Chapter Twenty-eight: Quinn

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Quinn

“Can you tell?” I smooth my shirt over my stomach and turn to the side.

“No.” Marissa shakes her head. “I know you and you’ve always been a skinny bitch, so I guess I’m able to pick up on that slight bump you claim is the baby, but to anyone else, you look like you ate a big meal.”

“It’s weird,” I say, wrinkling my nose, and grab my shoes. I take off my heels and put on my running shoes, not caring how silly it looks with my dress pants and blouse. It’s Friday, and we’re leaving work for the week. “I’m almost looking forward to showing.”

“Just don’t turn into Bethany.”

I widen my eyes and shake my head, showing my horror. “If I do, slap me.” Bethany works with us and had her first baby last year. She made sure everyone knew everything about the pregnancy and complained nonstop about her symptoms. Though I can emphasize now, and after throwing up three times yesterday, I broke down and took an anti-nausea pill this morning.

I still feel sick, but I haven’t puked. It’s a small victory, but I’ll take it.

“Your brother still won’t talk to Archer?” Marissa asks.

I shake my head. “Nope. And now Kara won’t reply to my texts since she realized my due date and her wedding date don’t exactly mesh.”

“Ouch.”

I close my office door, locking it behind me. Marissa and I head to the elevators. “I get it, though. It’s terrible timing. What happens if I go into labor on her wedding day? I told my mom she’s to stay at the wedding if it happens, but it’ll be a big distraction for everyone.”

“And she’s not going to move her date?”

I shake my head. “Nope. The place she wants to get married at is booked solid until the next year.”

“Can you call and bribe someone?”

“I didn’t think of that. I think I will.”

“I was joking.” Marissa pressed the elevator button. “But if it works…”

“Right? Anything to quell the drama.”

We step into the elevator. “Are you all packed and ready for your weekend with the sexy doctor?”

“I am. I just have to stop by home and check on my cats before I head out.”

“You’re so lame.”

“Hey,” I say, trying hard to sound offended. “I love my kitties.”

“Your other kitty is going to be happier.”

I laugh. “Oh yeah, it will be.”

*

Archer got called into emergency surgery and is sending his friend Sam to come pick me up from the airport. He apologized over and over, and while I’m anxious to see him, I don’t mind. It comes with the territory of dating a doctor.

Sam is nice, a bit talkative, and if he’s Archer’s friend, then I want to get to know him too. We pick up Chinese takeout on the way home, and I order extra for Archer.

“Make yourself at home,” Sam tells me when we step into the apartment. I take a quick second to look around. Everything is nice and neat with minimal decorations. Archer told me he always viewed this place as temporary, knowing he’d leave after he finished at the hospital here and finds a permanent position.

Sam sits on the couch, setting his food on the coffee table. I follow suit and take a seat on the opposite side.

“Do you like Game of Thrones?” he asks, picking up the remote.

“Do I like Game of Thrones?” I echo. “Do I like breathing? Yes!”

“I’ve been watching the behind-the-scenes footage.”

“Oh, I love that stuff! It always amazes me to see all the work they put into it.”

An hour later, we’re coming up with names for our houses, and Archer walks in. His face lights up when he sees me, and he rushes over. I stand and throw my arms around him. He brushes my hair back and kisses me, sending a jolt right through me.

“I brought you food,” I tell him, sliding my hands over his arms. “But do you want to have sex first?”

“I’m officially jealous,” Sam laughs. “She’s a good one, Jones.”

Archer picks me up in a swift swoop, answering my question with another kiss. He carries me into his bedroom, and we fall onto his bed together.

“I missed you,” Archer says, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I missed you too.” I shimmy out of my leggings. “I think the hormones are kicking in harder or something. All I can think about is sex right now.”

Archer gives me a cocky grin. “It’s because I’m so good at it.”

I nod. “You are. But don’t go and get complacent on me. I told you, I have very high standards.”

“I aim to please.” He grabs my ankles and pulls me to the edge of the bed. He drops onto the floor, kneeling between my thighs.

“If you fucking tease me tonight, Archer Jones, I might murder you.”

He smirks and slowly kisses his way up my thigh. His fingers dance over my panties, pressing oh-so gently against my clit. I lay back, body humming with anticipation. Archer takes his sweet time, kissing my thighs, making me squirm as he trails his nails up and down my legs.

“Archer,” I moan, reaching down and taking a tangle of his hair in my fingers. I guide his head back between my legs and arch my back. He grabs the sides of my panties and pulls them down, dropping them onto the floor.

“Take your shirt off,” he tells me. “I want to watch you undress.”

I give him a coy smile and sit up, moving back onto the bed. Slowly, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it at Archer. I run my hands over my breasts, pushing my bra straps off my shoulders one at a time.

