Page 18 of Deviant Desires

Catherine hugged me tighter. “I know, honey, but it’s for the best. He’ll be there for his kid. He’ll take care of both of you. Financially, even, if that’s all you want. You know he’s good for it.”

I didn’t want his financial compensation though. I wanted him. After all these years, after all the drama, after all the fighting and fucking, I still wanted to be with him. “Just give me a couple of weeks,” I told her. “I’ll tell him, Cat. I will.”

And I kept my promise.

The phone rang and his voice came over the line. My stomach churned like I was going to throw up again, but I didn’t. “I’m pregnant,” I told him.

And just like everything I’d done up until that point—going out to the country bar where I met Mateo, accepting his engagement ring, turning him in to the police, letting him fuck me in my office—it changed the course of my life forever.

15

MATEO

Exactly two hours later, I arrive at Bambi’s front door. My heart is pounding in my chest as I stand on her doorstep, hand poised to knock. I worked so hard to get over her, but I was just kidding myself. I was never going to give up on Bambi, not for good. There was never going to be a day that I woke up and didn’t love her like the flowers love the sun.

I bring my knuckles down on the wood three times, announcing my presence. It takes her no less than thirty seconds to arrive at the door with half a smile and a look of confusion on her face. “Uh, hello?” Bambi’s eyes are focused on the basket in my arms.

When I left the doctor’s office, all I could think about what arriving at Bambi’s front door and telling her that I loved her. But I’d said those words so many times over the years. She would believe me, but it wouldn’t change what I’d done to hurt her. So I decided to show her that going forward, I was going to be a changed man.

“Can I come in?” I ask, feeling my heart beat double time in nervous anticipation.

Bambi eyes the basket again before opening the door a little wider and allowing me inside. “What happened to your hand?”

I head for the living room, placing the basket on the coffee table. “I broke it,” I mumble as she enters behind me. “It was an accident.” I don’t want to tell her that I broke it in response to our last encounter together. She’s carrying my child and it would pain me to see her contemplate whether telling me about her pregnancy was a good idea or not.

She nods her head in agreement before standing next to the coffee table with me. “Are you going to tell me what’s in the basket?”

Her blonde locks are twisted up today in a clip. A few wisps of stray hair brush her cheeks as she looks curiously at the present I brought. “You said you’re pregnant.”

She turns from the basket to look at me. “Yeah, I am. Probably eight or nine weeks, depending on when we conceived.”

We had sex twice that week. I came inside of her, but I didn’t know that she wasn’t on birth control. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t glad. I’ve pictured Bambi as the mother of my children ever since I met her. I wanted my little girls to have her beautiful blonde hair and my sons to have her piercing brown eyes. “Well, I got you this because I thought it would help.”

I made a lot of stops on my way here, but it was worth it. The look on her face as I pull everything out and explain what it’s for is priceless.

“I got you some chocolate because I know it’s your favorite sweet treat.” I bought cookies, Ghirardelli squares, and a piece of chocolate cheesecake from the store.

“I got this because I heard pregnant women crave pickles.” I pull out a jar of the fanciest pickles I could find at Hy-vee. They’re from a local vendor that does a variety of flavors. “I know you like garlic pickles, so I thought you could try these out. But Raniero told me that pregnant women get heartburn, so I also got you some Tums.” Hidden in a corner of the basket is a container of brightly colored antacids. “I don’t want to give you something that’ll make you miserable,” I tell her with an awkward smile.

Bambi stands next to me with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes trained on the items I’m pulling out of the basket. The look on her face is unreadable and it puts me on edge. So I just keep pulling stuff out.

“I couldn’t find a big box or anything,” I tell her as I pull out the next item, “but I found the biggest pack of newborn diapers I could find at the store. Raniero told me that babies go through like eight diapers a day, at least.” The longer she stays quiet, the more unnerved I become.

“I also got some gender-neutral onesies.” In pastel shades of yellow and green. Each of them snaps together at the crotch and features a single word across the chest:cutie. “I don’t know if we’re having a boy or a girl,” I explain as I show her the onesies. “But I want to be prepared for either.”

The last thing in the basket is an envelope. This was the hardest to track down and took all the Valenti brothers calling various locations in town to find what I was looking for. I grab it and hand it over to Bambi, sheepishly staring at my feet as I explain the gift certificate inside. “There’s a massage place off Claflin that does pregnancy massages. Raniero said when you start to get bigger, your back and feet and probably everything else will hurt. So I wanted you to be comfortable.”

The gift certificate covers up to $1,000 worth of massages, but if I find out that she’s used all that, I’ll get her another one. I don’t want the mother of my child to be uncomfortable throughout her whole pregnancy. I did my part. I shot my load inside of her and knocked her up. Now she’s going to do the hard part of carrying and birthing the child. I’m not going to let her do that alone.

Bambi doesn’t take the envelope from my hand, so I just place it back in the basket. She’s still staring at me with an inscrutable gaze that makes me shift uncomfortably in my spot.

Once upon a time, I was all confidence and bravado, but that was before I hurt Bambi and broke my own heart. It was before I stood in front of the love of my life and hoped that she let me be a part of my child’s life. “I know this isn’t a lot,” I start to explain, “but you have to know that I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself to you. I can’t change overnight,” I hesitate. There are still a few open commands from Raniero that I have to take care of that I’m sure Bambi wouldn’t be too fond of. “I am who I am, B, but who I am wants to be the best father I possibly can be to our child. I want to be there for you throughout your pregnancy. I want to be there for the birth of my child. And I want to be right there in the trenches with you when he or she wakes up every hour or is sick or just needs to be held. This is what I’ve dreamt of every day since meeting you and I hope you’ll let me be in your life and the baby’s.”

If all I can hope for is a chance to be around, then so be it. If Bambi can’t find it in her heart to forgive me, then I just pray that she lets me have visitation.

“Do you remember our first date?” Bambi asks after a few moments of lingering silence.

How could I forget it? When I asked her what she liked to eat, she said Mexican. I wanted to take her to Kansas City to get the finest Italian food or the best-cooked steak in the state, but she wanted to go to this hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant. I knew the moment that I walked in that we were from two completely different worlds.

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