Infantry Read online

  Infantry: A Military and Secret Baby Romance Novella

  Haley Pierce

  Published by Haley Pierce, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  INFANTRY: A MILITARY AND SECRET BABY ROMANCE NOVELLA

  First edition. June 19, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Haley Pierce.

  Written by Haley Pierce.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

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  Preview of “Unlearned” by Haley Pierce

  Chapter One | Addison

  Chapter Two

  Chapter 1

  “Can I get you anything else?”

  The barista grinned, as she punched the order into the register. The varying colors were punctuated with a mess of the recently past and upcoming holidays.

  “No, just the tea, thanks,” I said, struggling to open the bag at my side while keeping its strap properly balanced over my shoulder. My new coat had a ruffled collar that, while undeniably trendy, already got in the way more times than I’d care to count.

  As I searched for my wallet, I was well aware of the line forming behind me. I pulled out pamphlets and crumpled receipts, shoving them into my coat pocket so that I could dig further down into my bag. I muttered an apology to the girl at the register. She nodded with a strained and over enthusiastic smile that went to show how her ability to stay genuine and pleasant with customers had a time limit. There was no mistaking the tension beginning to form in the air. After having worked retail during my early twenties, I understood how waiting customers could make your shift miserable. I understood when she saw me as a sign of what could end up being a pretty terrible shift, but of course my wallet was at the very bottom of my bag. I wouldn’t usually have been so stressed out or sensitive, but the reason I was here, at this coffee shop, wasn’t something that gave respite, or even the least bit of serenity.

  “Here,” I said, finally handing her a ten-dollar bill. She gave me my change and the receipt.

  “And your name?”

  “Claire.”

  “Alright, we’ll call you when it’s ready.”

  Luck was suddenly on my side, as I was able to snag a small table against the window looking out onto the square and the towering tree adorned with cascading rows of white and blue lights that pulsed with life against the dark backdrop of early evening. It was a beautiful night and some stars were actually visible beyond the orange city lights. A group of young people walked past the window, huddled together. A child tugged on his mother’s sleeve, perky and wide-eyed.

  I sighed, running a hand over my stomach and glancing a table over. That was where we had sat together, before he left. We had made jokes about how we were trapped right below the over-compensating air conditioner. Somehow, even with the cafe running its heater, I still felt a little cold. I couldn’t help it; it was my weird pregnancy symptom. My body temperature was always just the opposite of everyone else in the room. If everyone was warm, I’d be freezing, and if everyone was cold, I’d be sweating through my shirt.

  “Claire!”

  I jerked up at the sound of my name, my heart jumping at the possibility of him being early. But it was just my tea. I bit my lip, scolding myself for getting so worked up already. I had some time before he said he was going to show up. I purposely came here and hour earlier to calm myself and run through what I was going to say to him.

  Leaving my purse on my seat, I darted over to the counter to grab my drink. I topped it with a single shake of cinnamon and a drizzle of honey. I looked at the tin of flaked chocolate, stared at it a little and caught the corners of my lips curl up. He had added so much of it to his cappuccino that I told him he should have just ordered a mocha. He retorted by saying a mocha wasn’t a “man’s drink”, whatever that meant.

  Sitting back at my table, I pulled out my phone. It was still early enough. I checked my email, but there were no messages. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and twirled it around my finger a bit while sipping at my tea and then checked my social media feed. I scrolled down a bit, but couldn’t really remember anything of what was there. There was something about “10 Ways To Make A Man Crazy”, and I didn’t click it because it was definitely going to leave out my way; to surprise an old flame with a baby belly that was noticeable from space.

  My thumb automatically tapped to open a different article, but the text blurred as my mind began drifting to images of his dark, curly hair and how that single unruly lock would peek out from behind his ear. I wondered if the one inside my belly would have a similar lock.

  It had been nearly eight months since he had left for duty. Nearly eight months since— whatever it was we had. Was it a fling? Having been deployed to a remote location, his actual job in the military was really not something he would openly discuss. Correspondence between us was regular but not a routine. Usually two to three weeks would pass between messages. When I told him I wanted to meet whenever it was that he was going to get back, he agreed. But I couldn’t help but wonder if he was just looking for another round of fun before probably getting sent out again.

  I scratched at the side of my neck, sighing into my cup. I wondered how would he react to the news. Was any of what we had back then still lingering? Had it truly meant anything? But it could just be my rollercoaster-ing hormones suggesting that. Maybe I should have listened to Tamara when she said to just pretend it was someone else’s and move on. But no, I had made up my mind and asked Derek to meet me today, once his plane landed.

  My heart told me I was making the right decision, but my stomach tumbled like there was a little gymnast inside it. I shouldn’t have come so early. I could have easily squeezed in another episode of my latest binge-worthy show. At least that would have distracted me. But I had convinced myself to come early to get away from the distractions. I needed to concentrate on dealing with all of this. I ran through all the reasons why I never told him about this through an email. It wouldn’t be right to hear it like this. A distraction like this could mean the difference between life and death, where he probably was.