And then Archer advances, taking me in his arms. He kisses me and unhooks my bra with one hand. We lay back, and I scramble to remove his boxers and pants. His cock is hard, and the tip is wet with precum. I wrap my fingers around his big dick, spreading the wetness down his shaft. Archer relishes my touch, eyes falling shut as I stroke him.

He moves away, pushing me back onto the mattress and kisses his way to my pussy, tongue lashing out as soon as he gets there. I fall back, letting out a moan as he gets to work. It doesn’t take long before I come, writhing against him as wetness spills from me. Archer doesn’t let up and moves his mouth faster. I’m so sensitive, so overtaken by pleasure that I push him away.

He grabs my wrists, pinning them down against the mattress as he continues to eat me out until I come again, even harder than before.

“I don’t do complacent,” he pants, slowly moving over top of me. My heart is still racing, pussy spasming, and I’m seeing stars. There was nothing complacent about that. Not at all.

“And by the way.” He tips my chin to the side and kisses my neck. “I’m not done with you yet.”

He moves on top of me, nuzzling my neck and playing with my breasts. I’m still floating in bliss, body on overdrive. Feebly, I wrap my arms around Archer, feeling every pound of muscle beneath my fingers. I feel closer to Archer than ever before, and it’s not just because of the two intense orgasms he gave me. He gets me, and I’m starting to think I get him too.

It’s complicated, trying to sort out my feelings for the man who’s fathering my child. The man I’ve had an innocent crush on since the day I saw him. I want us to work out. I’m falling for Archer, and though I’m doing my best to resist, I can’t fight gravity.

Archer lines his cock up with my core, and I widen my legs as he enters me. He moans, pushing that big dick all the way inside, then circles his hips, hitting me in the right spot.

I don’t know how he does it every single time.

“Ohhh,” I groan. “That feels so good, Archer.”

He likes when I say his name during sex. I’ve never been much of a dirty-talker, and usually would turn into a giggling mess if I tried, but nothing is awkward with Archer.

“Fuck me harder,” I pant, and Archer responds with an animalistic growl and thrusts in harder and faster, not stopping until I’m coming again. He holds his cock inside me, waiting until I’m finished, and then pulls out and picks me up, turning me over and pushing me down on all fours.

It’s the most forceful he’s ever been with me, and fuck, I love it. He enters me from behind, pushing his cock in and out with fury. He reaches around, fingers sweeping over my clit. His touch is soft and gentle, knowing I’m already at the point of no return. Moving his fingers in swift circles, he slows his movements until another orgasm takes over.

He grabs me by the waist and fucks me hard, falling against me as he climaxes. We both collapse onto the mattress after that.

“I counted four orgasms,” he pants, taking my hand.

“Are you keeping score?” I ask, breasts rapidly rising and falling as I gulp in air.

“Maybe.” He smiles and rolls over so we’re facing each other and places his hand on my ass. “It’s fun when I win like this.”

“If that was me losing, I’m a lucky girl.”

He smiles, kisses my forehead, and gets up to get a towel for me to clean up with. He gets back into bed and covers us with a blanket.

“Are you tired?” I ask, curling up in his arms.

“Yeah. It was a long day. I know you are.” He flattens his hand over my stomach. “You’re growing a person. Our person.”

*

“Sex and sleep pretty much make up our relationship,” I muse, nestling in deeper into Archer’s embrace. It’s Sunday morning, and I’m feeling too queasy for sex right now, but could easily fall back asleep.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not. Give me a few more weeks and we can probably throw in eating.”

“Sex, food, and sleep. Sounds pretty perfect to me.” He pushes my messy hair back out of my face. “But next weekend when I’m in Chicago, let’s do something else. I still plan on having plenty of sex though.”

“Oh, me too. What do you want to do?”

“I’ve always wanted to go to the Science Museum there, unless you think that’s lame.”

“I love the museum. You can really come next weekend?”

“Yeah. And if you want to hook me up with your private jet connection, I wouldn’t object.”

I laugh. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“I was joking. I don’t mind driving, actually.”

“It’ll get old.”

“We won’t be making that drive forever,” he says and then stops short, realizing what he’s insinuating. He tried to bring it up a few times, and my parents keep pestering me about it. I’m only eight weeks, and a lot of women wait until they’re out of the first trimester to start any sort of planning.

“I know.” I swallow the lump in my throat, debating if I should take another pill or not. There are so many things on the ‘do not eat or use’ list for pregnancy, I’m scared just to breathe. “What about your parents? You haven’t told them yet, have you?”

He tenses. “No. But I will.”

“Are you worried they’ll be mad?”

