Reagan's Revenge and Ending Emily's Engagement

  Reagan’s Revenge and

  Emily’s Engagement Ends

  By Tammy Falkner

  Night Shift Publishing

  As authors, we hope to entertain readers for an hour or two. When I get notes from readers who tell me they found hope, faith, pride or understanding in the pages of one of my books, I am truly humbled. So, this one is dedicated to all my readers. I hope you enjoy it.

  Copyright © 2014 by Tammy Falkner

  Reagan’s Revenge and Emily’s Engagement Ends

  Smashwords Edition

  Night Shift Publishing

  Cover design by Tammy Falkner

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Emily

  Logan slides into the booth beside me and his shoulder touches mine. I lean into him, just because I can. He lowers his head and kisses me, and his lips are soft and supple. I haven’t seen him since this morning, and I still get a little flip in my tummy when I look into his eyes, even after all the time we’ve lived together. He lingers over my mouth like he hasn’t seen me in weeks. He was just inside me this morning.

  My cheeks are warm when he lifts his head, and I have to take a minute to catch my breath. How was your day? he asks. Logan is deaf and he signs to me when it’s just the two of us. He only opens his mouth to talk to me when others are there or when his hands are full. Usually, they’re full of me. I’m not complaining. Not a bit.

  Fine, I sign back. Finished the shopping. It’s almost Thanksgiving and we’re spending it with all his brothers. Sam agreed to do most of the cooking, but he made a rule that we had to do the shopping. I’m glad it’s cool out, so I don’t have to worry about leaving it in the trunk for a few minutes.

  Where’s all the food? Logan asks.

  In my trunk. You can take it over to Paul’s, right? When you leave here? I brush a blond curl back from his forehead. He grins and does the same to me, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. How was your day?

  He motions like he’s weighing something his hands. So-so. Kind of like mine. He shrugs. He looks down at his watch. Pete and Reagan running late? he asks.

  I shrug my shoulders.

  Pete and Reagan are the only other couple in the family, so we try to set aside time to hang with them, particularly since Reagan is new to the group.

  The waitress stops and Logan holds up two fingers and twists it. Two and two. She knows us. She knows that means we want two pieces of apple pie and two root beers. “Sure thing,” she says. She squeezes Logan’s shoulder and walks away.

  Did you finish that ad campaign for Madison Avenue? I ask. Logan is doing an internship at my dad’s company and he worked all night to finish a last-minute proposal. Madison Avenue is an upscale clothing company worth millions, and Logan is starting out at the bottom. He’s crazy-talented when it comes to art, so I have no doubt he’s going to advance quickly. He works really hard at everything he does, and this is no exception.

  He nods and gives me a thumbs-up. They liked it.

  I smile. Of course they did. I chuck his shoulder with mine. You were worried for nothing.

  It was sort of a big deal.

  The waitress comes back with the pie and I hear a commotion at the door. Pete and Reagan, I sign, pointing behind us.

  Finally! Logan says, but he’s grinning. He fills his mouth with a huge bite of pie.

  Reagan slides into the booth across from us, and Pete scoots in with her. She smiles at me. I like her. I am very possessive over the Reed boys, but Reagan is okay. I have spent some time with her recently, and I find her to be funny and engaging. She had a rough time of it, and so did Pete, when he went to jail. They were both a little bit broken, and while they’ll never be what society might consider fixed, they’re wonderful together. Pete drops an arm around her shoulders, and she snuggles into him.

  “You’re late,” Logan says. He uses his voice because Reagan is just learning to sign. Logan told her she didn’t have to learn. He reads lips really well, but she is determined to be part of the family, and the Reed family has a deaf member.

  We all speak and sign at the same time when she’s around, and she’s picking it up quickly.

  “Sorry,” Pete says. He smirks down at Reagan. Her cheeks go rosy, and Logan snorts.

  “TMI, Pete,” Logan says.

  “What?” Pete protests. But he’s grinning like hell. “I didn’t say anything.”

  Logan points to Reagan. “The flush of her cheeks says it all.” Logan chuckles, and Reagan goes even redder.

  Pete steals a lump of Logan’s pie with his thumb and forefinger and lifts it to his lips. Logan holds out his fork. “Use a utensil, asswipe,” he says.

  “Fuck you, dickwad,” Pete says, but then he fills his mouth with a huge bite of Logan’s pie, his eyes rolling back a little as he savors it. “That’s good pie,” he says around a mouthful of food.

  “What?” Logan asks. Logan can’t read lips when someone talks with a full mouth, and Pete’s hands were busy with the fork.

  “I said good pie,” Pete says again after he swallows.

  “So glad you approve,” Logan says drolly.

  Reagan leans forward and says, “So, what time is dinner tomorrow night?” She raises her brow.

  I’m glad she changes the subject because Logan and Pete can bicker together for hours.

  “It’s an all day kind of thing,” Pete tells her. “We can come and go whenever we want as long as at least some of us are there to help Sam cook in the morning.”

  “Is Kelly coming this year?” he asks.

