I press the code into the call box at their gate, knowing it since I’ve been here several times over the years, then pull through, stopping behind Micaela’s vehicle. I slam the truck into park, turn the ignition off, and jump out. I bang on the door, and several seconds later, it swings open.
Bella. Her eyes widen knowingly, but I don’t ask her shit. I don’t want to hear it from her. I want to hear it from Micaela herself.
“I’d like to speak to Micaela, please,” I grit out, trying to remain polite.
She nods once. “Come in.” I step inside, but before she can call for Micaela, she comes waddling out of the kitchen, her eyes on the slice of pizza she’s consuming and her phone in her other hand. She doesn’t spot me at first, and I use the moment to take her in. She’s strikingly beautiful. Her hair is up in her signature messy bun, exposing her slim neck, the same neck I kissed and sucked on. She’s wearing a shirt that says Mama in the making and tight leggings that cover her legs. Her feet are bare—the same feet I trailed kisses across.
My eyes go back to the shirt, to what’s under the shirt. The reason for the saying on the shirt, the reason why she’s waddling. There’s a large bump—a bump that only comes from a woman being pregnant.
“Is it mine?” I blurt out.
Micaela’s gaze shoots up, her eyes turning into saucers. The pizza is hanging out of her mouth, and in shock, she drops her phone. She scrambles to pick it up, but her belly is big and she can’t bend easily. Her mom rushes over and picks it up, then takes the pizza and plate from her, setting it on the counter.
“Ryan,” Micaela breathes, stunned frozen in place. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
Her question rubs me the wrong way. “I asked you a fucking question.” I step toward her. “Is the baby mine?”
Her eyes dart from her mom to me, and then she nods. “Yes,” she whispers, at least having the decency to look ashamed.
“Do my parents know?” There’s no way they would know she was carrying my baby and keep that from me.
“No,” she says, confirming my thoughts. “They just know I’m pregnant.”
“Did you know?” I ask Marco, who has just stepped into the room, joining his wife and daughter. “Did you?” I glance at Bella. “Did you guys know your daughter was pregnant with my fucking baby?”
“You need to calm down,” Marco says, stepping toward me. Judging by how calm he is, he either knew, or he’s putting on a damn good front pretending not to be shocked.
“Fuck calming down,” I boom. “She’s pregnant with my fucking kid.” I look over at Micaela. “Why don’t my parents know?”
Micaela swallows thickly. “Nobody, besides my parents, Lexi, and Georgia, knows you’re the dad.”
“Were you going to ever tell me?” I ask, my fists clenching at my sides.
“I—” Tears prick her eyes, and normally that would have me trying to comfort her. While we spent time together, I would’ve done anything to make sure she didn’t shed a single tear. But I’m too pissed right now.
“Don’t you fucking cry,” I bark, stalking up to her.
Marco steps between us. “You need to calm down,” he repeats.
I get in his face, towering a good four inches over him. “Don’t fucking tell me to calm down. I just found out the woman I slept with is pregnant and didn’t even have the decency to tell me.”
I step around Marco, so I’m face-to-face with the woman who’s been keeping secrets. “Were you going to keep my baby from me?” I don’t give her a chance to answer. “Tell him he has no father? Or that his didn’t want him?”
She shakes her head, tears coursing down her cheeks.
“Fuck, Micaela. I came from a home where my parents didn’t want me. I was adopted because they chose drugs over me. How the fuck could you do this?”
I point my finger at Marco. “You of all people should understand. She”—I jab my finger toward Bella—“kept her”—I point at Micaela—“from you.”
“That’s enough!” Marco barks. “One, you need to keep my wife the hell out of this. And two, nobody was keeping the baby from you.”
“No? Then explain to me why she’s standing there nine fucking months pregnant and I’m only just finding out about it. And only because my mom told me!”
There’s a gasp from behind me, and when I turn around, my parents are standing in the doorway. My mom’s covering her mouth with her hands, and my dad is glaring at Marco.
“The baby is yours?” Mom asks, walking farther into the room. She directs her next question at Micaela. “That baby is my son’s and you weren’t going to tell him?” She looks at Bella, confusion and anger in her eyes. “How could you?”