“They won’t be. My mom will be pretty excited, I’m sure. And they’ll love you.”

I nod, not understanding why he hasn’t told them yet. “Are they still in Michigan?”

“They live there,” he says hesitantly. “But they’re…they’re out of town. I’ll tell them when they get back. I thought we could all go out for lunch together or something.”

“I’d like that.” There’s more we need to talk about on the subject, but before I can delve into it, I groan, not sure if I’m going to win or lose this morning sickness battle.

“Feeling sick?”

I push up, nodding.

“What can I do?” Archer’s hand lands on my back.

“Can you get me some water?”

“Of course, babe.” He gets out of bed and heads out of the room.

“And Sour Patch Kids, if there are any left.”

“I think you ate them all, but I’ll go get you some.”

I feel like I’m about to throw up stomach bile, but I smile, heart skipping a beat. My hand lands on my stomach. “You have a good daddy,” I whisper. “I think things are going to work out after all.”

Leaning back against the pillows, I close my eyes and think about anything else other than the sick feeling in my stomach. Archer comes back with a glass of cold water, remembering me telling him ice cold water seems to help for some strange reason.

“Do you want to take one?” Archer asks, holding up a pill bottle.

I make a face. “I need your honest opinion, not your doctor one. Do you think it’s okay to take?”

“This is commonly prescribed—sorry. That’s a doctor opinion. My honest opinion is if you can get by without it, then don’t take it. But if you need to, then take it.”

“That doesn’t help me much.”

“I know. Sorry. You need to be able to eat and keep food down for obvious reasons, and feeling like you’re on the verge of puking all day is pretty fucking awful. I want you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” I say honestly. “Even with all the drama going on, I am happy.”

Archer moves back into his spot next to me. “Good. Because I’m happy too. I know things happened out of order, but I’m glad we’re together.”

I take another sip of water, set the glass down, and rest my head against Archer’s shoulder. “This could go on for another month.” I reach for the water again, not sure how I can make it through four more weeks of throwing up.

“It’s kind of crazy that’s all there’s left in the first trimester,” Archer says. “It’ll probably go by fast.” He’s trying to comfort me, not cause me to panic. The first trimester will be over before we know it, and we’ll be that much closer to the due date and needing to figure things out.

On a rational level, I know I need to process everything. I’m a logical person. A problem solver. I know I can’t ignore something and make it go away.

But I’m so fucking scared.

“If you feel better later, do you want to go out and see the city? I still feel bad for yesterday. I hope you weren’t too bored sitting around here waiting for me to get off work.”

“I told you I wasn’t. Going through all your personal possessions kept me busy.”

“Too bad I keep all my incriminating stuff in a storage locker.”

“So that’s what the weird little key is for. You’re busted now, Dr. Jones.” Speaking of Dr. Jones, my eyes go to the Indiana Jones hat I got for Archer as a joke. He has it on his dresser, and his room is too neat and tidy for it to have just been discarded there.

“Though really, I wasn’t bored yesterday. I hung out with Sam in the morning, and then I worked on building a laptop.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to even think about work.”

“I don’t, and I didn’t. I’ve been working on this gaming PC for a while and haven’t had much time to devote to it lately. I used to build them all the time in my youth. It’s like my comfort food now since real food makes me vomit.”

“Building a computer is comfort food?”

“I told you I’m a nerd.”

“You really are,” he says with a smile and grabs his phone, turning it off silent. His on-call hours start soon. “I’m making breakfast. What do you want?”

“An omelet.”

“You’re still craving eggs?”

“Yeah. It’s so weird.”

Archer’s lips curve into a smile. “I think it’s pretty damn cool. You’re growing a person in there, and it’s making you crave things you normally don’t like. It was a little ball of cells and now it has a heartbeat and an influence over what you eat. You say you’re a nerd, but you haven’t heard me get excited about biology yet. I have a degree in biology if you didn’t know. I’m sure that turns you on.”

“It does. And since you love biology so much, you should give me a lesson.”

“I plan to at least one more time before you have to leave.” He kisses me and tells me to lay back down while he makes breakfast. I snuggle up under the covers, loving how the blankets smell like Archer’s cologne. I doze off, waking up only when Archer comes back into the bedroom. He’s carrying two plates of food, and it smells delicious.

I push myself up, fluffing the pillow behind my back. “I wonder if I’ll still like eggs when I’m not pregnant anymore.”

Archer hands me my plate. “I don’t know. I’d guess no, but it’ll be interesting to see.”

After breakfast, we shower, get dressed, and go downtown to see the monument circle. It’s ungodly hot and humid today, ending our walk along the canal early. We’re eating lunch when Archer gets a call from the hospital. We wrap things up quickly and go back to his apartment.

