Forbidden Baby Daddy: A Secret Baby Romance Read online

  Forbidden Baby Daddy

  A Secret Baby Romance

  Lara Swann

  Copyright © 2019 Lara Swann

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Image: Photo by Rock and Wasp at Shutterstock

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, dialogue and everything else are products of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to people or events, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Mailing List

  More Books by Lara Swann

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Chloe

  “You come back here, young lady!”

  My father’s voice echoes behind me as I run out of the front door, slamming it behind me in a gesture that makes me feel like I’m a moody teenager all over again. It’s infuriating, but that’s often how I feel when I try to argue with Dad.

  There will be trouble when I do eventually go back, I know that, but right now I can’t bring myself to care. I’m too frustrated and upset to spend another moment in that house.

  I keep running, even though there’s no one coming after me and I have nowhere in particular to go. It lets me pretend the stinging in my eyes is from the bitter February wind instead of the anger and hurt bubbling inside me - and my feet pounding against the pavement feels like an outlet for the tense knot in my stomach.

  When my burst of energy falters and I stagger to a stop, I finally look around to realize where I’ve run to.

  The Baltimore Museum of Art.

  The same place I’ve gravitated to since I was a kid.

  I let out a long breath, something inside me easing as I look up at the grand, classical style building lit up in front of me. It’s closed now, of course - it closed hours ago - but I don’t need to go inside to feel the reassurance of its steady presence.

  I visit frequently enough that I can describe every room with my eyes closed anyway - and as I slowly start walking again, I picture my favorite displays and all the moments of inspiration I’ve had here, reaching for the peace that it usually brings me.

  Unfortunately, right now all of that is tinged with sadness and resentment too.

  I kick at the ground as I walk, scuffing my shoes and shoving my hands in my coat pockets - if Dad’s going to treat me like some stupid kid, I might as well act like one.

  Yeah. Great rebellion, Chloe.

  When I make it around the building once and come back to stand at the entrance, I stop, looking up at it again and feeling the familiar longing inside me as I think of all the great artists there.

  Did they have it this hard? Did they have overbearing parents, too, people who dismissed their passion as childish dreams?

  Yeah. Pretty sure that’s a fairly minor problem, Chloe. They probably had life much worse than you.

  I sigh, shivering a little as I start to notice the chill. I glance in the direction of home, but I already know that’s not happening.

  If I never go back, it will be too soon.

  I don’t mean that. I know I don’t. But at least the stupid, petulant thoughts are holding back a deeper despair.

  I reach for my cell phone instead, and call Nathan. I would text him - I don’t much feel like talking - but this way if he doesn’t respond, I know it’s more than just absent-mindedness.

  I wait for the first few rings, wondering whether he’ll pick up. He promised he’d be around tonight if I needed him, but there’s never any real guarantee that he won’t get totally absorbed and forget the rest of the world entirely.

  I don’t blame him for that. If I could, I’d be exactly the same way.

  “Hey hon.” He finally answers, his voice slightly distracted.

  “Hey, can I come over?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks Nat, I’ll be there in thirty.”

  I hang up with a small feeling of relief. It delays the inevitable for a little bit longer, at least.

  I take one last look at the Baltimore Museum of Art - silently saluting the artists within - and then turn to make my way down toward Pennsylvania Station, to the tiny loft apartment Nathan rents in one of the cool art-deco parts of town.

  He was the best thing to come out of an otherwise disastrous networking event, back when I was nineteen and naive enough to think that those things were about showing people your work and finding an agent. I even brought along my portfolio - and I cringe when I imagine how out of place I must have looked among the cool crowd of young artists, eager to buy drinks for the one or two industry professionals that turned up, buying drinks and chatting about galleries and exhibitions and things I knew nothing about with the one or two industry professionals that turned up.

  No one seemed interested in looking at art - except Nathan, who clearly took pity and decided to humor me. He gave me some useful pointers on my drawings, we got caught up in a passionate debate about different mediums and styles - and by the time we looked up, everyone else had cleared out.

  Since then, he’s taught me a little more about the art world and how it’s all supposed to work - but I’ve never gone back to another event like that. I’m not interested in being seen or the politics of it all. What I need is to work on my craft and start attending more exhibitions - not that I’ve made much progress with that in the years since.

  I arrive at the entrance to the converted warehouse and press the buzzer for Nathan’s apartment, and the door clicks open a moment later - without Nathan checking it’s me, as usual. One of these days I swear he’s going to get robbed blind, but he’s oblivious to all that. With the number of lectures I get from Dad about the crime rate in Baltimore, there’s no way I can be.

  I make my way up several flights of stairs to knock on his chipped wooden door.