  That last one was probably truer than I would have liked. No matter how hard I tried to force myself to tell him, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining him losing his focus and making some kind of mistake that would end up killing him, or the rest of his unit. Sometimes the thoughts crept into my dreams, and as time went on, it became practically impossible to sleep. I finally resigned myself to telling him when he got back.

  Tell him!?

  Who was I kidding? He’s going to see what’s up before I can even get a word out.

  I leaned back in my seat and watched as an elderly couple entered the cafe holding hands and placed an order to go. The short woman chuckled, adjusting the glasses on her nose as her husband mispronounced her order twice. Over the speakers, a female voice sang about love and starry, tropical skies. I imagined them walking outside with their coffees, arms laced together, whispering sweet nothings to each other. They left with their drinks and arms linked together, as I anticipated, but their lips moving only towards their cups. There were no fairytale endings. Hoping for one in my situation was getting harder and harder.

  I nestled into my jacket, sipped my
tea, and breathed deeply, savoring one last daydream of everything working out, and imagining Derek and I leaving this place tonight in a similar fashion. Maybe it was just the tea or heartburn, but my chest warmed up at the thought of it happening. I was, at least, getting kind of good at not letting my imagination get too out of control. Now I could tell the difference between a heartburn and love, but the one thing I still couldn’t explain was how I felt when I was with him all that time ago.

  The week I had spent with him was one I couldn’t forget, even after all these months and attempts at denial. The way he first looked at me, our first real date... the candles and the touch of his fingers along my waist and lower... the sweet signature his lips left on mine. I took another sip of my tea but almost swore that I was tasting him instead. I wondered if he ever thought of me like I did, or if he could replay, in his mind, the first moment he saw me, kissed me, touched me. It’s hard to not think about him; I carry the evidence of that week together every waking moment now.

  Chapter 2

  Another night spent working. I stole a glance at my reflection in the full length mirror at the foyer, pausing just long enough to make it look like I was naturally admiring the large standing vase next to it—the vase I had spent a great deal of overtime hunting down. Somehow my amber hair had managed to maintain its tidy curls inspite of all the activity that came with trying to network at a client’s open house. It must have been the new hairspray I bought. It did advertise the use of coconut oil, or something that sounded equally as natural. I also took a moment to appreciate how great I actually looked in my navy, sleeveless cocktail dress. My flat stomach was the result of green smoothies for breakfast and sneaking in an extra half hour of ab workouts before a dinner salad that was really more of a snack. It was just too bad that I didn’t have time to pluck my eyebrows though.

  I looked around and made sure no one was watching before arching my eyebrow and examining them, wondering if I could find some tweezers and at least take care of the few hairs giving me grief.

  Another potential buyer came through the front door and I quickly shot myself into a casual appearance by putting my glass of red wine to my lips. It was a woman wearing a shimmery gold dress and extraordinarily high heels. The was one thing I liked about cocktail-themed open houses, other than the cocktails, was that when I wasn’t handing out business cards, I could at least appreciate what the guests wore, as if it was an unorthodox fashion show.

  When the woman finished hanging up her coat, I put on my friendliest smile, introduced myself, and pointed out the realtor currently upstairs talking to a middle-aged man.

  “Max can answer any questions you may have about the property,” I said. “But please have a look around first and find yourself a glass of wine and some refreshments if you’d like. The kitchen is around the corner.”

  “Thank you,” she said, her eyes shifting around as if she was looking for someone. “Do you have a copy of his business card?”

  I fought to hide a frown. “I’m not his assistant, actually. I’m the interior designer hired by the firm. I can hand you my card though.” I slipped it into her hand. “I can spruce up any space, with any taste.”

  “That’s your slogan?” She laughed.

  “But I can say it because you’re already looking at my work. Track me down tonight, or give me a call. Estimates are always free.”

  I looped around the main floor; nodding at some new faces I’d already given my introductory spiel to. I was getting better at it. I knew it was corny, but the proof that it worked was that I was making a living now. As long as the jobs kept coming in, I would say whatever it took. There were a few who seemed potentially interested so far tonight, but nothing solid yet. I could probably put that woman into the not interested category, but thankfully, the night was still young, to some degree.

  There were about ten people packed into the kitchen alone, mostly huddled around the island, admiring the tile backsplash and the pot lights hidden underneath the counter ledge. Trays of hors d’oeuvres passed through the space and the rest of the house, carried by servers in simple white uniforms. It wasn’t the fanciest open house I had been to, but definitely the fanciest that I had designed and decorated for.