Sam has the day off again today but isn’t home at the moment. Archer gives me a kiss goodbye and hurries to work, promising to call as soon as he can. I put our leftovers from the restaurant in the fridge, and go back into Archer’s room, changing out of my dress and back into my booty shorts and a t-shirt from Archer’s closet.

Ready for a nap, I turn on the TV and snuggle in bed. My phone rings and I grumble when I remember I left it on the dresser and I have to get out of bed to answer it.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, flopping back onto the mattress.

“Hey, honey. How are you feeling?”

“Tired and nauseous, but overall good.”

“Are you able to take a nap?”

“Yeah, I’m in bed, actually.”

“Oh, good.” Mom’s been checking on me almost daily since we told her about the baby, and things are good between us. “Try and get as much rest as you can now. You’ll need it.”

“Good point. How’s Rufus?”

“The new meds seem to be helping. Poor old guy. What about Archer? Have you seen him recently?”

“Yeah, a few minutes ago. I’m at his house.”

“How has he been treating you?”

I don’t take it as an insult. I know she’s concerned and wants to make sure Archer is committed. “Like a princess. He’s been great, really, and is excited for the baby.”

“Is he there? I wanted to talk to you guys about the baby shower.”

“It’s way too early to talk about that, Mom.”

“Not plan it, just talk about it. You’re my baby and you’re having a baby. I’m not going to apologize for being excited.”

“I like that you’re excited now, and no, Archer isn’t here. He just got called in for surgery. He thinks he’ll be back in a few hours at least.”

We chat for a few more minutes before we hang up, and I don’t even bother finding something to watch. I roll over and fall asleep in minutes.

*

A loud pounding sound wakes me up with a start. I sit up, confused for a split second, and then remember I’m at Archer’s. I look at my phone; I’ve only been asleep for forty-five minutes.

Someone knocks on the front door again, hard, heavy, and desperate. I unlock my phone and call Archer, not expecting him to answer. He doesn’t, and I swing my legs over the bed, peering out into the hall. The door is locked. Archer made sure of it before he left.

A few seconds go by, and I think whoever was outside must have left. I let out a breath and prepare to go back to sleep. And then the person outside knocks again.

“Archer!” the man outside the door yells. “Are you in there?”

They know Archer?

“I know you’re in there, man!”

And they’re angry. What the hell?

The pounding on the door starts again, so loud I’m scared they’re going to bust through the door. Swallowing my pounding heart, I unlock my phone, thinking I might need to call the cops about this crazy guy.

“Look, Arch,” the guy says, voice muffled. “I’m sorry for all that shit I did before. Can we talk about it?”

I leave the bedroom, going through the small living room toward the front door. Should I open it? This guy seems to know Archer…Nope. No way I’m opening the door.

“Come on, Archer. Stop being such a fucking asshole.”

He kicks the door.

“And I’m calling the cops,” I whisper, hands starting to shake. I get my phone unlocked.

“Who the hell are you?” Sam’s voice is so welcome right now. “And what are you doing here?” I hurry to the door and unlock it to let Sam in before that guy does something to him. But as soon as I throw back the deadbolt, the door is shoved open, and the doorknob hits me right in the stomach. I fall back, tripping over the entryway rug. I catch myself with my bad wrist, and pain shoots up my arm.

“Shit, Quinn,” Sam says, dropping his gym bag and going in after the guy who was pounding on the door.

“Archer,” he calls. “Are you here?”

Sam helps me to my feet and rounds on the guy, shoving him against the wall. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Where’s Archer?”

“I’m not telling you shit.”

The guy turns, eyes red and bugged out. He’s on something, and it scares me even more. My hands go to my stomach on their own accord, protecting this little life inside of me. I know it takes a lot to hurt a baby at this time, but getting whacked by the door hurt.

Bad.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” the guy says, twitching slightly. “Duke University,” he mumbles, reading the words on my shirt. “Archer went there.”

So this guy really does know Archer, or at least knows Archer went to med school at Duke for some reason. Then his eyes go to my hands clutching my stomach, and he tips his head.

“Who the fuck are you?” Sam demands, arms held out at his sides. “I’m calling the cops.”

“No need, I’m leaving. Sorry. I thought Archer lived here.”

“Why?” I rush out. “Why are you looking for him?”

The guy turns at me, giving me a blank stare for a few seconds. “Haven’t seen him in a while.” He sidesteps away from Sam, who’s pulling out his phone. “Tell Archer I was here.” He looks right at me, and there’s something familiar about his brown eyes.

“I don’t know your name.”

“Robert,” he says with a twitch. “But everyone calls me Bobby.”