  Kelly is Paul’s ex-girlfriend and the mother of his daughter, Hayley, although we’re never sure they’re completely exes. I’m almost certain they still sleep together sometimes, but they see other people, too. It’s so strange. But Paul is the best father I ever knew. I lay my hand on my flat stomach. I hope I can be half as good a parent some day.

  I’m always worried about having kids. Will genetics make them dyslexic like me? I hope not. I wouldn’t wish my learning disability on anyone.

  Logan shakes his head. “Kelly has plans. But Hayley will be there.”

  “What kind of plans does Kelly have?” Pete asks, his brow arching. “Something more important than family dinner?”

  “Paul says she’s seeing someone. It’s getting serious.” Logan heaves a sigh.

  “Ouch,” Pete says. When one brother hurts, they all hurt.

  “Maybe they’ll figure it out,” Reagan says tentatively.

  Pete hugs her to him and drops a kiss on her lips when she turns her face up to him. “I love you,” he says softly.

  It makes me melt to see Pete like this. If anyone deserves a happily ever after, it’s him. And her.

  Reagan smiles.

  We hang out long enough for the waitress to bring two more pieces of pie, which the boys devour while Reagan and I sip our root beers.

  Honestly, the smell of pie is making me a little nauseated. I push the plate toward Logan. He narrows his gaze at me. “You’re not hungry?” he asks.

  I shake my head. Reagan smiles at me. Does she know? She couldn’t. I’m not even sure yet. But I have a pretty good idea.

  Logan finishes his pie and leans
over to kiss me. “I guess I better go unload the groceries. You coming?”

  I shake my head. I need to run to the drug store and get something. And I kind of want to talk to Reagan. “I’ll see you later. I still have some shopping to do.”

  “Okay,” he says, and he kisses me again, lingering over my lips until Pete starts coughing into his fist. “Shut up,” Logan grumbles.

  “Take Pete with you,” I say when Pete just sits there with his arm around Reagan.

  Logan narrows his eyes. “Why?”

  I motion from Reagan to me and back. “Girl time,” I sing.

  He looks confused, almost like he wants to sit back down.

  “Go,” I say, shooing him with my hands. “I want to talk about girl stuff.”

  “What kind of girl stuff?” Logan asks. He’s concerned, and I love that about him. But I really need for him to leave.

  “So, Reagan,” I say. “I tried out that new brand of tampons you told me about. And do you know what happened?”

  She laughs out loud at the same time Pete crams his fingers in his ears and sings, “Lalalalalalalalalala.”

  Logan shoves Pete’s shoulder. “Let’s go unload groceries.”

  Pete kisses Reagan and smacks Logan in the back of the head, and then he runs away, taunting so Logan will chase him. They do this crap all the time and, if they weren’t mine, I would probably find it annoying as hell. But they are mine, so it’s cute.

  When they’re gone, Reagan looks at me. “Have you told him yet?”

  I play with my straw. “Told him what?” I mutter. I avoid her eyes, because I think she sees too much.

  “When my mom was pregnant with Link, all her favorite foods made her want to throw up.” She makes an imaginary heave, and my stomach churns at just the sound of it. I have woken up nauseated every day this week.

  “Don’t make that sound,” I warn and burp into my fist.

  She holds up her hands like she’s surrendering. But then she sobers. “How do you think Logan will feel about it if you’re pregnant?”

  Logan would be ecstatic. It’s me who has the problem with it. “He’d be okay,” I say, my voice small.

  She reaches out and covers my hand with hers. “Why are you worried?” she asks.

  Tears fill my eyes and I blink them back. “What if our baby ends up like me?” I ask quietly. “I’m terrified of that happening.”

  I know Pete has told Reagan about my dyslexia, but she and I have never really discussed it. “Your disability doesn’t define you. It’s just a part of you, like your eye color or your hair color. It’s part of you, just like my brother’s autism is a part of him. You’re a person first. And I know that you’re worried, but if you think about it, I know a lot of people who would be devastated if anything happened to you. Your life has value and meaning, and it’s not despite your disability. It’s because you exist.”

  Goodness. I’ve never heard anyone say it like that before. What a powerful tirade she just made. “Thanks,” I say quietly.

  “Have you taken a test yet?” she asks, and she grins.

  I shake my head. “I was too afraid.”

  She squeezes my hand again. “Let’s go and get one.”

  I shake my head.

  “If you’d rather do it with Logan,” she starts.

  I nod. I’d rather do it with Logan. I need to tell him. Right away. But now I feel like I can. “Don’t tell Pete, okay? Not until after I tell Logan.”

  She nods. “Can you tell him soon? I don’t like keeping secrets from Pete. Not even yours.” She smiles.

  I can. I will. “Okay.” I smile, because I’m suddenly hopeful and the idea that there might be a life growing inside me that Logan and I created together takes root.

  Logan

  Something is up with Emily. She hasn’t told me what it is, but something is definitely wrong. I’ll figure it out. I know I will.

  I pop the trunk on Emily’s car and take the groceries up to Paul’s apartment. Four flights of stairs carrying a turkey and a ham and all the rest is kind of brutal. I’m glad Pete’s with me. But after that, I wish he wasn’t.