  “Come in!”

  I shake my head again at his complete lack of security, pushing the unlocked door open myself. It gets stuck partway and I have to push a little harder, before finally slipping through the small gap and into his apartment.

  “Hey hon—just give me a moment…” Nathan doesn’t look up from the bust he’s staring at, one hand stroking the air over the small sculpture as he frowns.

  “Sure.” I say, looking around the familiarly chaotic apartment and feeling some of my tension start to fade, the way it always seems to do here.

  Nathan’s apartment is all one room, with a set of counters forming the kitchen along one wall and a fold-up bed opposite that takes up almost all the available space. It’s tiny and cramped - and every time I come here, I fall more in love with it.

  There’s clay and papers strewn all over, drawings and models shoved in every availa
ble space and I’m pretty sure I can’t take another step without tripping over or breaking something, but it’s everything I’ve ever wanted in the world.

  A space of frenzied creativity - of art and passion - of the freedom to—

  “Done!” He announces with a flourish, springing up and turning toward me with his usual grin. “All yours, hon.”

  I tilt my head, trying to see past him to what he was working on, but he’s already moving toward me - side-stepping around the piles of books and papers on the floor as he does.

  He’s wearing a red checkered shirt, gray chino pants and there’s a smear of clay on his cheek that only adds to the sophisticated air he wears as easily as his fashionable clothes. His hair is artfully styled, short around the sides and long at the top, with the attractive dirty blond strands curling over his eyes and giving him just enough reason to periodically run a hand through it.

  And yes, that’s something he’s carefully considered. Nathan is more aware of these things than any woman I’ve ever known - and he’s handsome too, in a lean, gangly way.

  I’m sure girls are devastated to discover he’s gay.

  That’s just another thing I love about him, though. It’s nice to have something in my life that’s not bound by my parents’ strict opinions - and knowing Nathan has given me a glimpse of what else is out there.

  Of course, Mom and Dad would hate everything about it, but I haven’t even corrected their assumption that ‘Nat’ is short for ‘Natalie’. I’m not sure which part is worse - that I’m spending all this time alone with a guy…or with an unnatural gay sinner.

  Yeah, Dad is that old-fashioned.

  I’ve never quite understood it myself, though. If God truly condemned homosexuality, why would he have made people that way in the first place?

  Not that I’ve raised that particular view with Mom or Dad.

  Sometimes it’s easier not to say anything at all - so Nathan is one of the few parts of my life that my parents know nothing about, and it almost feels like I’d go insane without that. Especially at times like this…coming here has always been my little sanctuary.

  He reaches me and leans down to give me a tight hug.

  “Come on, let’s sit down and you can tell me all about what happened.” He steps back and glances around, pausing. “Mm, just give me…one moment…”

  He walks over to the only other chair in the room and picks up a pile of books from it, turning toward the bed - and stopping when he sees the models and papers scattered across it. Balancing the books in the crook of one arm, he starts trying to move the papers over to one side, before overbalancing and spilling the books over the bed and onto the floor.

  “Oh—fuck—”

  He scoops a drying clay statue out of the way, almost tripping over another sack of clay as he tries to set it down somewhere safer - and just about manages to save it before he ends up in a heap on the floor himself.

  “Umm…” He looks up at me a little askance. “On second thought, how about we go out for a drink?”

  “Sure.” I agree easily, trying not to laugh.

  I step over to him and offer a hand up, which he takes, glancing around with a quick shake of his head.

  “I’ll get around to clearing some space one of these days…”

  “Nah, you need it for…all of this.” I say, not entirely sure what half his supplies are. “Besides, a drink sounds great right now.”

  Between that and Nathan’s antics, I might actually forget about the argument.

  “Okay, perfect.” He grins, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair and opening the door to gesture me out ahead of him.

  At least he locks it when he leaves.

  “Where do you want to go?” He raises an eyebrow in my direction as we head down the stairs.

  “Somewhere different.” I say immediately, the thought suddenly coming to me. “Somewhere I haven’t been before. I want to do something…edgy…or a little bit dangerous. I never get to do anything like that and I just want to get away from all this.”

  I gesture around at the hallway, even though I’m not talking about Nathan’s place at all.

  “That bad, huh?” He shakes his head, sympathy flashing across his expression.

  “I just want to live a little.” I say, and I can hear the frustration in my own voice.

  “Okay.” He nods, obviously thinking about it as we leave his apartment block and walk around the corner to where his beaten-up old Ford Escort is parked. It’s got a few dents and there’s a definite layer of rust spreading across the bottom, but Nathan seems to love all its little quirks - and I can’t complain about all the rides he’s given me.