  A tall man paused at my side to offer me a fresh glass of wine—somehow mine had dwindled down to nothing. I wasn’t one to decline free wine, even if I was technically working. It was my job to fit in and appear casual, and a second glass of wine certainly wouldn’t hurt. I wasn’t that much of a lightweight, though many of my friends thought I should be since I hardly drank.

  It was a shame most of those friends weren’t free to attend. Shay had that consignment shopping event, Megan had some reiki class—who takes class on a weekend? — and Jess mentioned something about having a date. I suppose I couldn’t blame Jess though. If I had a date lined up, I would have been tempted to skip out as well. That left Tamara.

  My eyes narrowed at the thought of Jess’ date. It’s not like I was overly jealous about the guy though. She had described him as someone attractive and fun enough to say yes to a date with, but not enough to make her think twice about what underwear she was going to wear. It was just that I hadn’t been on a date for over... six months? No, probably more than that. I was too caught up in trying not to be that small-town girl who fails at making something of herself in the big city.

  I checked the time on my phone. Tamara said she would swing by, and should be arriving soon. I was grateful for the support but knew that it was probably the free food, drinks and an excuse to dress up that truly enticed her to come.

  Leaning against a wall and swirling my wine absently, I felt someone watching me from across the room. I looked up, already feeling my cheeks flush, and spotted a man with short and dark curly hair. He was handsome and had a chiseled jawline. I expected to catch his gaze, but instead caught him checking me out. Very obviously checking me out, and looking everywhere but at my face. Just because he’s hot he thinks he can just look me over like a slab of steak?

  I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and his eyes finally pulled up to mine. Dammit, even his eyes were alluring.

  Slowly, his lips drew into a smile and I suddenly felt naked. But something inside of me almost didn’t mind. I was caught in the middle of being both annoyed at this guy for checking me out so obviously and attracted to the fact that he was confident enough not to be embarrassed about getting caught.

  The moment, however, was shattered as someone tapped the man on the shoulder and turned his attention away from me. I let out a deep breath and took a sip of wine, turning away and heading into another room. I stared at my wine suspiciously. Maybe I shouldn’t have accepted a second glass. Perhaps sober business was the best business. But maybe I also should have gone less sexy and more sweet and conservative with my attire...

  My phone went off and I put it to my ear, thankful for the distraction. Tamara was waiting at the front door.

  I met her at the door and showed her a condensed tour of the house, then paused for a snack in the kitchen.

  “You know what,” Tamara said, in her usual singsong voice. “You gotta get more gigs like this—this party is pretty legit.” She had a glass of white wine in one hand and was popping a stuffed pastry into her mouth with the other.

  “I’ll do what I can,” I said. “I feel like I’ve had to work for years just to get a contract like this.”

  Tamara nodded. “That’s because you did. You need a vacation; go wild.”

  I laughed. “Go wild? Can’t I just catch up on some reading instead? Maybe in a park, with a family of ducks in the pond—”

  “Claire, there you are!”

  I spun around to find Max waving me over to join him on the deck outside, grinning in his typical boyish way.

  “Come, I’ll introduce you to Max, the realtor,” I said to Tamara. “I think you guys will get along.”

  The lights of the city were like giant fireflies, stuck in place, hovering like they were waitin
g for something to sweep them away. Being on the elevated side of the river valley sure made for a breathtaking view. I leaned against the firm wood of the railing with Max and a man I hadn’t met yet was standing opposite us. We had a round of introductions. Max was thrilled to finally meet Tamara after some of the stories I had told him about her—mainly in regards to the bizarre dates she frequently got caught up in— and Tamara seemed pleased to have a fan. Max introduced his friend as Adam.

  “Max said you did the interior design here,” Adam said with a grin. His teeth flashed white in the light from an overhead deck lamp.

  “I did.”

  “You did a lovely job, I’m told.”

  “Told?” I said.

  “Yeah, well I’m not one for design, but my friend knows a thing or two. He said it’s good so I’m inclined to believe him.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate your feedback.” I handed him a card.

  “Can I have a second one?”

  I eyed him quizzically. “Sure?”

  He laughed, scratching behind his ear. “For my friend. He’s somewhere around here— oh! Speak of the devil!”

  Adam vanished, ducking behind a group of people and sidestepping a server carrying tall glasses of bubbling champagne. Tamara looked at me askance.

  “Where do you know him from?” I asked Max.

  “A friend of a friend. Met him at an event once.”

  “Huh.” I took a sip of my drink, wondering if Adam could actually be a potential client. I had a special knack for impressing the wealthy and untrained male eye.

  Suddenly the small crowd of people parted as Adam pushed his way through with a flurry of courteous apologies. Someone was following him, but I couldn’t make out who it was.

  “Max, Tamara, Claire” he regarded the three of us. “Meet Derek.”

  My stomach flipped and I found myself gripping the stem of my glass tighter.