  We unload all the groceries, and since Sam is here, he organizes everything according to the way he’ll use it. He and Pete fight, shoving one another around until I get so sick of it that I can’t stand it. I turn to Paul. Can I talk to you for a minute, privately? I sign.

  He motions for me to follow him to his room. He closes the door, and I sit on the edge of his bed. He takes the chair across from me and glares at me. “Spill it,” he bites out.

  Paul signs and talks at the same time, so I do, too. “Something is wrong with Em,” I say.

  His brow furrows. “What kind of wrong?”

  I get up, suddenly feeling like I have ants in my pants. I walk over to his dresser and run my finger down a picture of our mother that’s in a gold frame. It’s rough and bumpy, but her face is smooth when I touch the glass. Paul taps my shoulder so I turn to face him.

  “You’re really worrying me. What’s wrong?”

  “When Kelly was pregnant,” I start. I swallow hard, because I need to in order to get past the lump in my throat. “When Kelly was pregnant,” I say again. “What was she like?”

  I watch his hands, afraid to look into his face because I might accidentally look into his eyes.

  “Is Emily pregnant?” he asks. His hands are flying furiously all of a sudden. “What the fuck, Logan?” he says. “What did I tell you about using condoms? I told you that her being on the pill wasn’t enough.”

  “I don’t know if she is or not,” I rush to say. “I just don’t know what to say or do, and you were the only one I wanted to talk to.” I slap my palm down on the dresser, because he looks like his hands are gearing up to continue to chastise me. “I need you to listen,” I say.

  He freezes and runs a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he says. His hands are softer now, though. “Okay,” he says again. “I’m listening.”

  “She hasn’t had her period,” I say.

  “How do you know?” he asks.

  I throw my hands up. “How do you think I know?” That was the dumbest question ever.

  His chest bellows with air like he’s heaving a sigh. “I know you’re having sex. But sometimes a few days go by…” He lets the words trail off.

  “A few days never go by,” I say. I feel heat creep up my cheeks.

  “You do it every day?” he asks, his brows arching.

  I won’t answer that. I just raise my brows. I am inside her pretty much every fucking day. I can’t do without her.

  “Okay,” he says. “So, no period.”

  “She’s waking up sick, some.”

  “Okay,” he says, making a motion for me to continue.

  “And her boobs are getting bigger.” I make a motion like I’m grabbing her boobs and squeezing them.

  “Logan,” he says. “Seriously?” But he’s grinning. He shakes his head and I can’t keep from grinning too.

  “They’re mine. I can play with them all I want.” I laugh at the look on his face.

  “Did she take a test yet?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure she knows yet.”

  “Why the fuck are you here talking to me instead of to her?” He looks at me. Paul has this way of really looking at people. Like he’s sees all of you. But he never talks about what he sees.

  “I’m not sure she wants kids,” I admit.

  He slaps his hands together. “Then you should have used a fucking condom.”

  I run my hands through my hair and jerk through the ends. “You don’t understand,” I say. I start for the door. He grabs my shoulder and turns me around.

  “Explain it,” he says. “I’m listening.”

  “Em is scared of being a mom,” I tell him. I hate talking about her dyslexia when she’s not in the room.

  “I’ve seen her with Hayley. No one I know would be a better mother.”

  My heart warms that he feels that way. I do,
too.

  “It sounds to me like you need to do two things,” he says.

  This is why I came to Paul. He always knows what to do. I motion for him to continue.

  He holds up one finger. “One: you need to get her a fucking test.”

  And? I ask.

  “Two: you need to reassure her.” He sits down. “You know she’s afraid. It’s your job to support her through it. Whatever she needs, you offer it.”

  “But I don’t know what she needs!” I cry.

  “She needs you, dumbass.” He smiles. “You’re all she’s ever needed. When I see the two of you together and how happy you are, sometimes it makes my fucking gut twist with jealousy, do you know that?”

  I didn’t. I had no idea.

  “From the moment you met her, you knew she was the one. And she felt the same way. You two were made for one another. So, go to her and be what she needs. Just be you. You’re all she’s ever needed, you fuckwad.”

  He’s right. We can do anything together. “I need to go see Emily.”

  He claps his hand on my shoulder. “Buy a test on the way home,” he says. “Then text me and tell me how it goes.”

  I nod and pull him in for a hug. He looks startled, but he falls against me and pulls me close. When he lets me go, I reach for the doorknob. He stops me.

  “You’re feeling hopeful, right?” he asks.

  I nod, and a grin tugs at my lips. “I’ll be the happiest man in the world if she’s pregnant.”

  “You’re one lucky son of a bitch.” He grins, though and signs, Good luck.

  Thanks, I sign back. Text you later.

  I let myself out, only stopping for a minute to talk to Sam and Pete. I stop and buy a pregnancy test kit at the pharmacy and go home, hoping Em will be there.

  I open the door, and she pops up from where she was sitting on the couch. I hold the test kit behind my back. “Hey,” she says.

  “You okay?” I ask.

  She fidgets, wringing her hands together. “I think we should end our engagement,” she says.

  My heart fucking stops.