  I raise an eyebrow at him as he walks over to it and unlocks his door.

  “You wanted to go somewhere different, right?” He glances over his shoulder at me.

  “Yeah, but…” I walk up to the car, looking around as I do.

  I was thinking he’d find an underground hole-in-the-wall somewhere around here. This part of town is great for hidden bars and the kind of cool, edgy place I had in mind.

  “Go on, get in then.”

  He follows his own advice, getting in to reach over and push my door open from the inside in our familiar song-and-dance routine, letting me slip inside after him. I’m not sure whether central locking was invented sometime after this car, or it’s just one of many things that have never worked.

  “Where—”

  He holds up a finger at me, putting the key in the ignition with a practiced attention. I roll my eyes, but I don’t try to interrupt as he turns it in one firm motion. The engine rolls over…stutters…and then springs to life under us.

  “Gotcha! Thank you, baby.” He pats the dashboard affectionately and I have to hide a smile.

  What is it with guys and their cars?

  Even this old piece of rust.

  Though maybe if I had a car myself I’d feel differently. I know I’d certainly appreciate the freedom - even if the car’s personality itself means nothing to me.

  Apparently satisfied that the car isn’t going to pack up on us completely, he looks over at me with a grin and slides the stick shift into gear.

  “I know the perfect place - twenty minutes, a couple of drinks in front of us and you can tell me exactly what happened, hon.”

  The way he announces the perfect place sends a sudden sweep of excitement through me - and even the reminder about why we’re going isn’t enough to stop me from grinning back - my questions falling away as he pulls out of the road and onto North Avenue.

  This is exactly what I need.

  A distraction. Something different.

  Something new.

  Chapter Two

  Chloe

  I don’t say anything else, content to wait and see what he has planned - though as we head east and further into the outskirts of the city, some of that conviction starts to become a little more uneasy. The houses around us quickly become run-down and shabby, with boarded up windows looking back at us as we pause at a junction.

  I can see a few groups of loud, intimidating-looking guys gathering on the streets and get a slight tingle of apprehension as everything my parents have ever said to warn me about crime rates and the bad parts of town flick through my mind. I’m suddenly glad to be in Nathan’s car - around here, it doesn’t seem quite as out of place as I feel.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said dangerous. Maybe that’s not quite what I meant.

  “Nathan…”

  He glances over at me, then laughs at whatever he sees in my expression.

  “Having second thoughts already?” He shakes his head. “Relax, hon, I grew up around here.”

  I look around again. “You did?”

  “Well…” He chews at his lip, glancing around again. “Maybe not quite - but not too far away. I definitely knew some guys who did.”

  “Uhuh.” I say, thoroughly unimpressed.

  “We’re just passing through, anyway - and I’ve driven this pl
enty of times. Nothing to worry about, trust me.”

  “Okay…”

  He just throws me another grin and keeps driving.

  I guess it’s my own fault. This is what I asked for, right?

  Something unexpected and different.

  That’s what I want, too.

  So go with it, Chloe.

  We get further into the outskirts of town and the houses start falling away from the road, becoming fewer and further between as they’re interspersed with restaurants and roadside diners offering pit-stops for those on their way in or out of the city.

  A few minutes later, Nathan turns off down a side road and into a sparser, slightly more dilapidated area. I look around, still not entirely sure what we’re aiming for - and then he pulls into the parking lot of a low, wooden-slatted building, the car coming to a stop next to the cracked wooden railings that surround the place.

  “Here we are!” He turns to me with a flourish, still grinning.

  I raise an eyebrow, still wondering where exactly here is, but I get out of the car to see for myself.

  From the sign hanging off a post at the entrance to the parking lot - not to mention our conversation earlier - I’d guess we’re at some kind of bar, but it’s too dark to make out much more than that. There are lights spaced around the railings but half of them are busted - and I jump slightly when Nathan wraps his arm around my shoulder.

  “Okay?” He asks, walking us over toward the entrance.

  “Yeah, but…why are we all the way out here?”

  This doesn’t seem like the kind of place most people would make a special trip for.

  “You wanted something different.” He points out, giving me a knowing look.

  “Yeah.” I agree slowly. “Yeah, I did.”

  I’m still looking around, and I can feel my curiosity getting the better of me as we approach. This is nothing like the cramped bars we usually frequent - or even the edgy, arty places he’s occasionally tried to drag me into, the ones that stink of weed and old liquor.

  We pass a row of motorcycles parked up against the back edge of the building, in a dark area of the parking lot, and I would have stopped to take a look if Nathan’s arm around my shoulder wasn’t steadily leading me inside.