

  I agreed and quickly left the table, trying to walk without drawing attention to the bulge of paper towels in my arms.

  The San Diego night was cool, with a salty breeze stirring the air. I stepped away from the main door, lurking off to the side by some potted plants and watching other convention attendees wandering about in groups of friends. I should have been finishing wine with Wesley and taking a long walk on the beach right then. Maybe even take a dip in the water in true form. I liked swimming, cutting through the waves and diving deep….

  But no, there I was with my little trash baby, and the mother a million miles away without a care in the world.

  Then I watched her come around the corner, carrying her stilettos as she stomped barefoot across the pavement.

  Never mind on that last thought.

  I took a step away from the plants and went toward her but stopped when a man came around the bend in a rush.

  “I’m just here with friends!” she exclaimed.

  “No, you’re not, Clara! Someone said they saw you with—with another man! Who is he? Why’d you do it?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Steven!” Clara barked.

  Serious drama and it was only Friday night.

  “Theodore! Hey.” Wesley jogged out the front door to my side. “Ready to go find her?”

  I pointed at the two strangers in the middle of the driveway. “That’s her.”

  “Oh. Well, that was easy,” Wesley murmured. He put his hand on my back and nudged me forward with him. “Come on.”

  “Why would you do this to me?” Steven pleaded.

  Clara scoffed and put her hands on her hips. “I don’t have any idea what you mean. There isn’t anyone else. I’m just here—supporting friends.”

  “Clara!” he exclaimed.

  “Er, excuse me,” I piped up.

  They both turned to glare daggers at who interrupted their marital dispute.

  “Sorry. I, uh—”

  “Ma’am,” Wesley said, taking the lead for me. “I think you forgot this.”

  I quickly held up the egg.

  There was a split second of silence.

  The calm before the storm.

  Then the trouble really began.

  Steven suddenly roared. “You both slept with my wife?”

  “We what?” I asked blankly, the accusation taking a second too long to sink in.

  “I’ll throw that thing in the ocean!” Steven screamed as he lunged at me.

  Wesley shoved me aside, and I crashed to the ground, cradling the egg close and taking the beating from the pavement. Wesley meanwhile was grappled by Steven, and he put up a brief, good fight before Steven punched him in the face and broke his glasses.

  “Son of a bitch!” Wesley shouted as he stumbled back.

  “You’re both dead!” Steven declared.

  I scrambled to my feet and grabbed Wesley by the coat. “Run! Run! Come on!” I took his hand and shot down the driveway, dragging him behind me.

  “That bastard punched me in the face!” Wesley exclaimed, disbelief in his voice.

  “The egg is okay!” I shouted over my shoulder.

  “Oh good!” he said sarcastically. “I’m blind as a bat without glasses, you know!”

  I skidded sideways and took a sharp turn to cut through the resort’s pool and Jacuzzi area when I could still hear Steven’s voice not far behind. I jumped over pool noodles laying out on the concrete, Wesley scrambling over them. I led us out the far gate and through a dark parking lot to another complex where several of the hotel rooms were located.

  “There they are!” Steven’s voice called in the distance.

  I dared a look over my shoulder to see half a dozen men chasing us. “Shit!”

  “What?” Wesley looked back. “I see blobs! What’s wrong?”

  “He’s got reinforcements!”

  “Holy fucking hell!”

  Panicking, I ducked behind what seemed like a groundskeeper’s shed and circled back the way we’d come. I pulled Wesley into the nearest building as the group ran past. I let out a heaving breath of relief.

  “Can I help you gentlemen?” a confused woman at the counter asked.

  I waved my hand. “N-No. No thanks.” Where were we? Oh. A gift shop. “We’re good. Just, er—browsing.”

  Wesley doubled over, hands on his knees. “What just happened?” he asked between breaths.

  “We were mistaken for being in a three-way with Clara, I think.”

  “Who?”

  “That’s her name,” I answered, taking another deep breath.

  Wesley straightened and rubbed his face. “Where’d the cavalry come from?”

  “Maybe they were waiting just around the corner to help if he needed it?” I looked down at the egg. I had lost most of the paper towels in the run. “We can’t let him destroy this.”

  “He tried to beat the shit out of us,” Wesley said. “This is not how I planned for our night to turn out. We’re giving that egg to security and washing our hands of it.”

  “But, Wes,” I retorted. “It’s just a baby.”

  “No, no, no. It’s not our baby.”

  I moved past Wesley to a scarf display. “I guess you can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl yet,” I said, holding up different scarves to the egg.

  Wesley was still trying to catch his breath, hands resting on his hips. “What?”

  “How about green,” I suggested to no one in particular, taking the shimmering material from the hook.

  “You can’t be serious, Theodore.”

  “To keep it warm,” I protested.

  “Theo. It’s not—”

  “Hey, they have glasses here,” I said, grabbing a pair from a rack and offering them.

  Wesley groped for my hand, took the frames, put them on briefly, and gave me a glare that was actually really funny, and I had to fight to keep a straight face. “These are reading glasses.”

  “No good?”

  “I’m near-sighted.”

  “I always hated that they’re called the opposite of what you think.”

  Wesley grumbled under his breath and went to the glasses display to inspect the strength levels of the lenses available.

  I went to the counter and set down the scarf, then a pack of gum, as well as a San Diego postcard from the nearby rack that read WISH YOU WERE HERE! I offered the clerk a big, stupid smile.

  Wesley came up beside me wearing a pair of glasses, the tag still hanging from the frame.

  “Find everything you need?” she asked slowly, eyeing us both.

  “Yes, thank you,” I said.

  Wesley grunted.

  “WHY THE postcard?” Wesley asked.

  We were standing outside the back side of the gift shop, looking at the ocean.

  Wesley ripped the tag from his new glasses before putting them back on.

  “For the baby.”

  “For the—what?”

  I was carefully wrapping the egg in the scarf. “It’s kind of cute. We found it in San Diego… wish you were here… hasn’t hatched yet.” I looked up and hesitated at Wesley’s expression. “Not cute?”

  “It’s not ours, Theodore. I keep saying that.”

  “Yeah, but….” I looked at the egg. “It kind of feels like it,” I admitted.

  Wesley moved to stand in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders. “I haven’t even kissed you yet, and you want to talk about adopting?”

  I winced, but when I looked up, he was smiling. “I always wanted to be a dad.”

  “Me too. Only not like this.” Wesley moved one hand to my chin, tilting it more before leaning in and pressing his mouth to mine.

  His lips were soft and gentle. He tasted of the wine from dinner, with the faintest hint of salt from the
air. Wesley slipped his tongue into my mouth, and the shock of pleasure was so sudden, I dropped the egg.

  Wesley broke away with a start, fumbling and catching it. “Theo!”

  “I’m sorry! I’ve never been kissed by a guy! I didn’t know it’d feel that good!”

  “My God, this is a train wreck.” Wesley straightened, holding the egg against his chest.

  “Warn me next time.”

  Wesley opened his mouth to speak but then made a shushing sound and held a hand up.

  I listened, hearing the come and go of the waves, faraway laughter of guests, the start of an engine in the parking lot. “What?” I whispered.

  Then I heard what he did.

  “If what you’re saying is true, Mr. Stewart, this is a serious infraction and we will remove the guests in question from WaddleCon immediately,” said a voice that spoke with the authority of convention security. “Although… your wife must also be asked to leave. This is an event for singles only.”

  “Yes, yes,” Steven barked. “I understand!”

  Wesley passed the egg back to me and pressed close, practically draping himself over me. “Around the other side,” he whispered.

  I nodded and grabbed his hand again, leading the way to slowly come up behind the group walking along the road and making their way by the gift shop. I thought they’d keep going, but the security person stopped and went inside.

  “I think he went in to ask about us,” I said.

  “Come on,” Wesley urged. “Back this way!”

  “B-But my hotel room is the opposite direction,” I answered.

  “We can’t go over there.”

  Wesley led the way—well, I steered him a bit from behind—running to the other side of the road and ducking behind a low wall to creep along a garden when the security man’s voice called out that two men had just left the gift shop. He dragged me across the grass, stepping on flowering plants he probably didn’t see, and we made our way along a row of rooms. The hum of air conditioners filled the night air around us. Ahead, two hotel staff dressed as room cleaners were smoking cigarettes. They had their backs turned to the cleaning cart at the end of the sidewalk.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Wesley muttered, pulling me closer.

  “What’re you doing?”